Scion has had a sordid past. Originally, Scion was Toyota’s solution to a lack of 18-25 year old shoppers. Over the past 9 years however Scion has lost their way and lost their youth. Their median buyer just turned 42. The tC coupe, which started out as a car for college kids, now has a median buyer of around 30. Scion claims the FR-S is a halo car – to me, that means the FR-S will be bought by older drivers (who can actually afford it), attracting younger buyers to their showrooms. Despite being out of the target demographic, Scion flew me to Vegas to sample the FR-S’s sexy lines to find out.

The rear-drive layout, boxer engine and low center of gravity all play out in the car’s distinctive exterior. Toyota claims it was meant to pay homage to classic Toyotas of the past, but if Porsche and Lotus were charged with penning a Scion, this is what it would look like. Our time with the FR-S was limited to a 100 mile drive and about 6 hours of SCCA style autocross and road course track time in a pre-production FR-S. Jack will be flogging a production FR-S on track sometime this summer, assuming the stars align.

Inside, Scion opted for snazzy faux-suede instead of the coarse fabric of the base Subaru BRZ (the BRZ is available with  leather/faux-suede seating in the Limited model). Scion also swapped out the silver dash trim for something that looks like it might be imitating carbon fiber but is actually a motif based on the letter “T.”

Click here to view the embedded video.

Like all Scion models, the standard radio is a Pioneer unit with standard Bluetooth and iPod/USB interfaces. Instead of bringing Toyota’s Entune system to the Scion brand, Pioneer was engaged to bring their “App Radio” into what appears to be its first OEM use. Unlike traditional nav systems, the “BeSpoke” system (as Scion is calling it) is essentially just an iPhone app. The app runs solely on your phone and the head unit merely controls the app and displays the video generated by the phone. This means an iPhone is required for it work (Android phones are not supported.) It also means navigating eats up your data plan and you must be in a cellular service area for it to work. The system is expected to cost under $90 and since it’s an App on your phone, it’s never out of date. Much like iDrive, BeSpoke will also offer Facebook, Twitter and internet radio integration.

Under the lies the fruit of the Subaru/Toyota marriage: a 2.0L direct-injection boxer engine. Although it’s based on Subaru’s Impreza engine, it has been re-engineered to incorporate Toyota’s “D4S” direct-injection tech. The addition of GDI boosts power by 52HP to 200HP. Since the engine is naturally aspirated, the torque improvement is a more modest 6lb-ft bringing the total 151 at a lofty 6,600 RPM, while peak horsepower comes in at seven grand. Despite the online rumors, Scion Vice President Jack Hollis indicated there will be no turbo FR-S.

Since the FR-S is intended to be “baby’s first track car,” Scion’s event was held at the Spring Mountain Motor Resort in Pahrump, Nevada. Out on the track, the FR-S isn’t as slow as an early Miata, but it’s not especially quick either. However, the low center of gravity and light curb weight make the FR-S fairly adept in the corners, whether you’re on track or on an autocross course. The lack of torque is the one major blight, whether on or off track. This deficiency was made more obvious by my trip landing in the middle of a week with Hyundai’s 2013 Genesis 2.0T which delivers more power at far more accessible RPMs, despite its porkier stature.

Unlike most “sporty” RWD cars, the FR-S is tuned toward neutral/oversteer characteristics. When combined with the standard Michelin Primacy HP tires, the FR-S is far more tail happy on the track than the V6 Mustang or Genesis 2.0T. The lively handling is undoubtedly more fun, but inexperienced drivers beware:  getting sideways can be hazardous to your health, not to mention your insurance premiums. Without empirical numbers, I cannot say if the FR-S will out-handle the Genesis 2.0T on the track, however the Genesis feels more composed and less likely to kill you, thanks to a chassis tuned towards understeer and staggered 225/245 series tires (front/rear.) Contrary to the web-rumors, the FR-S is not shod with “Prius tires” as we would know them. The Primacy HP is a “grand touring summer tire” with “lower rolling resistance” tech added. The tire is used on certain Lexus GS, Mercedes E-Class, Audi A6 models and a JDM market only Prius “with performance pack.” Still, the tire isn’t as “grippy” as the FR-S deserves, so buyers should plan on swapping them for stickier rubber ASAP.

Scion’s “single-price with dealer installed options” philosophy continues. Starting at $24,930, the only options are: $1,100 for the automatic transmission, around $900 for the BeSpoke radio and a variety of wheels, spoilers and other appearance accessories. That’s about $1,295 less than the BRZ, although the gap narrows to almost nothing when you add the BRZ’s standard navigation system and HID headlamps. The nicer standard upholstery, more controlled pricing and a plethora of manufacturer supported (and warrantied) accessories make the FR-S a compelling choice vs the BRZ, but speed daemons will want to drive past the Scion dealer and test drive the Genesis 2.oT. If you want an FR-S, be prepared to wait as Scion expects supplies to be somewhat limited starting June 1st.

 Scion flew me out to Vegas, put me up in a smoky casino and provided the vehicle, insurance, gasoline, track time and admission to the state park for the photography.

 Specifications as tested

0-30: 2.6 Seconds

0-60: 6.7 Seconds

Fuel Economy: 22MPG average over mixed roads (track time not included)

The Scion (nee Toyota) IQ may be a very small car, but we’ve treated it like big news here. Alex Dykes took an an early look a few months ago. Michael Karesh turned his lens on the IQ in a Take Two. So far, we’ve been cautiously optimistic.

Why review it again? Simple. The IQ is arguably the proper spiritual successor to the original Mini: a packaging miracle which could define the way a large segment of humanity drives in the future. In a market chock-full of retro pastiche and style-over-substance, the IQ is that rarest of things: a truly new automobile, packed throughout its ten-foot length with original thinking.

In this test, we’ll swerve around a bit, race an old woman in a Bentley Turbo, consider who the buyers for this product will actually be, and introduce the IQ to the car which could wind up being its Nemesis. Snuggle up to the asymmetric dashboard and let’s go.

Four's a crowd.

The Scion FR-S, also known as “Toyota 86 whatever”, may be the car which is currently firing the imaginations of Japanese-car enthusiasts everywhere, but it’s the IQ which is actually the most exciting vehicle to come out of the island nation in… well, forever. Certainly it’s the most original and important vehicle we’ve seen since the original Accord. Everyone wants to compare the car to the Smart (and surely “IQ” was a direct nomenclautral riposte to the Daimler mobile phonebooth) but unless you really need to park sideways on the street, there isn’t much of a comparison to be made. The IQ whips it six ways to Sunday.

Let’s talk capability. It’s what sells the SUV, right? Make that perceived capability. Most Grand Cherokees will never leave the pavement, but their perceived capability to do so is reassuring. Well, here’s the two-seat compact car for the perceived-capability set. It’s a perfectly comfortable, normal way for a pair of adults to travel, but in a pinch you can get two more people in there.

Who will those extra two people be? Toyota would have you believe that they will be the skinny-jeans-wearing trendsetter party friends of the skinny-jeans-wearing trendsetter buyers, but let’s be honest: those two extra people will be grandchildren. Never has a car been so ideally suited for the gated communities of the South. Compared to the NEVs and golf carts which wander aimlessly from nineteenth hole to captive grocery store and restaurant, the IQ is thoroughly superior, because it offers full weatherproofing, actual resale value, long life, and the ability to change one’s mind and drive off Hilton Head Island all the way to Savannah should it prove necessary.

Grandmom and Granddad will appreciate the Scion’s low price, big friendly interior buttons, relative lack of confusing features, and 37mpg city rating. (The IQ is estimated to hit 38/37, by the way: its aerodynamic profile is likely to cripple its highway mileage.) If they do get on the open road, they will be surprised at how well the Scion handles the task. Although it is a tiny bit sensitive to crosswinds and pavement waves, never before in history has a ten-foot-long vehicle been this stable at speed. Your humble author ran the IQ up to about eighty-five miles per hour and did a few lane changes without incident. It’s not a Caterham Seven, but it’s no worse to drive than a Corolla.

What the old folks won’t appreciate: the rather dopey CVT. Expect to see the occasional IQ lightly jammed into the bumper of the car ahead of it in traffic, because the CVT’s absolutely unpredictable behavior while slowing down means there’s a different amount of brake pressure required every time. My co-driver nearly bopped a Jetta ahead of us while coming off the freeway, and I found myself regularly missing my planned stopping points by a foot or more. It isn’t the brakes. It’s the transmission.

The normal payoff for a CVT is efficient operation and power transfer, but this ninety-four horsepower, 2150-pound vehicle doesn’t accelerate with much vigor. As we cruised around Palm Beach, I saw a handsome older woman in a twenty-year-old Bentley Turbo R and decided to go have a closer look. Unfortunately, the IQ couldn’t catch her while driving up the drawbridge separating Palm Beach from West Palm Beach — and she didn’t even know we were behind her. We just weren’t making any forward progress. This can be a thrashy, unpleasant powertrain at times.

