The new ForTwo maintains its Tonka-toy proportions and look at me I’m wearing designer glasses (without a prescription) unconventionality. There’s now a painted parenthesis around the driver’s compartment: a clever if unsuccessful attempt to reassure drivers that Smart’s got their back (as there’s nothing much behind them). From certain angles, the slash-marked Four Two looks like a Pokemon with weird sideburns. Anyway, there’s no denying that observers (especially women) fight the urge to muss the ForTwo’s metaphorical hair and pinch its figurative cheeks.

The ForTwo’s new cabin uses shapes, textures and fonts with a bit less originality than before. The dash is now monolithic in the mighty Mercedes manner. And it's a shame the signature twin periscopes (rpms and clock) aren’t standard issue. On the positive side, the interior is still remarkably airy and spacious: a haven for a brace of art loving urbanites. The materials quality and fit and finish surpass Ye Olde SMART’s by a wide margin. Better yet, the ForTwo’s trunk can now swallow a full 58 gallons of luggage. One more Tumi for the road? 

The stateside Smarts are motivated by a one-liter, three cylinder engine. The erstwhile powerplant is a revvy little beast, even at idle. Annoying stationary vibration aside, the mini-mill certainly gives its all– 70 horses– to the cause of forward momentum. Guide the tachometer needle to the 6500rpm redline and you just might accelerate (if that’s the right word) from rest to 60mph in 12 seconds. The ForTwo will also cruise relatively comfortably at 70mph. That’s provided you can wait that long and surmount the recalcitrance of the FourTwo's passion killing gearbox.

The original SMART was rightly and roundly criticized for its hesitant transmission. The new box still changes gears sequentially (when you request) or automatically (when it feels like it). Gear change times are reduced. But sadly, the new ForTwo still shifts the way Frank Costanza talks. Driving softly, the box swaps cogs smoothly. But hard acceleration will make you and your passenger look like diehard (one hopes) headbangers. Even worse, if you need a burst of oomph for emergency overtaking, the Smart ForTwo will pause for a moment or two before summoning more shove– while you contemplate a messy and untimely death.

The ForTwo’s suspension is also improved– but not by enough. For a city car that’s shorter than an NBA player carrying a midget on his shoulders, the ForTwo v2 rides pretty well. For any other type of car, the suspension sucks. You'd have to be a fan of sadomasochism lite to enjoy the Smart's hard not to say buckboard-quality ride. If potholes mar your local landscape, well, a smart Smart owner will have his chiropractor on speed dial.

The other downside of a hard-sprung car: you can be fooled into believing it handles well. Yes, the ForTwo corners flat. And it's true: my tester’s unassisted steering was as meaty as a cauldron of Texas chili. But the ForTwo's limits are lower than snake hips, and the ESP handling nanny is always on duty. Not to put too fine a point on it, an aggressive driver can put the ForTwo into any handling attitude they like– as long as it's an understeer slide. 

So the Smart is an unpleasant-to-drive, one-trick pony. And yet there are plenty of people– some 30k American early adopters at last count– who couldn’t care less about its dreadful driving dynamics. To wit: on a three-hundred mile mosey along the Moselle River, my girlfriend fell in love with the ForTwo. She was charmed by the friendly questions posed by rural Belgians, and amused when the driver of a twenty-ton truck honked and gave us a thumbs up as we passed on a twisty mountain road (I was frozen with fear).

I reckon the Smart ForTwo is the automotive equivalent of Maxwell Smart's Cone of Silence: a great idea in theory, a laughable device in practice. Then again, the ForTwo is a statement. And it does bear a striking resemblance to the Porsche 911: a patently ridiculous concept made drivable by obsessive-compulsive German engineers. But while the Porsche has almost always made money, the Smart never has. Judging from v2, it probably never will.

