Apparently I’m a stereotypical Subaru shopper. I’m in my 30s and live on 9-acres of redwood forest in Northern California where I run a small organic egg farm. My nearest neighbor is a mile away and the closest concrete or asphalt driving surface is a 3 mile trek through the woods. During the winter I value AWD and high ground clearance, not because I need it (my 2005 Jaguar XJ has never been stuck) but like most Americans, I feel safe and secure by having a larger margin for error. I also have a special place in my heart for station wagons. It was therefore no surprise to my neighbors when I drove home one day in the Outback’s little brother, the XV Crosstrek.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Exterior

If the XV looks familiar, you’re not imagining things, you have seen this body before. This is an Impreza 5-door with off-road body cladding, black wheels and a lift kit. If that sounds like the old Outback Sport, you’re half right because this time Subaru went the extra mile when “offroadifying” (like my new word there?) the Impreza. Instead of confusing shoppers with an Outback and an Outback Sport that have little to do with one another, they renamed the Impreza crossover utility wagon (CUW) for 2013 to end the confusion. In addition to the name change it gets real dirt-road cred an SUV-like 8.5 inches of ground clearance. (The Outback Sport made do with a trifling 0.2-inch height increase vs 3 in the XV.) Subaru’s corporate design elements are all at play on the XV and while it may seem plain to some, it’s unlikely to offend, except for the shocking orange paint our tester wore. (You can get your XV in shades other than orange but regardless of the hue, the wheels are always black.) Instead of the sashless windows Subaru has long been known for, the XV gets standard doors with window frames making them feel more substantial than Subaru models of the past.

Think of the XV as the Impreza’s outdoorsy brother. You know, the one that moved to the country, wears flannel on the weekend but still commutes to a day job in the city. Early crossovers had a similar mission, but demand for a car-like ride has caused the current crop of CUVs to return to car-like ride heights while warehouse shopping excursions demand minivan-like cargo holds. That’s not to say CUWs are “true off roaders,” that much is obvious by the size of the front overhang, long wheelbase and on-road tires. Instead, the mission is to provide an efficient, civilized ride for that outdoorsy brother on the way to downtown and the ability to ford that low-water-crossing on the way to his organic farm.

Interior

The XV shares interiors with the $17,895 Impreza from the seats to the soft-touch dashboard. While plastics aren’t as nice as the Outback, they do represent a significant step up from the last generation Impreza and Outback Sport and aren’t out-of-place here. The XV is $1,700 more than a similar Impreza 5-door but when you factor in the standard 17-inch wheels, body cladding and lift kit the cost difference is minimal. Starting at a reasonable $21,995 and ending at $27,290, the XV is one of the best AWD values going. Oddly however, the 2014 Subaru Forester starts at exactly the same price.

The base XV is the “Premium” trim which sports durable fabric seats in black or ivory. Ivory lovers beware, interior color is dictated by exterior color and ivory is only available with black, red, blue and white paint. Limited models spruce up the cabin with leather seating surfaces, single-zone automatic climate control and heated seats.

I found the driver’s seat extremely comfortable on my long commute, but shoppers should spend time in the car before buying as the seat’s don’t offer adjustable lumbar support and the front passenger seat doesn’t offer the same range of motion as the driver’s. I heard a number of forum complaints about the leather seats feeling “mushy” in reference to the padding but my short stint in a dealer provided vehicle left the same impression as the cloth models in my mind. Perhaps there were some early production quality issues? All models feature a manual tilt/telescoping steering wheel with a good range of motion and CVT equipped XVs get attractive shift paddles attached to the wheel, not the column.

Rear seats in the XV are firm and the seat bottom cushions are low to the floor which should be fine for children but can be tiresome for adults on long trips. Because of the XV’s mission as a mud-rut crawler and stream-forder, the door sills are high to prevent water intrusion meaning you have to lift your feet higher than you’d expect to gain entry. That combined with the sloping rear profile made me feel like I had to contort myself more to get in the XV than I had expected, and certainly more than vehicles like the RAV4 or CR-V.  Once inside, headroom proved excellent for my 6-foot frame and legroom was adequate even with a taller driver up front. If you have kids or regularly schlep folks in the rear, pony up for the Limited model, in addition to leather being easier to wipe-up than cloth, it’s the only way to get cup holders in the rear. If you don’t opt for the cow, you’ll be left with only the rear door “bottle holders” which should never be used for drive-thru style sodas.