It was while wandering through the side streets of West Palm Beach that we came across the IQ’s biggest problem in the North American market. Observe these pictures:

That old Yaris is maybe worth six or seven grand, and it offers nearly everything the IQ does except that last twenty inches of packaging efficiency. The young people whom Scion is ostensibly targeting are unlikely to see why they should pay more just to park in a shorter space. One exception: San Francisico apparently has a bunch of 122-inch “parking spaces” on the main streets which are currently the exclusive province of motorcyclists, and those will be IQ-compatible. Another exception: many homes have golf-cart garages which can take an IQ. Oops, we’re talking about old people again.

Other notes: The air conditioning does not impress, not even in weather that was relatively mild by Floridian standards. The intelligent packaging is likely to translate to mildly challenging servicing: the hood/bonnet is more of a mail slot than a functional opening. While it is possible to put two full-sized adults on the passenger side of the IQ, there is a bit of psychological discomfort involved for the fellow in front due to windshield proximity.

The Scion IQ will be sold in a single specification, at a single price: $15,995. All options will be added by your repugnant local Toyota dealer or, in certain regions, by the distributor. As your consumer advocate, I feel compelled to remind you that there is no law on state or national books which prevents your Scion dealer from negotiating on price. Quite the opposite, in fact. The “Pure Price” philosophy is simple gingerbread. Not that there will be a lot of margin in the IQ for the dealer. The money will be in the available wheels, stereo options, lowering springs (insert “lower your IQ” joke here) and interior LED lighting add-ins.

Most small-Toyota intenders will skip the IQ and go directly to the XD, or, failing that, the Yaris. If they do so, they are missing a glimpse into the future. The packaging innovations found in the IQ may not seem terribly important today, but fast-foward to the post-Peak-Oil, 600cc turbodiesel future, and they will be absolutely critical. This will be the only kind of four-seater many people will be able to afford in the future. So if you want a look at the proverbial “tomorrow, today,” it will be as close as your IQ dealer — or as far away as Grandma’s house.

Scion is quite sure of one thing: the new iQ is a much better car than the smart fortwo. What they’re much less sure of: how many of the targeted fine young North American urbanites will buy one rather than periodically use Zipcar. I’m neither young nor urban, but I’m going to do my best to pretend. Why might I buy this car—or not?

Exterior styling – not

Toyota fits the iQ with 16-inch wheels that can be upgraded to multi-spoke alloys in a bid for the intended buyer. But the exterior isn’t nearly as stylish as the smart’s, with a frumpy nose, awkward B-pillar, and a single, square-cut door filling nearly the entire space between the wheel openings. Add the relatively large wheels, and the whole looks like a Photoshop chop—except it’s real, with a 79-inch wheelbase (vs. 74 for the smart) and 120-inch overall length (vs. 106). Scion has been struggling to get its mojo back ever since launching the bloated second-gen xB. With the iQ the struggle continues.

Interior styling – maybe

The interior is more successfully stylish than the exterior, but still has none of the whimsical character you’ll find inside a 500 or a MINI. All of the surfaces are—surprise—hard plastic but they generally look and feel solid. The red-stitched leather-wrapped steering wheel and the glossy black trim on the doors and center stack are high points. The controls are simple and easy to use, with three large vertically-aligned knobs for the climate controls. Less functional: the driving position is well aft of the windshield, so traffic lights aren’t visible if you stop at the white line. The button to temporarily deactivate the traction control (but not the stability control) is mounted low on the far side of the shifter. A power lock button sits next to it, but there’s another more conveniently located on the driver’s door. My suspicion: the design initially included only the button on the console, in line with European practice, but the Scion marketing folks insisted on having buttons on the doors, where Americans expect them. They got half of their request.

Interior packaging – where the car earns its nameplate

I’m a space efficiency geek. The intelligent packaging and seating of the Ford Freestyle and Taurus X is perhaps the main reason (beyond the need for seven seats) that I bought one of the latter.

Toyota is most proud of its packaging innovations for the iQ, and this part of their pitch for the car is not hype. Though only a foot longer than a smart, the iQ has a rear seat that can fit one adult without resorting to cruel and unusual punishment, and two with it. They were able to pull this off by:

1. Placing the engine in the nose of the car (it’s in back with the smart) and locating the differential ahead of the transmission, which sits next to the engine. This enables an unusually short front overhang, and would improve the appearance of even large front-wheel-drive cars. (Back in the 1990s, GM’s designers wanted to flip transverse powertrains around for this very reason, but the engineers refused to enable any such silliness.) A special high-mounted steering rack also plays a role.
2. Compacting the A/C componentry and locating the evaporator behind the center stack rather than ahead of the front passenger, enabling the right front seat to be shifted forward a few inches. Which is why the right rear passenger enjoys more legroom than the left rear passenger. Space is provided between the front seats for the left rear passenger’s legs, as the driver’s seat can slide all the way to the rear seat cushion. This space exists because, with a width of 66 inches, the iQ is over a half-foot beamier than the smart. A by-product: those in the front seat sit about as far apart as they would in a C-segment car like the Corolla, not shoulder-to-shoulder like they do in the smart.
3. Developing ultra-thin seatbacks. They don’t feel substantial, but aren’t uncomfortable.
4. Developing an ultra-thin fuel tank—it’s only 4.5 inches tall—and locating it beneath the driver’s seat.
5. Adding an eleventh airbag that deploys over the rear window, essentially a rear curtain airbag. There are only a couple of inches between the rear seatbacks and the liftgate, so otherwise the rear seat would be dreadfully unsafe instead of…

Of course, Toyota’s engineers can’t do magic. So without folding at least half of the rear seat there is absolutely no cargo room.

Electronics – good, but better gadgetry on the way

Bluetooth (hands-free phone and audio streaming), USB, and HD radio are all standard, while nav is available as a dealer-installed accessory. But something like Toyota’s new Entune system, with Internet-based apps, is a year or two away.

Performance – quicker than a smart!

The iQ weighs only 2,127 pounds, but this is still a bit much for the 94-horsepower 1.3-liter four-cylinder hitched to a mandatory CVT. (The smart weighs 300 pounds less, but has only 70 horsepower.) In normal mode the CVT produces the rubber-banding effect typical of CVTs paired with small engines. Shifting into S largely eliminates this while also kicking the revs up a grand or two (so it’s not a full-time solution for anyone interested in fuel economy). And if you want to keep the small four at high boil there’s B (intended for engine braking on downhill grades) that further bumps the engine speed. Not the ideal transmission, especially not for driving enthusiasts, but far better than the clunky automated single-clutch manual in the smart. The engine sounds better than that in the Nissan Versa, which similarly employs a CVT, but remains well short of spine-tingling. There’s no joy in winding this one out. Sixty arrives in an acceptable ten to eleven seconds, but acceleration trails off considerably past that mark.

Fuel economy – very good in the city, meh on the highway

Scion touts the iQ’s fuel economy as the best of any non-hybrid. But the EPA rating of 36 city is much more impressive than the 37 highway. Then again, the iQ is marketed as a “city car,” not a “highway car.”

Handling – not remotely a new CRX

The best that can be said of the iQ’s handling is that its ultra-tight 12-foot turning radius, roughly two-thirds that of the average car, is truly a joy to experience. The second best: unlike the smart, the tiny Scion drives much like a regular car. Perhaps too much like a regular car, if by “regular car” we mean a Camry. Aided by the car’s unusually high width-to-wheelbase ratio, roll and understeer in hard turns are both moderate. But the steering is neither quick nor communicative, handling isn’t particularly agile, and the non-defeatable stability control cuts in well short of the car’s limits. The legendary Honda CRX was a thrill to drive sideways. That won’t be happening here. The iQ drives like an appliance.

Ride – survivable

Given the iQ’s ultra-short wheelbase, a choppy ride is a given. Drive over 60 down a concrete freeway (again, not the car’s primary mission), and expansion joints induce a rhythmic bouncing. But otherwise ride quality isn’t bad, and doesn’t feel like that of a very small, very light car. Though larger and heavier, a FIAT 500 rides worse.

Pricing – bespoke bits aren’t cheap

The iQ lists for $15,995. Scion continues to practice “Pure Pricing.” This doesn’t mean that dealers cannot discount, only that they must offer the same price to everyone. A similarly-equipped smart fortwo lists for $16,850. Adjust for the iQ’s additional features using TrueDelta’s car price comparison tool, and its advantage widens to a considerable $2,300.

But Scion rightly isn’t taking the smart seriously as a competitor, at least not in North America. Here stiffer competition will come from the Fiat 500 and B-segment cars. The much more entertaining Mazda2 costs a grand less, though a $1,600 feature adjustment gives the iQ a $600 advantage. Compared to a FIAT 500 Pop, the iQ is $1,000 less before the feature adjustment, $400 less afterwards. So the prices for these three are quite close before discounts and incentives—which will tend to favor the Mazda and (as the cars pile up on dealer lots) the FIAT.

Bottom line: The iQ costs about as much as B-segment cars despite being much smaller and less fun to drive.

Sales forecast – not promising

So, the Scion iQ isn’t going to sell based on its price or driving excitement. Its packaging innovations are impressive, but you don’t have to own the car to admire them. Though the iQ is a much better car than the smart fortwo, the latest B-segment cars are better still in nearly every way. In terms of fuel economy, the iQ does very well in city driving, but the larger cars do better at higher speeds (where the Scion is out of its element). In the end, the iQ’s key strengths are its short length and ultra-tight turning radius, both of which make it easy to park in the city. But how many people have ease of urban parking as their top priority AND will be buying a car rather than occasionally renting one?