Admittedly, my automotive tastes run towards aggressive-looking beasts with luxurious curves that bring shivers to places best not mentioned here. By that standard, the smart fortwo could easily be the named “the vehicle least likely to raise wood.” I just can’t get my head around the fact that the fourtwo is a car, and not a four-wheeled projectile fired out of battleship’s main guns. (Up close, it looks like a baby’s pram crossed with a Pokemon.) While I could fully deconstruct the utter strangeness of the fourtwo’s design, this paragraph is already longer than the car itself. Suffice it to say, the fourtwo is a four-wheeled two-by-four.

Of course, it would be easy to just let rip and have a good ole slagfest at the smart's expense. Sure, the cargo capacity sucks; there’s hardly enough extra space to pack a couple of Slim Jims. Yes, from a safety point-of-view, it’s SUV toe jam. And sure, the Canada-spec diesel engine only puts out 40hp, making the fourtwo only marginally faster than walking. [NB: a British lunatic dropped a Hayabusa bike engine, beefed up the suspension and created a 180hp track monster known as the "smartuki."] Well, guess what?  It cain't tow nothin’ neither.

On the positive side, the fourtwo is an environmentalist’s wet dream. You can drive the snot out of it all day for under $13 in diesel, stick it in parking spots meant for two-wheelers, leave the atmosphere almost completely chemically unmolested and receive two thumbs up from academics and hairy socialist types who assume you give a shit about the environment. That’s not exactly my thing, but it’s still a refreshing change from the middle digit communication afforded the Hummer H3. Anyway, the fortwo is a very clever piece of engineering.

Forone thing, it’s amazing how much room there is inside the motorized fishbowl. The sloped windshield is panoramic, the side windows are bigger than my widescreen TV and there's plenty of head and legroom for life-sized human beings. The initial impression– that there’s nothing between you and oncoming traffic– is eventually dispelled by the enormous expanse of foam-padded dash twixt wheel and glass. While I've seen tougher-looking accessories on a Tonka toy, the fortwo’s instrumentation is hilarious; think iMac meets the Jetsons. The clock and tachometer are housed in globes atop swiveling stalks.

Despite the Mercedes Benz connection, the fourtwo’s switchgear errs on the side of cheap and cheerful, operating with all the precision and tactility of a cereal box top. By the same token, the optional clutch-free semi-manual transmission is entirely without grace. Generally I try these tip shift gizmos out once, just to say I did, and then ignore them. However, the fourtwo’s slapstick is infinitely preferable to the lag and lurch of automatic mode – which causes the back of your head to repeatedly meet the headrest, and not in that muscle car kinda way.

The smart fourtwo’s handling is the fourth Ace in the deck (after fuel economy, size and planet hugging street cred). It feels as if the smart has been bolted to a go-kart frame. Stiff and square, with a wheel at each corner, there's almost zero body roll and lots of road feel beneath your butt. Although it requires more forward planning than a Middle Eastern invasion, blowing by startled Mustangs and Hondas like a giant mutant high-top on steroids is a priceless experience. However, due to the fourtwo’s height and slab-sided-ness, understeer is out there… somewhere… and strong winds at highway speed require both hands on the wheel.  In fact, the ride’s so squirrelly, it might as well have a farking sail.

Once I got over my initial reluctance to be seen in the fourtwo, I got a perverse pleasure from driving the wee beastie everywhere. It was hugely satisfying bringing it to car meets, provoking extended bouts of contemptous sniggering from stalwart hairy-chested muscle car guys. Almost without exception, the car’s sardonic detractors were eventually won over by the fourtwo’s practicality and spacious interior– even if they only admitted their enchantment begrudgingly. It’s true. Whether a grassroots grease monkey or an over-moneyed connoisseur of silken engineering, any true car nut is sure to find the smart Fortwo a compelling automobile-– even if they would never, ever own one.

Speed matters. So does size. A Lamborghini Murcielago can crest 200mph on an autobahn, but it’s slower than a pair of roller skates down a busy city street. Enter Mercedes’ chic new SMART car. It’s tiny– small enough to dart through any gap wider than an NFL lineman. It’s quick– well, “nippy”. It uses less fuel than a John Deere lawn mower. In fact, the SMART should be an urban driver’s dream come true. It isn’t.