The XV is only a few inches shorter than the Escape, CR-V or even its cousin the Forester, but the cargo area is considerably smaller thanks to the wagon profile. Our tester’s 22 cubic foot cargo area easily held a foursome’s weekend luggage as long as camping wasn’t on the agenda. While that’s a significant step up from most sedans that XV shoppers may be looking to trade out of, it’s two-thirds the cargo area provided by the Forseter or Escape. Why am I comparing these non-wagons to the XV? Because they are all a similar height and length. How is that possible you ask? Because the XV trades cargo space for ground clearance. Pick your poison.

Infotainment

Infotainment has long been an area where Subaru lags behind the competition and the XV is no different. Because the XV is positioned above the Impreza, things start with the optional audio system from the small Subie. The 6-speaker system features a single CD player, USB/iPod integration, Bluetooth phone integration with audio streaming and a 3.5mm AUX input jack. Limited trim XVs get Subaru’s display audio system with a 4.3-inch LCD touchscreen. The display upgrade also brings a backup camera, improved iPod/USB control, HD Radio and a greater suite of voice commands. For some reason this middle-ground head unit is not available at all on the base trim of the XV.

For $1,200 as a stand alone option on the XV Premium, and $2,000 as a bundle with the moonroof on the XV Limited model, Subaru offers an optional 6.1-inch touchscreen navigation unit. (The moonroof is a stand alone option on the Premium but only comes with the nav on the Limited.) Unless you’re buying the Premium model and want the sunroof, just save the $1,200 and spend it on an aftermarket system. While the unit isn’t as outdated as some systems on the market, the interface is strangely unintuitive, the on-screen buttons are small and the low-contrast color scheme makes it difficult to find what you’re after. On the bright side, perhaps because of Toyota’s minority investment in Subaru, the system uses the same voice command interface as Toyota and Lexus’ current product line including voice commands to control your media device.

Drivetrain

Subaru’s fascination with boxer engines and AWD is nothing new, but the 2.0L DOHC engine under the hood is. The smaller mill replaces the old 2.5L SOHC four-cylinder found in the last generation Impreza and Outback Sport.Power drops with the displacement reduction from 170 HP to 148 at 6,200 RPM while torque takes a similar tumble from 170 lb-ft to 145 at 4,200 RPM. The smaller mill isn’t any quieter or more refined than the older engine, but it is 28% more fuel-efficient when equipped with the same manual transmission and a whopping 36% more efficient when you compare the new 2.0L/CVT combo with the old 2.5L/four-speed automatic. EPA numbers for the XV come out to 23/30/26 (City/Highway/Combined) for the 5-speed manual and 25/33/28 for the CVT. On my mixed commute I averaged 29.4MPG over 475 miles of mixed driving, 0-60 testing and soft-road shenanigans.

The three-pedal XV makes the power reduction seem more obvious while the CVT’s infinite ratios help mask the loss in power more than you might think. While AWD is standard, the AWD system is different on manual and automatic models. The 5-speed is mated to a mechanical viscus center coupling that can neither be fully coupled or uncoupled allowing a torque split range from 80/20 to 20/80 (front/rear) and normally apportions power 50/50. The CVT uses an electronically controlled multi-plate clutch pack to apportion power 60/40 under normal circumstances with the ability to completely lock when wheels slip, or when the car’s computer feels like it.

Drive

Jack anything up three inches and handling will suffer, even an Impreza. Fortunately, the XV is unusually light at 3,164lbs. In a sea of overweight crossovers, this helps the XV feel more nimble than the usual suspects but it does taker a toll on ride quality with the XV feeling less “polished” than the Outback or the heavier small-CUV competition. On the downside, a light vehicle can sometimes feel cheap, and the XV’s noisy cabin doesn’t help. Being pragmatic, I would rather spend the money on a robust AWD system than sound insulation, but on long trips the noise can be tiresome. Despite the robust AWD system and boxer engine, the XV cuts a very tight rug with 34.8 foot turning radius, something important when you’re trekking off the beaten path.

In general journalists despise CVTs but this is a hatred I have never fully understood. On my daily commute I climb a 2,200ft mountain pass, a perfect demonstration of how CVTs make less powerful cars more drivable. Cars with a typical automatic suffer from the slow down, downshift, speed up, upshift, slow down, rinse, repeat problem on steep mountain passes while CVTs maintain a constant speed and vary the engine RPM as required. Yes, the 2.0L boxer engine is vibration free but unpleasant sounding and the CVT has an uncanny ability to keep the engine at the most annoying harmonic. Even so, if given the choice I would take the CVT over a 6-speed automatic on an engine this small. Bolt a turbo to the 2.0 and I’d want the 6-speed slushbox. Speaking of speeds, all CVT equipped models come with sexy shift paddles that attempt to mimic an automatic transmission but the shifts from one ratio to another feel mushy and slow.