Scion provided the vehicle, insurance, and fuel for this review at a media event.

Michael Karesh operates TrueDelta, an online source of automotive pricing and reliability data.

It will come as no surprise to regular TTAC readers when I say that Scion has had some sales issues lately. But instead of euthanizing the brand as some on TTAC have suggested, Toyota has decided to take a different route. Thankfully, rather than creating more me-too models based off of US-market Toyotas, the plan includes some JDM/Euro models and the much anticipated “Toyobaru “sports car. The first object of foreign desire landing stateside to start off Scion’s resurrection is the Toyota iQ micro-car. The iQ should be in showrooms across the country soon, but does Scion have the IQ to make a smarter Smart?

The problem with the Smart ForTwo isn’t really the car itself, it’s not Penske (the former Smart distributer), and it’s not even parent company Mercedes’s on-and-off waffling relationship with microcars in America. The problem with the Smart car is that all the other cars on the market exist. I learnt this the hard way back in 2007 when I put a $99 deposit down on a Smart ForTwo Cabriolet. The months waiting for my precious pregnant roller-skate to arrive only fueled the flames of desire for the car only Europeans were allowed to buy. Unfortunately when the car arrived the novelty had worn off due to the anemic engine, steep pricing, lack of features and a dumb-witted automated manual transmission. When Toyota said they were bringing their micro car stateside I was suitably concerned yet strangely intrigued, as a result I could not resist an invite to Seattle to see the latest diminutive people-mover.

Numbers are important with small cars, so with measuring tape in hand let’s explore. The iQ is 14-inches longer and just under 5-inches wider than the US market ForTwo (10-feet long and 66-inches wide) making it not only the smallest four-seater in the US but in the world. For anyone counting, the iQ is considerably smaller than the former (or planned) Smart ForFour or even the Mini Cooper. Lilliputian-car lovers rejoice: the iQ is still small. Strangely however, the increased dimensions pay much larger dividends than you would expect due to packaging and the funky layout.

The Smart’s rear-engine layout hurts the tiny car’s space efficiency compared to the front-engine iQ. How can this be? Well, the radiator and other support systems, steering rack, etc. are all still under the miniature hood while cargo space is restricted by the ending in the rear. The iQ engineers on the other hand found ways to repackage everything to use less space. The steering rack sits nearly above the engine, the differential was relocated and compacted, pushing the front wheels in front of, rather than behind the engine and barely behind the bumper cover. Inside, the glove box was deleted and the HVAC unit went on a diet combining massively reduced pluming, a tiny air handler and miniaturized bits-and-bobs jammed entirely behind center console. This means the front passenger compartment could be shifted forward into the void where these systems would normally live. By shifting the front passenger noticeably ahead of the driver, you can actually fit a 6-foot-tall passenger in front, a 6-foot-tall passenger in the rear, a 6-foot-tall driver behind the wheel and a small child or a small amount of shopping behind the driver. That’s what Toyota means by 3+1.

While it is technically a four-seater, my experience stuffing journalists into the car and driving around Seattle can be summed up this way: it can carry two in comfort, three acceptably, four in a pinch. I was actually able to drive the iQ while a 6-foot-tall person sat behind me. It wasn’t awful, but I wouldn’t want to take a road trip that way. Cabin width is not an issue as the iQ is actually wider than Yaris or Corolla and this makes the iQ far less claustrophobic than a Smart. You would think the addition of extra seats would result in lost legroom upfront vs the Smart but you would be wrong. In reality the iQ possesses 3/10ths of an inch less legroom than the ForTwo in front, while adding 28.6 inches of legroom in the rear. The math whizzes in the crowd will notice that 28.6 inches of rear legroom come with an increased overall length of only 14-inches vs the Smart how’s that for IQ?

Those 2.5 passengers will at least be happy spending time inside the iQ as the diminutive people mover possesses better quality bits than most Toyota products in recent memory. (They are certainly better than Versa, which may be a strange comparison, but I was just here in Seattle for that launch, so there you go.) Most interior surfaces that you will touch are covered in a thin soft-effect plastic that is miles ahead of more expensive Toyota products like the Prius or Sienna. The integrated front-seat headrests are functional but strike me as being a tad out of place as the rears are adjustable. The loss of a glovebox (sacrificed in the name of space efficiency) may be a problem for some, but you can opt for a flimsy tub on questionable rails under the passenger seat as a substitute.

All iQ models get a standard flat-bottomed steering wheel wrapped in soft leather which I have to say is the of the best steering wheels I have had my hands on lately. With every high must come a low; I found the new “joystick” controls for the audio system a pain to use. Speaking of audio systems, Scion continues to take a novel approach on this front. All Scion models are shipped to our shores radio-free and the radio or nav system of your choice can be inserted at the dock or dealer. Fail to tick an optional head unit box and you’ll get the standard Pioneer system which includes HD radio, CD player, Bluetooth (for phone and streaming audio), iPod/USB control, AUX input and four Pioneer speakers. Stepping up to the 200-watt premium audio box gets you a 5.8-inch LCD with iTunes tagging, Pandora connectivity (via a smartphone) and RCA preamp outputs. Should money be no object, you can step way-up to the $1999 Scion Navigation System 200 which is basically the Scion version of the Toyota/Lexus navigation system in everything from the Camry to the LS600. While I find the Toyota/Lexus/Scion nav system easy to use, snappy and well featured, $2000 represents a whopping 13% increase in the price of the car just by selecting this one option. Ouch. Another oddity is the total lack of cruise control, optional or otherwise. As a city car it makes sense I suppose, but it is a nicety I’d still like to have.

Under the tiny hood beats a 1.3L four-cylinder (1NR-FE) engine, brand new for the iQ and for Toyota churning out 94 HP at a lofty 6,000 RPM and 89 lb-ft of twist at 4,400 RPM. I had hoped to see perhaps a diminutive 3-cylinder turbo or perhaps a direct injection engine, but Toyota has decided to go for the tried-and true multi-point electronic injection pioneered last century. Despite high compression of 11.5:1 only regular unleaded is required. Power is put to the ground via a new CVT making the iQ the only Toyota non-hybrid CVT product on these shores. I can’t help another Smart comparison here: the ForTwo’s automated manual shifts like a drunk 12 year old driving daddy’s John Deere, the iQ’s CVT on the other hand likes to rev the nuts off the little 1.3L engine, but at least it is smooth in the process. Pitted against the 2127lb curb weight of the US spec iQ, acceleration is neither swift nor slow but in the same realm as a Prius at an observed 10.52 seconds to 60 (0-60 quoted 11.8) keen observers will note this is considerably faster than the Smart.

The EPA has crowned the iQ with the highest combined economy for any non-hybrid in the US at 36/37/37 (City/Highway/Combined EPA 2008). During my short 105-mile stint with the car on three separate driving routes around town, I averaged 32.1, 37.2 and 49.1MPG on two city routes and one 25-mile highway run.

The safety conscious in the crowd will no doubt be concerned about driving around in a car the size of a high-top trainer. To allay these fears, Toyota has jammed 11 airbags into the iQ including front airbags, knee airbags, side curtain airbags, front thorax bags, a rear window airbag to shield passengers from a tall vehicle impacting your hind end, and finally in-seat airbags to prevent the driver and front passenger “submarining” under lap belts in a rear collision. I don’t know about you, but I want to see video footage of all those bags going off simultaneously.

Starting in December on the west coast and working its way across the country, expect the iQ to slip into dealers with a base MSRP of $15,256 plus destination of $730. Included in the price is scheduled maintenance for 2 years/25,000 miles and 3 years of roadside assistance (mostly because there is no spare). Toyota expects sales to be substantially similar to the xB and xD (20,364 and 10,110 respectively in 2010). Seeing as Smart managed to con 14,595 people in 2009 and 5,927 in 2010 into buying a fairly awkward little car, Scion’s low end sales forecast seems totally achievable. When it does land in a dealer near you the usual bevy of Scion accessories will be available including lowering springs, wheels, sway bars, fog lights, etc. One of our Facebook followers asked us if installing lowering springs would result in lowering the driver’s iQ. You’ll have to check back for the full review of the production model for the answer as well as comparisons to the Mini and 500.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Toyota flew me up to Seattle, put me up in a swanky hotel and stuffed me full of wine and food for this review.

0-30: 3.906 Seconds

0-60: 10.52 Seconds

1/4 Mile: 18.05 Seconds @ 73.6MPH

Toyota has had a problem lately: aging clientele. While some marketing firms will try to reinvigorate an aging brand with flashy new commercials and risqué advertising campaigns, Toyota decided to create a whole new brand in 2002 targeting Generation X and Y: Scion. Since the generations at the end of the alphabet are short on cash but long on youth, value pricing is the biggest draw for the Scion brand. Therefore it should be no surprise that the average age of Scion shoppers isn’t as low as Toyota could have hoped: old people like a bargain too.