Oh, but don’t you wish it was? It’s so cute! The SMART has all the charm of a baby animal: tiny body, big head and huge, doleful eyes. Awwww. Look! The radiator is smiling at you! Unlike the much-hyped MINI, the SMART’s Pokemon-morphed-with-a-golf-cart design both startles and captivates. You don’t want to buy the SMART so much as take it home and cook it a hot meal.

Inside, the SMART is even more endearing. The car offers a range of “big car” toys: central locking, air conditioning, sunroof, sat nav, CD player and more. All the details—from the pizza slice door handles to the cup holder/ashtray— are fresh without being pretentious. Like a “real” Merc, all the controls work, and work well. The wipers wipe. The ventilation ventilates. The more time you spend in the car, the more you understand why SMART means both stylish and intelligent.

Funky touches like the twin periscopes surfacing from the dash (clock and rev counter) will get all the press, but the ergonomics deserve the real attention. The cabin is mounted above the engine (where else could they put it?), placing you virtually level with SUV drivers. This lofty driving position combined with an epic windscreen and large side windows delivers a panoramic view. Sitting behind the wheel, nestling into the heated seats, you’d swear you were driving an MPV.

If you value style, comfort and political correctness above all, stop here. Note that Daimler-Chrysler plans to import the SMART into the US sometime in the next year or so, and head for the brand’s suitably trendy website. Now, for those of you who value driving pleasure more than PC bragging rights, hold on. It’s gonna get rough.

To thrive in its natural environment, a city car needs quick and accurate steering, to boldly go where no SUV has gone before. Unfortunately, the SMART’s helm is severely under-assisted at lower speeds; changing direction from a standstill requires a manly “heave-ho”. Even worse, you have no idea how far you’ve turned the wheels until you set off– at which point you can easily find yourself heading towards the bumper of something large and unyielding. Once you get going, the steering is crisp and perfectly weighted. Which is just as well. Past 40mph, the slab-sided city car is more likely to be blown off course than a 17th century sailing ship.

The only thing more challenging than holding the SMART on a steady bearing is changing speed. Mercedes can rightly claim to build some of the world’s best automatic transmissions. Now they can claim to build the world’s worst. The SMART’s autobox doesn’t “slur” its changes. It stops, thinks about it, thinks about it some more, then gives you the next gear. It’s the perfect car for the Japanese; the sudden loss of momentum forces you to bow between gears.

Floor it– the usual method for rousing a Mercedes engine– and it’s not so much “kick down” as “cut out”. At the exact moment you ask for/need a little extra oomph, the handbag-sized engine goes into a second-long sulk. Switching off the auto leaves you with a sequential-style shift. The faux manual transmission option shortens the changing times, but only slightly. Personally engaging the gears accentuates the “light the fuse and wait” gear changes. A sporting driver will find the suspense… unbearable.

The SMART’s handling is also a lot less than excellent. While the SMART is not a sports car, even a bumper car is fast enough to challenge the gods of handling. In this case, the gods win. Mercedes modified the SMART’s suspension after the A-Class “elk test” debacle, eliminating any possibility of tipping over in a corner. At the same time, the SMART’s TRUST-PLUS stability system denies drivers the slightest chance of what we enthusiasts call “fun”. AND it’s hard riding.

The SMART could have had it all: style, comfort and speed. MB’s ‘ultimate city car’ is let down by lousy steering, an uncooperative gearbox, a dim-witted suspension and a zero-to-sixty time north of 15 seconds. Of course, this focus on the car’s dynamic abilities is beside the point. There’s an entire rainforest of eco warriors ready to remind me that the SMART is not about performance or driving pleasure. It’s about conserving our dwindling resources, 40+ miles per gallon and 85% recyclability. Ain’t THAT the truth.