Designed to carve unpaved corners on weekends and paved corners on weekdays you’ll find an inherent compromise in every corner. On true dirt roads, the street rubber (Yokohama Geolander H/T G95A) lacks lateral grip allowing the rear of the XV to feel a little light (in a fun sort of way) and on pavement the tall springs allow the body to roll more than a traditional wagon shopper might expect. Despite the lean, the XV never lost its composure even when pressed to 9/10ths, a place few owners will take their granola-hauler. The always-on nature of Subaru’s AWD system makes the XV feel more confidant off-road than the sip-and-grip systems found on the competition, but there is less of a difference on road. Back on the asphalt, most of the competitor’s systems allow partial lock-up from a standstill thanks to improved electronic systems and honestly the difference in snow performance for most driving conditions is going to be fairly small.

For some reason we expect SUVs and CUVs to deliver a less exciting driving dynamic but we expect wagons to handle like sedans with a tailgate. If that describes you, the XV will disappoint. If however you’re looking for the utility of a crossover with better road manners and a low center of gravity, the XV delivers in spades. There’s just one problem: Subaru’s new Forester is the same price and staring at you from across the Subaru dealer’s lot.

Hit it

• Subaru AWD reputation.
• Well priced and well equipped base model.
• I’ve always been a fan of CVTs for hill climbing.

Quit it

• Black wheels.
• The lack of gadgets, gizmos and options is a bummer for my inner nerd.
• The cabin is noisier than most small crossovers.
• Not everyone loves CVTs as much as I do.

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

Specifications as tested

0-30: 3.3 Seconds

0-60: 8.7 Seconds

1/4 Mile: 16.8 Seconds @ 81.5 MPH

Average Fuel Economy: 29.4 MPG over 475 miles

It’s double feature Sunday: Can TTAC’s Future Writers master the tough job of a car review? During Future Writers Week, you chose the writers you want to see again on TTAC. Here is today’s second Future Writer car review. Do you like it? Do tell.

Sometimes the demographic stereotypes for particular car buyers exist for a reason. Being a current legal student that first graduated from that big Colorado university in the People’s Republic of Boulder and will almost certainly become the basic “yuppie”, Subarus have held some appeal to me. The idea of a rugged, capable, different family sedan has piqued my interest for awhile; I nearly purchased a used Subaru several years back, settling on a Volvo when I decided that the comfortable box would be a far greater companion on cross-country drives than the quirky, boxer-engined Subie. However, much of the automotive industry has been on a course of bland convergence since the late-nineties production of both of those vehicles; for Volvos that has meant the demise of the canal-boat-esque 5 cylinder sans turbo found in my old S70, but what does it mean for the Subaru Legacy? Are my stereotypes of Subaru outdated, or should I join the ranks of ex-Boulderites who slowly toil around in a stick-shift Legacy? For better or worse, an impending snow storm in Vail appeared to put a wrench in my cheapo rental car plans for my head-clearing pre-law school semester trip, and Enterprise Rent-A-Car responded with a 7500-mile Subaru Legacy.

Exterior:

Subaru seems to have done something quite incredible with the new Legacy: they managed to make it very ugly but managed to keep it completely anonymous. The front end is simply too busy, with the bottom bumper from a Ford Focus and the ungainly headlights cribbed from a children’s nightmare.

The center grill seems to have tried to emulate the much-maligned grill from recent Acuras, but gave up before meeting the hood. The center box is more appealing, with the rather clean lines even possibly indicative of sporting pretensions, but is still rather forgettable, stemming from wheel arches that everyone and their mother puts on cars these days (I’m looking at you, E90 3-series). The rear end either isn’t noticeable from angles beyond 45 degrees, or looks like a bad adaptation of a rear clip from a copyright-friendly Grand Theft Auto vehicle. Either way, initial impressions were weak, with the Toyota Camry parked next to the Legacy in the rental lot being both better proportioned and more attractive in general; this would become a comparison that would ring with increasing volume in my ears throughout my four day Colorado journey, but more on that later.

Interior:

I remember getting into a 2012 Kia Sportage and thinking “wow, this is almost there”. Were previous Subarus as dreary inside as the Koreans used to be, I would have had a similar impression with the Legacy; unfortunately, the new car represents a considerable step back in interior build quality. The materials are at best equal to modern Kias, which still tend to be a bit worse than their competition. The Camry in comparison? Still mediocre for the class, but overall more solid and up-to-date than the Legacy. Late model Fords? If you have to ask, then you lack both sight and feel. At least the Legacy is fairly roomy, seeming larger inside than the Camry but if all one cares about is interior space, Chevrolet will be happy to sell you an Impala.