Bargain pricing as a cornerstone means that most Scion models (all except the tC actually) are rebranded Toyota models from foreign markets. Realizing that Scion needed something besides a trendy bread box and a bargain basement people carrier, Toyota released the first model unique to Scion: the tC. Yes, yes tC doesn’t really fit in with the rest of the Scion nomenclature like xA, xB and xD, but Volvo had dibs on the XC trade mark and so tC was born. Based loosely on the European Toyota Avensis sedan, the tC combines an economical European front-wheel drive chassis with a sporty coupe profile.

Speaking of profiles, when Scion announced that a new tC would be arriving as a 2011 model year car, I was concerned it would suffer from the same bloat that has afflicted the xB in its latest refresh. Fortunately the styling of the tC will not offend the Scion faithful. Easily identifiable as a tC, the front has received a tasteful refresh with a larger air dam and a bit more drama. The blacked out A and B pillars combine with the chunky angular C pillar to ape a bit of Camaro styling (just a bit however). Out back a short faux-trunk greets the hatchback-averse in the crowd along with some curvaceous tail lamps and a single exhaust. The Scion tC proves it’s actually possible to build an econobox that doesn’t look like a penalty box. But is the beauty only skin deep?

Step inside the tC you realize that “compromise” is inevitable in an car that starts at $18,995 base and tops out around $22,500. The interior looks nice but comes only in black, if monochromatic interiors are not your thing, you should cross the tC off your list now. The dash plastics have an appealing visual texture; however like the rest of the competition the plastics are best looked at, not touched. Still, the interior delivers exactly what I expect from 19-large. What’s unexpected however is the thick-rimmed three-spoke steering wheel. The flat-bottomed-tiller on our loaner car was covered in soft perforated leather, equipped with comfortable grips and perfect seams. As if this wasn’t enough, the airbag cover and plastic spokes are executed with feel and precision beyond what I’ve experienced in some recent Lexus debuts. Seriously, this Scion steering wheel has to be one of the best wheels I have ever gripped in my life (sorry BMW). The real wheel-surprise is that the wheel is actually standard on the tC, not an option.

Sadly however not all is rosy inside the tC’s cabin. The entry level market usually means leaving out most “luxury” features. I’m usually fine with a bargain basement ride not having power seats or automatic climate control, but base Kia and Hyundai models come standard with Bluetooth phone integration these day. While Bluetooth can be added by optioning up a $300 BLU Logic accessory or stepping up to the $1999 Scion Navigation system, this is a safety feature that should standard by now as many states require some sort of hands-free system. For a brand that focuses on the tech-savvy genberation, this omission could be a deal-killer for some.

Anyone that knows someone in their 20s knows that to young people a good audio system is almost as important as the car itself. To that end Scion provides shoppers with no-less than four head-unit options. From the base Pioneer system to the $1999 Scion navigation system with HD radio and Bluetooth, it’s most obvious that the car was designed with the aftermarket in mind. Radios can easily be replaced with aftermarket units if buyers prefer and a quick Google search yields plenty of options for integrating systems with the standard steering-wheel controls. While many buyers may choose this route, the rest should know that although iPod integration is standard on the base Pioneer system, actually controlling your iPod via the head unit is a tedious and cumbersome task. Buyers who want a factory warranted system but are interested in some options will appreciate the Scion SNS200 nav system which is probably the most flexible factory head unit ever conceived. The SNS200 offers a long list of integrator pleasing features such as 6-channel pre-amp output, aftermarket rear seat LCD support, DVD video player, aux input jacks, etc.

Under the hood, the tC now boasts the same 2.5L four-cylinder engine as the 2011 Toyota Camry. Rated at 180HP and 173 lb-ft of torque, the engine is finally a willing companion. Despite the modest gain in power (19 HP and 9 lb-ft) vs the old engine, the “feel” is greatly improved as is low end torque. The old 2.4L engine always seemed out of breath, a feeling I never encountered during my week with the tC. While I am glad that Toyota has provided a 6-speed manual option (as tested), the heavy clutch and manual-matching-economy of the automatic make Toyota’s 6-seed slushbox my transmission of choice. Speaking of economy, we averaged a combined 27MPG in our week long test of the tC, besting the EPA estimate of 31MPG highway/23 city/26 combined by one MPG. Sure the automatic takes a toll on acceleration (8.4 vs 7.6 seconds to 60), but for every day driving the auto’s gear ratios are a perfect match to the Scion’s dynamics and personality.

Out on the road the tC delivers a solid, stable ride. The chassis and stability control are tuned to allow the driver a bit of fun out on windy mountain roads, but prevent anything approaching risky behavior. The new electric power steering is pleasantly unobtrusive, albeit a tad over-boosted as most vehicles with this system tend to be. Toss the tC into sharp corners and the lower profile standard tires and 1”wider track (than the precious generation) are a welcome ally. Unfortunately some may find the ride delivered by the 18s a bit too harsh for every-day driving in America’s pot-hole riddled urban jungle.

Still, the larger wheels look cool, and that’s what the tC is really all about: impressions. A quick prowl online will reveal a number of reviews critical of the handling abilities and steering feel of the tC. While I tend to agree with the fairly subjective analysis, I have to say that anyone who desires the tC to be a fire-breathing sports coupe is missing the point. If you want to do donuts in the school parking lot; get a rear-wheel-drive base model Hyundai Genesis. The tC provides a much more adult pleasing reality than the youth-hyped marketing material would suggest.

At the end of the day, the tC ends up being something of a fashion statement, and I’m actually OK with that. There’s a reason Generation X and Y have massive spending power but limited automotive budgets: they buy fashion. No other generation spends as much on a pair of jeans and accessories as the metro Gen X/Y. So when it comes to selecting a ride, the Scion may just deliver that right balance of sporty looks and comfortable driving reality. The only part missing? 20-somethings buyers with 20-grand in their pockets.

Scion provided the vehicle, insurance and one tank of gas for this review

Anarchy in the TTAC! It turns out that Michael Karesh and I both got invited to short-lead Scion tC press events. His review is found here and nicely covers things like the sound system, recent sales numbers, and the American economy. It’s so comprehensive that I didn’t feel the need to attend my press preview.

I did, however, feel the need to pay my bookie, so I am dutifully submitting this piece to offset a small amount of my personal debt. If you are not in the mood to read two reviews of this car, I have helpfully summarized my review in one sentence, posted “before the jump” for your convenience:

Given sufficient velocity and violence of application, it is possible to set the brakes on fire.

I autocrossed a previous-generation Scion tC in a few different regions, usually finishing in the top half of H Stock, ahead of the rest of the street-tire mongrel dabblers but well off the pace of the properly-set-up Mini Coopers. The original tC was a type of car which was once vanishingly rare but is now increasingly common: one with too much rolling stock. If the little-ish Toyota had a soul, and that soul wanted to fly, surely that soul was weighed down to earth by the enormous alloy wheels and steamroller tires attached to each corner. Rarely has a car of the tC’s modest size felt so weighty and deliberate on the road.

One the move, that first tC was so relentlessly interested in going straight regardless of input that I found myself using the handbrake to turn the car in tighter sections. It was simply reluctant to turn and the overall dynamic package was far more Somerset Regal than Calais 442, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. It struck me as a perfect conveyance for somebody who wants an affordable Japanese coupe but has no interest in going fast. I would have taken the last-generation Celica GT-S and a kick in the face over the Scion tC.

So now we have a new one, with a little more power and a little more weight. Commendably, it’s exactly the same size. Perhaps Toyota has learned from the xB debacle. A conversation I had with one of Toyota’s PR people went something like this:

Me: “Why is the new xB so freakin’ huge, dude?”

PR: “Well, Scion does better than anybody else at reaching out to our customers. We asked thousands of them what they wanted us to do with the xB. Virtually all of them said they wanted more room, more space, more power, more car.” Thoughtful pause. “They may have been lying.”

I was given a 14-mile loop on which to drive the new tC, and I was given a media co-driver. Thankfully, that media co-driver was Alex Nunez, well-known to most of you from his work with Autoblog and ConsumerSearch. Alex is one of those hard-ass New York types that I knew so well as a kid and I expected him to man up for his passenger stint. After a few words, we were off.

I’d chosen a six-speed manual tC with the “TRD Big Brake package”. My experience of aftermarket brake packages is that most of them suck. Typically, they don’t take master cylinder size into account, they don’t work correctly with the factory ABS or stability-control systems, and they often produce less clamping power than the standard cheapo factory setups despite looking better. A look at the Scion owner “brand ambassadors” who had brought their cars for the press preview didn’t ease my mind on the TRD kit’s likely virtues; they all looked like they had stepped off the set of “The Ali G Show”, being as ghetto fabulous as their parents’ money could make them. Clearly not performance drivers, and the Chinese tires wrapped around their “dubs” reinforced the point. If Scion was aiming at them with this kit, they weren’t aiming high.

Oh well. Time to drive. My first test — can the TRD brakes operate effectively in ABS? — was positive. In fact, on the loose road surface available to us, Alex and I were coming in on the ABS time and time again, chattering and skipping down from all the velocity the chunky 2.5-liter four could produce. That four, by the way… it’s not a performance engine. It doesn’t want to rev and it lets you know in a dozen unsubtle audible and tactile ways. Still, it will boot the car down the road. Alex said it sounded “sneezy” or something to that effect.

Next test. Stability control. Over a hump that put the nose of the car temporarily airborne, I cranked the wheel half a turn and kicked the brakes, starting a relatively strong oscillation. With a few blinks of the light, we were straightened out. Okay. That’s good. So far, these brakes appear to be as safe as the stockers. How good are they?

I spent the next six miles working on generating fade. Every turn was a late, full brake. I must have engaged ABS two dozen times from nontrivial speed. Down a steep hill we went, and I used the last trick in my book — the “rookie brake”. A rookie brake is dragging the pads against the brake for two hundred feet before stomping into ABS. It’s what racing rookies who are concerned about making a corner like to do, and it’s a brake killer. Nope. There was light fade at best (or worst).

We screeched to a final halt at the bottom of that long hill and I heard that familiar “hiss-WHOOSH-hiss”. Yes, there was smoke drifting around our cabin now. The pads, the pads, the pads were on fire! Mr. Nunez laughed. A woman in a Camry stared at us. We moved on.

This is a good car, in the sense that it is made well, reasonably priced, and likely to last a long time. Scion says they expect the buyers to be more than half male. If that’s the case, I think that business about estrogen in the water must be true. I can’t see a man buying this for himself, unless that “man” wears skinny pants and listens to Dashboard Confessional. It’s priced about two grand away from the street price of a base Mustang V-6 six-speed. I knew a guy who raced a Scion tC in NASA. We used to laugh at him, even though he was pretty quick, and since “we” were driving Neons, Miatas, Civics, and a Ecotec-powered Cavalier, I think that says something.

It may not be a “man’s car”, but it’s still decent, and the brakes are decent, too. If your mom says you have to get your graduation present at the Toyota dealer, this is your best choice.

Eager to connect with twentysomethings, Scion has sponsored over 2,500 cultural events. Nevertheless, sales are far off their peak. Apparently free doom-metal concerts can only accomplish so much when the target customer can’t find a decent job. Or is the product the problem? Apparently Scion thinks so, as it’s forecasting praying that a redesign of the tC for the 2011 model year will double the model’s sales. (Which, if accomplished, would still leave them at half the 2006 peak.) So, might these prayers be answered?

Though technically a hatchback, the tC has again been successfully disguised as a coupe. Scion claims that the car’s revised sheetmetal is more aggressive and more masculine. And it is, to a limited degree. The blacked-out A-pillars and more dramatically kinked C-pillars are especially successful. Standard 18-inch alloys are another plus. The lack of frameless doors, as seen on the Kia Forte Koup…not so much. Though Scion must think some buyers will actually want to highlight the window frame, as it offers “carbon fiber” B-pillar appliques as an accessory (they’re on the darker car in these photos). As a whole the changes are evolutionary, not revolutionary, and the hatchback coupe, while arguably attractive, is neither striking nor beautiful. On the college campus where the drive event was staged, students walked by an entire row of parked cars with nary a glance.

The almost entirely off-black, drama-free interior is a welcome relief from recent trends in Japanese auto design. I’ve been here before—in the Celica All-trac turbo I owned 20 years ago. A pointlessly flat-bottomed steering wheel (okay, it looks nifty) and double-DIN nav screen (one of three available must-be-twentysomething-to-operate head units) bring me back to 2010. The Scion VP challenged us to replicate the typical owner experience by turning the volume of the 300-watt audio system way past 11. To my ears the system sounds loud, but not notably rich or clear. As promised, the door panels do not rattle.

The 2011 Scion tC’s driving position awakens much more recent memories. You sit relatively low behind a tall instrument panel and short, fairly upright windshield. Not as extreme as the Camaro, but pretty close to the Lexus IS-F. So it’s overtly sporty without fatally compromising visibility. The upside: unlike in the competing Kia Forte Koup, there’s no econobox flavor. Nor, unlike in the Honda Civic coupe, are you inspired to hunt down Klingon warbirds.

The front seats have been widened an inch, to enhance comfort, but lateral support remains decent. The interior’s big surprise: an adult-friendly back seat. There’s more room back there than in the Camaro and Mustang combined, and even decent thigh support. I’ve been less comfortable in some mid-sized sedans. This seat both reclines ten degrees and folds nearly flat. A hatchback provides ready access to the cargo area.

Continuing the evolutionary theme, the tC’s DOHC four-cylinder engine has been enlarged from 2.4 to 2.5 liters, and peak horsepower has been bumped from 161 to 180 at an accessible 6,000 rpm. Both the manual and the automatic now include six ratios (up from five and four, respectively). When that 1988 Celica offered 190 horsepower, it was something special. So part of me still expects 180 horsepower to entertain. Well, in this case it boosts the 3,060-pound tC to sixty in about eight seconds (a little under with the stick, a little over with the automatic) without irritating or delighting any senses. I pronounce this engine fit for duty in the Camry. TRD offered a supercharger for the 2.4, and “might” be working on one for the 2.5. Bring it on. The new engine provokes hardly any torque steer. The chassis can handle more.

The manual shifter slides from gear to gear with better feel than most in this price class. Shorter throws, a mod away, while desirable are not a must. The clutch, which engages with little transition at the very top, would benefit more from an abbreviated travel. The automatic, which can be manually shifted via the lever, was nearly as fun to drive. The additional cogs bump the EPA ratings to 23/31 in both cases. I observed 26 in fairly casual ex-urban driving with the manual, and 20 in considerably less casual driving with the automatic.

The tC’s moderately firm, nicely weighted steering, now electrically assisted, is good as such systems go. The kickback present in many Toyota systems is absent here. Feedback is limited and a quicker, more direct feel would enhance perceived agility, but the same can be said for nearly all hydraulically assisted systems. (A thinner, less heavily padded steering wheel rim would improve feedback.) I felt much the same about the steering in the Lexus IS-F, which is over twice as powerful and costs over three times as much. Scion and Lexus are both emphatically not Toyota, and yet the parent’s DNA cannot be avoided. Refinement comes first.

The rest of the chassis is better. Revised suspension tuning lends the coupe commendable balance and composure, if not agility. Only as the limits are approached does understeer prevail, and then gradually. There’s some fun to be had on the right road. The ride is firm but never harsh, and the body structure feels solid. Also contributing to the impression that the tC is more expensive than it actually is: noise levels are about as low as they get in this price range.

Given the target market, affordability is a must. The 2011 tC starts at $18,995. A panoramic sunroof remains an unexpected standard feature. The only factory-installed option, the automatic transmission, adds $1,000. Dealers offer a broad array of performance- and appearance-enhancing accessories, including a “big brake system.” The segment isn’t as large as it used to be, with only Honda and Kia continuing to offer competing coupes. The Honda Civic Si, with a smaller but more energetic powerplant, lists for $3,770 more. A Kia Forte SX, with very similar dimensions and content, lists for almost exactly the same price as the tC. How many people will pick a Kia over a Toyota Scion, if both are priced the same? Luckily for the Kia, Scion dealers aren’t allowed to negotiate, so even before factoring in the Forte’s more generous incentives the tC’s out-the-door price will be over $500 higher.

The changes to the Scion tC for 2011, though all for the better, are also all evolutionary. Scion encouraged us to turn the audio past 11; they should consider doing the same with the car. The new tC provides a very good starting point. A thoroughly entertaining car could well be just a few pounds of boost and a few tweaks to the steering away. As it is, the Scion tC, though aimed at immature buyers, feels quite mature. Some competitors feel livelier, but they also feel less composed, less substantial, and (especially in the Kia’s case) cheaper. With a hatchback and roomier back seat, the tC is also more practical. Unfortunately, such quiet strengths aren’t going to incite doom-metal-loving twentysomethings to spend cash they don’t have. Free concerts can only do so much. Want to earn lifelong loyalty and sell more cars? Forget the rock fest, sponsor a successful job fair.

Scion provided the vehicles, insurance and fuel (as well as breakfast, lunch and a branded backpack) for this review

Michael Karesh owns and operates TrueDelta, an online source of automotive pricing and reliability data

Big changes were afoot in the Scion back in the summer of 2007, as the brand’s pioneering crop of Yaris-based funkmobiles gave way to a second generation of models aimed at expanding the brand’s appeal to American consumers. Oddly enough, the biggest changes came for a new model with an unchanged name: in a single generation, the the tiny xB went from freaky, fuel-sipping urban runabout to a bloated, Camry-based beast. In contrast, the less-successful xA underwent a far less radical change as it morphed into the xD, saving it from the initial scorn of Scion purists and keeping the brand’s Yaris-based roots alive. Not that the xD has been in any way rewarded for staying (relatively) faithful to its brand’s mission: like the xA it replaced, the xD has never sold better than its larger, less brand-faithful stablemates. Which begs the question: is the xD a bad car, or was the original vision of a funky, urban micro-car brand a dead-end dream?

Surprisingly, this dichotomy isn’t as overly-reductive as you might imagine. After all, the changes made in the transition from the xA to the xD were well-modulated to give American consumers the positive elements of the Yaris platform with the upgrades that could have given the first generation of Scions a fighting chance.