Driving Experience:

After an underwhelming impression on the rental car lot, I would like to say that the Subaru and I had a weekend of bonding, but saying that Pakistan has secure borders would be a more accurate statement. Let’s start with the positive: the Subaru has, despite fairly numb feel, quick steering. Turning into parking lots can be a bit of a laugh, as the quickness of turn-in can allow speeds that cause pedestrians to jump in fright. Exiting that parking lot, however, and the driver enters a world of problems. The power-train, for lack of a more descriptive term, is genuinely awful. The engine is surprisingly slow and hesitant to rev, but it is unlikely that you’ll notice due to how lackluster the CVT transmission is.

To be honest, I have a distinct hatred for CVTs; the unrelenting noise and unnatural feel alone would keep me from ever purchasing one new. I thought the CVT in the Toyota Prius was bad, but anyone who drives a Legacy will be in store for something on another level. The CVT attempts to simulate gears, but simply flat out fails in its mission. When accelerating to 35 from a stop one of two things will happen: either the car will sit at around 3000 rpm and then the revs will completely fall off as it finds another “gear”, and then you’ll start to slow down; or, the care will sit at 3000 rpm and then fail to find said theoretical gear, and then wind down with a noise so vile that the other passengers will begin to laugh.

Other faults? The wind noise is loud, the handbrake can only be disengaged while in drive, the AWD system is dodgy, the ride isn’t composed, and the MPG +/- gauge (which directly correlates to pedal travel, utterly useless) that replaces the coolant gauge becomes a minor disaster when the car begins to overheat (which it will on a spirited drive from Denver to Vail). Although I didn’t track MPG usage for my trip, as with my driving style it would be pointless, the vehicle indicated an overall 27 MPG, which is…acceptable. It is quite sad to say, but if one needs a roomy, AWD sedan, they would be much better served by the used Subaru I passed on years ago. After a long weekend, even I was surprised by the terribleness of the Legacy; to answer my original question of if I should join the ranks of the Boulder Subaru mafia with this entry, the answer is a resounding “no”.

Will Simonsick is a first year law student at Marquette University in Milwaukee, WI. Over the past five years, he has lived in Philadelphia, Boulder, and Brussels, Belgium, and will be spending the summer outside of Frankfurt, Germany. Family rumor has it that his first word was Chevy. He is currently living in automotive purgatory in a hand-me-down Toyota Prius second generation, remaining wistful for his previous Volvo and W-body Chevrolet.

I will hear this many times today.

In the many underpowered cars that I had driven up a hill, around a bend, or towards an intersection, a well-meaning friend, instructor, or authority figure in the seat next to me inevitably yelled: “Shift!!”  This was to entice me to stir the stick, and to keep me from killing the engine either outright or in a frenzied over-rev.

This time, it is different. I am in Japan, and I sit in Japan’s first kei-car, a Summer-of-Love generation 1968 Subaru 360. Next to me sits his owner, Chiharu Tamura, and he shouts “don’t shift!!”

Tamura bought this car 4 years ago, for 250,000 yen, which converts to $3,147. Helped by an obscenely high yen, this car is a residual value miracle. When the first 360s were exported to the U.S. in 1961, the price was $1,297. Despite the bargain basement price, the car flopped. It was one of the many disasters brought to us by Malcolm Bricklin, except that his Yugo sold much better – initially. If people would have bought this car instead of the wretched Yugo, they would have doubled their money today.

A Subaru 360 is a car you would not expect from a Chiharu Tamura.

Tamura-san is Deputy Chief Engineer of the Lexus LFA, the $375,000 supercar that shifts effortlessly in 200ms through each of its 6 gears.  The Subaru delivers 20 hp, the LFA at work has 560.

“This car got 66 mpg – in the sixties,” Tamura says. “The secret to high mileage is low weight.”

I need to be very careful with the gears, No-Shift-Tamura keeps telling me. The shift pattern is a simple H. Reverse and First on the left, 2^nd and 3^rd on the right, that’s it.

Turning into a scenic overlook on our tour, I want to shift into First. Immediately, I am confronted with a now familiar, but this time very forceful “DON’T SHIFT!!!!” This time, don’t shift at all.

First gear has no synchromesh, I am told.