The underlying platform was changed little from the xA, but crucially, the engine was upgraded from a 1.5 liter buzz-box to an altogether gruntier 1.8 liter Corolla unit. Though hard-core purists always enjoyed the challenge of keeping up with American traffic with a mere 103 horsepower, the tiny engines on the first generation of Scions practically required a manual transmission and careful planning to prevent moments of ass-clenching terror on freeway onramps and other high-power-demand driving scenarios. For jaded enthusiasts, these challenges were a revelation in the driving-a-slow-car-fast fun; for the mass-market, this meant popular automatic-transmission models could come across as downright dangerous, even on short test drives.

With an extra 25 horsepower on tap, the xD cures the first-generation’s power-deficit problems, feeling downright rorty in lower gears. The larger engine gives up some of the free-spinning refinement of the 1.5 liter unit, but the rough, raw grunt makes it far more accessible to American tastes. More importantly, the extra performance doesn’t come with the handling and fuel-economy penalties of the Camry-sourced 2.4 liter engine found in the tC and new xB. In fact, even with the very noticeable extra power and 300 lb weight penalty, the xD only gives up a single highway mpg to the xA, coming in at 27 city, 33 highway. 

Indeed, if Scion had simply bunged this engine into the first-generation of xAs and xBs (or better yet, offered it as an option), there’s no telling where the brand might have gone. Especially since so much the first-generation’s charm remains intact. The interior is generally improved over the spartan xA, offering more style and higher-quality materials while losing none of the original’s functional simplicity. Sure, nobs wiggle, buttons jiggle, and the quality appears to be little better than what you can find in late-model Kias, but these are symptoms of the price point and overall an improvement on the first generation of Scions.

Handling is similarly well-preserved, offering crisp turn-in, and firm cornering after some initial lean-in. If the xD’s handling compares poorly to an xA’s, it’s probably because the extra power makes it easier to load up the car’s simple suspension and disturb its composure (a job that’s made easier by the xD’s Toyota-standard numb power steering). On the flip side, the extra power means you don’t have to plan corners out a week in advance in order to find the limits of the xD’s sufficient grip.

Absent any compromises in handling and ergonomics, the benefits of the xD’s power upgrade must be balanced against the its frustratingly unnecessary packaging compromises. Though the xD’s physical dimensions are marginally larger than the xA’s, the extra inches never translate into a noticeable improvement in interior space.

Front leg room is the only interior metric that’s much-improved on the xA, as pushed-forward A-pillars create a more spacious, crossover-like feel up front. Small reductions in headroom go unnoticed, but hip room is down by about 3.5 inches up front and in the second row. The second row’s legroom is also reduced to below 34 inches, eliminating any space advantage in this metric that the xD might have offered over a Yaris (let alone its competitors). Similarly, and despite a larger wheelbase and length, the xD fails to improve on the xA’s cargo capacity, offering only 10.5 cubic feet to the xA’s 11.7. Another non-improvement: the class-leading lack of visibility out of the rear quarters.

When compared to current competitors like the Fit, Soul and Cube, the xD’s packaging compares even less favorably. Though the xD’s extra power makes five-up motoring less terrifying, its compromised packaging eliminates the advantage. Ironically, then, the xD appears to suffer from the opposite problem as the redesigned xB: where the xB became overly bloated in search of PT Cruiser sales, the xA (always the problem child of the Scion lineup sales-wise) had nowhere to go as the designated smallest model of a small-car lineup.

Let’s be clear: unless you regularly roll five-deep, the xD’s packaging won’t be an immediately-obvious compromise. But if you are in the market for a small commuter, two grand less you can now buy a Toyota Yaris five-door that offers a slightly smaller facsimile of the xA experience (without 1.8 power). Or, for the same price as an xD, you buy a Kia Soul which offers first-gen xB-like MPV packaging and xD-like power. Which is exactly what the xD should have offered. Both the Soul and the xD are chuckable and punchy, offering nearly as much around-town fun and frugality and more freeway competence than their most popular competitor, the Honda Fit.

Sadly, more power is all the xD brings to the party. Well, other than the brand-standard dubious set of aesthetics and a now-questionable halo of “Toyota quality.” As just another compact car, the xD is nearly invisible in the market, lacking both the unabashed small-car appeal of the Fit and Yaris, and the practicality of the Soul. The lesson then, is that Scion’s first-generation genius wasn’t in the smallness of its offerings, but in the packaging options it opened in the subcompact class. With the xB swollen out of control and the xD not even trying to offer a distinctive package, it’s no wonder Scion has so badly lost its way.

From its inception, Toyota designed the Scion xB for people that wear their cars rather than drive them. I won’t belabor the stylistic transformation of the Scion’s scion. Suffice it to say, the xB’s breakout proportions and streamlining rob the rig of its cubist innocence. The front of the hood and roof seem crunched in places, and the backwards sweeping headlights contribute to shaping a sinister countenance. Goodbye juice box. Yo gangsta.

One gets the sense Toyota tried too hard to bottle lightning with the xB. Scion’s web site features photos of 13 vividly painted and modified xB’s that suggest creative individuality, ala MINI Cooper. Of course, in sensible Toyota fashion, each of these photos also comes with the disclaimer, “Vehicle is for show only and not street legal; modified with non-genuine Scion parts (which void the warranty and may adversely impact performance).” I’m no stylish young dude, but even I know that the kids don’t allow attorneys to crash their raves. Duh!

The overt appeal to the college age demographic is found on the center of the dashboard. For an extra $389, Scion’s Pioneer Premium Audio System gives buyers the same audio features found in the base 160W system. But the Yoof of American can load images and video into the stereo to be played on a small LCD face. Oh, and the more expensive unit’s power button is positioned almost out of reach in the upper right hand corner. That doesn’t seem like money well spent, but what do I know? I remember when radio buttons felt like an old jukebox.

The standard six speakers aren’t up to the job (i.e. thumping pedestrian’s chests at forty paces). The bass blasts feel weaker than Hugo Chavez’s threats against Pres Bush. Thankfully, Scion has provided convenient speaker jacks so owners can add subwoofers large enough to agitate pods of orcas frolicking in nearby oceans.

Speaking of false steps, the xB’s interior is plagued by numerous niggling ergonomic errors. Irritatingly enough (and then some), the driver’s seat armrest is placed above the seatbelt buckle. I don’t necessarily mind offset gauges. But the Scion’s are too small; in bright sunlight you can’t read the amber tachometer. Plug-in those subs, and you can’t hear the shift point, either.

Shifting xB’s gears has more in common with an old ’78 Ford F-250 with three-on-the-tree than a contemporary compact runabout. The xB’s stick sprouts from the dashboard; swapping cogs is more an exercise of up and down rather than forward and back. The long travel clutch requires that you lift your entire left leg and stomp down to engage. Heel toe shifting? Forgeddaboudit. Nonetheless, gearshifts snick into place with trademark Toyota goodness.

The xB is now motivated by the 158hp 2.4-liter powerplant, lifted from the ubiquitous Camry. The Scion’s in-line four-pot is well suited to the xB. Despite the model’s 600 lbs. weight increase (to 3,026 lbs.), the xB’s engine provides class-compliant get-up-and-go. I SAID DESPITE… Faint praise aside, the xB’s extra 55 horses help make the model a far more stable and relaxed high-speed cruiser than its breathless predecessor.

The penalty: Ye Olde Bento box xB got better mileage. Stylin’ SUV refuges will still love the xB’s 25 mpg observed fuel economy (EPA 22/28). Throw the xB through a few corners and these light truck downsizers will feel even more at home. Scion’s rolling brick leans like the Sears tower in a wind storm. On the positive side, the xB’s all-season high-performance 16” Goodyear Eagles resist squealing like John Gotti. Push harder, and the understeer nose plough arrives on cue. The xB’s uber shoes claw at the tarmac until they can’t– at which point they let go and skitter sideways.

So here’s the problem: underneath its obvious effort to throw some gang signs at those who know what gang signs are, the reinvented Scion xB has secretly become more like everything else on the road. While there’s nothing about the xB revision that would stop a playa from buying one, or a safety-seeking member of the sensible shoe brigade, the xB has lost its quirkiness and high mpg cred. Send this one over to The Ministry of Silly Cars, stat.

I suppose the best thing that can be said about the xD’s looks is that they’re not nearly so bad in person. The four-door’s evil Pokemon bumper isn’t quite as offensive as it appears in photos. The teeny rear window isn’t really as small as an Electra-Glide’s windscreen. The flame-surfaced sides aren’t as dopey as a Bimmer’s. And the overall effect isn’t nearly as revolting as it could be.

That said, the xD’s grossly distended C-pillar, which links it with the hideous xB, is worse than it appears. Why Scion decided that this visual obstruction should be the brand’s new visual signature is beyond me; unless they’re secretly in cahoots with the insurance industry. I digress.

The xD’s interior is surprisingly swank for one so affordable. Thankfully, the dash ditches the xA’s heinous center display for a more user-friendly central speedo; albeit one housed in a plastic surround reminiscent of a Kohler urinal. The xD’s climate control dials were lifted straight from the Camry, but their tactility doesn’t induce instant recoil. Even better, all the hard bits are sparkly and shiny. And the xD’s sporty-looking chairs are firm and supportive, despite their cuddly-soft covering.

More to the target demographic, the xD’s standard Pioneer-branded audio system offers wheel-mounted iPod connectivity (take that VeeDub). For an additional $389, you get six sick speakers and wikkid graphics. Pony-up $1950 for the Alpine sat nav audio system and you’re looking at backlit blue buttons, touch screen, hidden DVD player–  enough bling to satiate all but the crunkest of pimps. While that’s well over 10 percent of the car’s purchase price, the F&I guy’s got a deal for you…

On paper, the interior of the xD is smaller than the xA it replaced. Yet it manages to feel bigger inside. That’s because the rear seats are well off the floor and set back farther into the trunk, affording rear-seat passengers the kind of legroom xA passengers dreamed about/prayed for. You can slide the xD’s rear seats forward from the hatch, adding an extra four to five inches of length. The seats also fold flat, providing plenty of cargo space for college-bound rug rats or yard sale-haunting retirees.

Start ‘er up, put the pedal to the metal and you’ll know why this car costs $16k. The xD’s 1.8-liter, Corolla-sourced engine squirts out 128-horses. First gear is woo-hoo fun, second gear is a crushing disappointment, and third and fourth are totally forgettable. To help compensate, Toyota offers an automatic setup whereby you can quickly downshift into third gear for passing. At which point the four cylinder mill starts thrash talking, providing nothing particularly helpful in the way of oompf. Hey it’s the thought that counts.

The steering is light and nimble, if predictably numb. The xD rolls through corners like a drunken frat boy, but there is little understeer (a non-speed-related bonus) and dealer-sourced sway bars and a handful of other performance mods will make it, uh, better. Anyway, get a grip (so to speak). At its heart, the xD is an economy car for economy-minded buyers. And that leaves only one real beef with the car’s “performance:” the astonishing amount of wind and tire noise whilst underway. This baby needs some Lexus DNA, stat.

The xA’s 2300lb. curb weight and minuscule engine deliver 27/35 miles per gallon (EPA new method, automatic transmission). Big bruddah xD weighs 300 lbs more, and sports a larger engine, leaving drivers with a slightly less miserly 26/32. But if you like extra grunt– OK, any grunt– it may be worth sacrificing the extra gas for your pleasure.

In driving for the cheap, urban hipster segment with the first round of Scions, Toyota managed to nail the cheap, middle-aged set square between the eyes. The xB and xA were hits with the gray-hairs, selling in surprising amounts to people who just wanted something small and versatile with great gas mileage. Now that the new xB and xD thoroughly alienate that set of purchasers– due to their shoddy gas mileage and menacing sheetmetal– what’s left?

Most of the cool kids are driving Hondas, after all. But the xD is an amazingly cheap deal. In base trim, the xD doesn’t feel that cheap to drive (take that, Versa). In the end, it speaks better to Scion’s target audience than the xA ever did, even if its more aggressive demeanor disappoints prior fans.

The original xB was a brilliant design, an instant cult-classic, as iconic as the first VW Beetle. The box fresh box elicited the same emotional responses as the old bug: children, freshly-minted motorists and the young at heart all loved it. The xB was barely longer than a MINI and almost as much fun to drive, with the accommodations of a Tahoe and 30-plus mpg.

If the last gen xB evoked images of a lacquered bento box lunch, the new xB evokes a big, sloppy hamburger wrapped in greasy paper. Toyota’s drive to assimilate into the American heartland is relentless; its Texas Tundra brand BBQ sauce-stained fingerprints are all over this little porker.

The xB has gained 650 pounds, a foot in length, and three inches in width. Obviously, there’s a price to pay at the gas pump for that corn-fed heft. EPA numbers are down almost 25 percent for the city cycle (’06 adjusted), from 28 to 22 mpg.

That xB’s extra 12 inches are totally wasted; it all goes to making the hood longer. More room to mount a set of Texas steer horns? And since height is reduced, the XB actually loses usable passenger space.

The throne-like seating position has lost four inches of leg room. Headroom has also diminished. Ditto the back seat, where my 6’4” frame once sat in limo-comfort, with a good four inches of clearance to the front back-rest. Now my knees graze the horrendously cheap-feeling fabric of the front seats.

The xB’s front seats might as well have been lifted straight out of a 1971 Chevy Vega. Where the old thrones were nicely bolstered and contoured, with a nubby textural two-tone fabric, the new ones are molded blobs covered in a dreary monolithic black fabric. The Chevy Aveo’s seats put these to shame.

Toyota must have scored a volume deal from GM for vintage interior molds; the door panels are now harder than a trigonometry quiz. The xB’s lamentable polymerization also includes the upper arm-rest surface where my elbow likes to rest. At least the Vega had a little cushion there.

The xB’s interior package suffers mightily from the reshaped dimensions, the new seating position and the new model's higher belt-line. The xB’s superb view– favored by many of its elderly patrons– has been cruelly reduced. Now one sits deep and low, Hummer style, peering out gun-slit windows. And less of them: the rear three-quarter windows have disappeared.

The cute, perfectly positioned, oval-shaped analog instrument cluster that once perched atop the xB’s artistically shaped and textured dash has been replaced by four small oval, orange-lit displays. They're buried low and deep in the middle of the ponderous dash. The nervously-flashing digital speedometer is yet another 1980’s GM throw-back.

The new XB has the Camry’s 2.4-liter 158hp engine. It’s a competent and smooth mill that makes the new xB a faster vehicle, but a less engaging one. The old XB’s little 1.5-liter engine had an eager willingness and mechanical presence that made every trip to the pizzeria fun, especially with the stick. 

In another GM-esque move, the Camry’s five-speed automatic didn’t make the bean-counter’s cut; the xB’s old four-speed slushbox soldiers on. Buyers opting for the manual tranny now row their boat with a shifter that protrudes from a large extension from the bottom of the dash– which enhances the perception of lost interior real estate. Equally annoying, the vague-acting clutch pedal sticks up higher than the brake pedal.

The new XB is faster, but the fun (and challenge) is gone. The new-found heft and softer ride takes XB handling from MINI territory right to into Camry Land. And we all now how engaging and exciting THAT is.

The xB’s electrically-assisted steering lacks the crispness and linearity of the former hydraulic unit. There were times I swear I could feel the electric motor on the other end of the steering column muttering at me under its breath– in a way that reminded me of my fifteen year old son.

Is there anything good to say about the new, ostensibly improved Scion XB? Yes. It now comes with cruise control and more air bags. 

In short, the xB has become nothing more than a low-content five-door Camry. It’s Toyota’s el-cheapo ($16,230) version of the Chevrolet Malibu Maxx.

In fact, the new xB doesn’t deserve the Scion moniker, which established the brand's U.S. reputation as a provider of affordable automobiles with style, efficiency, quality, innovation and fun. Maybe Toyota could get a deal on the Oldsmobile name from GM.

Thanks to its exterior, the xA almost gets away it. Sure, it looks a bit like a grouper fish, but the xA is big and bold, in its tiny little way. The xA's minivan shape and clever window tinting give it a level of design intergrity that's rare for its class. Whether Gen Y would choose the Scionfish over something with more Cribs cred from the used car lot is another matter. Suffice it to say, the xA is as far removed from the Vicodin-on-wheels Echo as Adidas Ozweegos are from nursing shoes.

Once inside, the centrally mounted instrument pod continues the aesthetic rebellion. This unsafe alternative to traditional ergonomics makes the helmspot as blank as a bumper car, and reflects the brand's skewed priorities: function follows market research. The xA's audio system, complete with 10-color display and built-in distortion (I kid you not), also tries to convince Sciontists that they're rebels without a platinum AMEX, rather than sensible car buyers.

Now THAT's funny. What could be more sensible than a small Toyota? The xA has room for five [slim] adults, gets over thirty mpg, comes with a three-year, 36k mile warranty; pollutes the planet less than a herd of polled Herefords and costs no more than a decent home entertainment system ($13k). Although no sub-compact makes sense from a safety point-of-view, the xA offers surprising survivability for one so small. Scion brand managers will hate me for saying so, but the xA is xActly the kind of car an elderly person on a fixed income would enjoy.

Maybe "enjoy" isn't the right word. The xA is powered by the Echo's 1.5-liter in-line 4-cylinder engine. As you'd expect, Toyota's engineers have done everything they can to give the Echo/xA passable (if not passing) power: double-overhead cams, 16 valves, variable valve timing and multi-port electronic fuel injection. As you'd expect, the result is still Slow and Serious. Zero to 60 takes 10.7 seconds, with the quarter mile appearing in 17.4 seconds. Spirited it ain't.

Adequate it is. There's even a tasty chunk of powerband between 2500 and 4000rpm where the xA will do a reasonable imitation of a car with in-gear acceleration. Although peak power (108hp) arrives at 6000rpm, the engine's "Wall of Boom" soundtrack makes an assault on the redline an aural stress test. Thrill seeking xA drivers are advised to buy the 5-speed, shift like mad, plan ahead and plan early.

And avoid potholes. The xA's ride is surprising civilized– until it isn't. The moment you encounter a surface imperfection, it's as if someone hit the car with a large mallet. Clearly, someone at Toyota figured that the youth of America can't tell the difference between the acceptable harshness of a sports-tuned suspension and the rough-riding character of a comfort-biased chassis with the comfort removed.

At relatively slow (sensible?) speeds, the xA's low curb weight and stiffened suspension deliver admirable poise through the turns. Combined with a user-friendly power-assisted rack and pinion steering system, the set-up is responsive enough to embolden a young driver's reckless nature. Uh-oh. Spank the xA and you're headed straight to Hell in a hand basket. The steering loses all precision, the drum brakes fade and the torsion beam suspension gives up. Push it that little bit too far and terminal understeer will slide you across the road like a fallen figure skater heading for the boards.

All of which begs the question: is the Scion xA really a young person's car? Given the large number of elderly xA buyers– given ANY elderly buyers– the answer is an unequivocal no. The only thing separating the xA from any other generic Japanese econobox is the car's shape and the 46 factory-made tuning bits– which aren't half as cool as Scion thinks they are.

In fact, Scion's youth orientation is fatally flawed. When it comes to selling to hipsters, the moment you win, you lose. Brands like Nike and Adidas circumvent the exclusivity vs. mass market problem by inventing new shoes and sports apparel on an hourly basis. Car manufacturers can't use the same template, no matter how many after-market parts they devise. But they CAN create a fundamentally desirable car that attracts a wide range of buyers. Strangely enough, that's a perfect description of the dull but worthy Scion xA.

To access the tC's hatch you must lift up the cover yourself, at which time the plastic clip detaches itself and shouts to the others, "Hey guys, you gotta try this!" The other clips jump in unison and the whole affair crashes down into the trunk faster than you can utter your expletive of choice. Good luck re-attaching it. After five attempts and two dozen expletives, I placed the cover in the aforementioned Position 3. By the time I loaded my groceries, the milk was past its sell-by date.

Despite this "challenging" introduction, I was prepared to forgive the tC its foibles. I really like the other Scions. The xA is a zippy little minicar, while the packing-crate-shaped xB makes an excellent packing crate. Despite the vast array of inane options (multi-colored illuminated cupholders? have we really fallen that far?), these two little cars have an irresistible cheap-n-cheerful spirit. In comparison, the tC acts like it was adopted.

In a way, it was. Both Xs are based on Toyota Echo mechanicals; the tC is based on the stunningly ugly European-market Avensis (imagine a Camry wearing a poorly-fitting Passat costume). Parent Toyota's attempt to make the tC look like part of the Scion family is half-hearted at best. The rear has more than a bit of Volvo about it, while the side suffers from a touch of the TT's. Only the tC's front end seems vaguely familial. Put the threesome together and it's clear which children Toyota favors: the little cute ones.

Still, everyone who saw my test tC raved about the styling. Its dimensions are certainly spot-on; the tC offers the speed-oriented driver an alluring size and stance. And I'm happy to admit that it's a good-looking little car in a budget sort of way— but will you remember what it looks five minutes after you turn away? Wait; let me look at the picture again. Maybe not.

Inside, the tC is even less Scionly. The traditional-looking gauges are traditionally mounted (the xA and xB have funky dials mounted in the center of the dash; perhaps they move left when the cars hit puberty). Goofy lights are kept to a minimum. The tC shares the family's wikkid sound system, designed to knock low-flying Cessnas out of nearby airspace. The center stack may look like it's made of the same metal-effect plastic used for Build Your Own Robot kits, but the controls are ergonomically sound. In all, it's a comfortable, practical place to spend some quality drive time.

To get you up-to-speed, the Scion tC uses a 160hp 2.4 liter four-cylinder engine swiped from the Toyota Camry. Unfortunately, Scion's engineers forgot to tweak the engine's fun critical VVT (Variable Valve Technology) for a burst of high-rpm power. By leaving the Camry's fattened bottom end intact, the tC is powerful enough to escape the xX mystique ("Will I make it to 75 MPH?"), but ditchwater dull. It lacks even a taste of the free-revving excitement of its properly fettled, slightly more powerful Celica GT-S sibling.

But fast is fast, right? I mean zero to sixty in less than eight seconds for $16,465 (base manual) sounds like a performance bargain. I refer you to Pat Boone's "In a Metal Mood" CD. The words and the tune may be right, but you won't want to bang your head to his rendition of Enter Sandman. The tC is more speed efficient than adrenally accelerative. Speed does not equal soul.

There's another way to reach the same conclusion: throw the front-wheel-drive tC into a corner. You'll immediately discover that Scion doesn't expect you to know the difference between good grip and good handling. The all-season Pirellis wrapped around the tC's optional 18" Enkeis provide less feedback than a 20-watt guitar amp. Understeer arrives without so much as ringing the doorbell. Safe, yes. Fun, no.

Hatch mechanism aside, there's nothing particularly wrong with the tC. Spare the horses you'll find a civilized little car at a fabulous price. In fact, Toyota made a mistake by marketing the tC as a Scion. With its refined manner, solid feel and aloof personality, they should have called it the TC240 and sold it as an entry-level Lexus. In other words, the tC is the scion of the wrong family.

Unlike the Pontiac Aztek, an SUV so gruesome it turns onlookers to stone, the xB is not a heavy-handed pastiche. Sure, there's a bit of bread van, a touch of funeral hearse, a soupcon of the old mini, a hint of an industrial air conditioning unit. But the xB is what it is, in a non-apologetic kind of way. If you like owning something "distinctive", well, Scion's boxy four-door is certainly that. The xB is at least as visually arresting as a Ferrari, Bentley or Aston— for $14k.

At that price, pistonheads would be forgiven for thinking that the xB must be an empty style statement: a slow, uncomfortable and nasty-handling tin-can, sold solely on the basis of its eccentricity and much advertised customizability. Nope. The xB is a complete package, offering more-than-merely-adequate poke, superb ergonomics and, gulp, fun.

Make sure no one's looking, cover your eyes and enter the belly of the beastie. The windscreen is widescreen. The driving position elevated. The dinner plate-sized speedo sits on the top tier of the dash, with an inset rev counter and fuel gauge. The idiot lights, clock and odometer cluster nearby. The radio and rotary climate controls occupy the center pod. The window buttons, indicator stalk and lights are right where they should be. And that's it. What else do you need? Nothing. Put that in your iDrive and smoke it.

While we're at it, let's credit Toyota for being the first manufacturer to realize that buyers at the lower end of the market prefer, no, need premium ICE. The xB's Pioneer unit is MP3-compatible and satellite radio-ready, with three EQ modes. The optional 6-CD player offers 10 display colors, including "lithium". The company's unabashed determination to appeal to Gen Y is also reflected by their decision not to fit a distortion limiter to the 160-watt sound system. Full volume is Hell on wheels, but it's probably a blessing in disguise, as Neighborhood Watch groups will no doubt attest.

If you're dead set on deafening your crew, the xB will accommodate three XXX Large Homies, with Bidness Class leg room. Should street style somehow mutate towards top hats, you're covered there as well. Turf out two cohorts, fold down the rear seats and the refrigerator-shaped van can fit a refrigerator. In short, the xB is a mini-MPV in drag— I mean, with drag

The xB attempts to surmount its flying brick aerodynamics with a 1.5-liter four-cylinder engine. Toyota has blessed the xB's mini motor with double-overhead cams, 16 valves, variable valve timing, multi-port fuel injection, the works. Although the autobox variant ambles from 0 to 60mph in 10.6 seconds, it feels significantly faster. Yes, overtaking requires more forward planning than a military invasion. Sure, highway onramps demand perfect timing and every single one of the xB's 108 horses. But around town, the unrelentingly angular Scion is a seriously willing, nippy little machine.

The xB's handling accounts for much of the van's fun factor. The xB serves-up a pleasing amalgamation of rack-and-pinion steering and a well sorted suspension (with anti-roll bars fore and aft). Aesthetically challenged hooligans can carry a surprising amount of speed into the corners, without surprising themselves. You wouldn't mistake the xB's road manners for a BMW's, but the front-wheel-drive econo-box is a lot more satisfying to drive than many equally commodious, gas-guzzling SUV's.

The xB's brakes are another pleasant surprise. Again, the numbers aren't particularly impressive. Car and Driver reports that the front disc, rear drum set-up can haul the xB from 70mph to rest in 200 feet. At lesser speeds, in the midst of urban conflict, you can give the xB's brakes a proper pasting, confident that the [standard] ABS and traction control system will help prevent a blizzard of insurance paper work. The pedal feel is not bad, you know, considering.

Considering what? That the xB is more of a fashion statement than transportation? Well it ain't necessarily so. Despite Toyota's clever ad campaigns aimed at style-conscious early adopters, old fogies are buying the van in droves. In fact, 51% of xB buyers are over 35. And why not? The xB is an excellent steer that offers utility, reliability and spectacular value for money. Maybe the key to understanding/living with/appreciating the xB's quirky appearance is to be old enough not to give a damn.