“No problem!” I shout, “I know that from the old Bug!” I go out of gear and into Neutral, pop the clutch, tap the gas, “wrrmmm-brmmm,” and …

“NO SHIFT!!!!” Tamura whispers with a pained look and a hand on the shifter.

I learn that this Subie likes its unsychronized first gear engaged only from a dead stop. While driving, there is a choice of Second and Third, and only with an ichi – ni –san  three-second intermediate pause in Neutral. There is no, zettai iranai shifting from Second into First. Wakarimashita ka?

If Ray LaHood reads this, he will demand that little Subaru for every American – it definitely demands totally undistracted driving. And the transmission must be made from tofu.

This is Japan where they drive on the left and sit on the right. To the left of me on the transmission tunnel are three levers with letters.

The C is the choke. Remember what a choke is for, and your will date yourself. This lever C aids the start of the little 2-cycle engine. When it’s  cold, you slowly feed it back into position while the engine warms up, and you do that with an ear on the engine. When the weather is balmy, as it is now, I simply move the choke back after it has done its job.

The H lever turns the heat on. The engine is air-cooled, and the heat works similarly as that in the VW Bug.

One exception: The heat adjustment is under my seat, somewhere. Did I mention that this car needs your undivided attention?

The F lever  cuts the fuel off. The Subie has no gasoline pump, the fuel is gravity-fed. If you let the car sit with the line open, you end up with a flooded carburetor, or possibly a puddle under the car. To avoid this, pull the effing F lever.

Tamura’s Subaru was a high-grade trim: It had a radio. Car reviewers who love to bitch about the “seas of hard plastic” will have no gripes with this car: The top of the mostly metal dash is covered in a minor pond of vinyl. A little Armor All®, and the naugahyde will stay soft and supple.The GPS is a recent addition.

This is the dreaded shaken sticker, next inspection by May 2013 – living proof that even a car that is 44 years old can pass –  as long as the owner is the engineer of a supercar. This car passed without seatbelts. It didn’t have any when new, it won’t have any when old.

Entering the car through its suicide doors requires the abilities of a contortion artist for a man of my heft.

As we change positions, skinny Tamura slides in effortlessly. Tamura is from a generation where men were men and women were women.

“This car is fine for two Japanese men in front and their women in the back,” Tamura says, and his shift hand bangs into the wallet in my pants.

Tamura drives the Subie only on weekends, I hear.

“So, what do you drive to work, Tamura-san?”

“My bicycle.”

If you can build the world’s most powerful car, you won’t need to buy one anymore, I guess.

Its squat boxer architecture meant a low centre of gravity, and by building in a low rate of roll and very little offset or castor in the MacPherson strut front suspension, the handling was truly revelatory, refreshingly neutral with precise steering…endlessly chuckable. [They]…were willing rather than fast, and there was more grip than the boxer engine…could ever hope to exploit…away from straight roads it still took a genuinely quick car to catch one.

Does this sound like a review of the 2012 Subaru Impreza? You may be surprised to read that the words here describe a car from a completely different country, with a culture and ethos that couldn’t be more different – but a car that may be the spiritual predecessor to the Impreza.

That quote, despite being hacked up to remove identifying details, is from Evo magazine’s retrospective on the Alfa Romeo Alfasud. The Alfasud was a scrappy little hatchback, powered by a fairly impotent boxer engine that was regarded as a supremely fun car with somewhat spotty build quality. Sound familiar?

Unlike the high-end, leather-clad sedan driven by Michael, my tester was a 5-speed hatch and the cabin was decidedly barebones. Black fabric covered the seats and the dash was also adorned in a dark, dour plastic. Subaru interiors have never been spectacular, but this car took it to new levels – while looking for the hood release, I managed to grab a handful of loose dashboard plastic that had a few inches of play to wiggle around. Unfortunately, my camera’s memory card corrupted, but Brendan’s preview drive has pictures of the exact same interior (minus the errant dash trim pieces, hopefully). The Impreza’s seats were too flat and firm for my liking, but the driving position itself is refreshingly old school. You can actually see that the hood exists, and you sit lower than most pseudo-CUV compacts these days.

Subaru decided to trim some weight out of the car in an effort to improve fuel economy (apparently they cut nearly 200 lbs from the car, which makes me wonder how it got so bloated in the first place), but the trade-off is less power compared to the outgoing model. The 2.0L boxer now puts out 148 horsepower and 145 lb-ft, and this tester came with the 5-speed manual gearbox, a rubbery, notchy unit that continues the Subaru tradition of building rubbery, notchy-feeling transmissions.

Any fears that this car would be a watered-down, slowpoke, mass market version of the old Impreza are immediately put to bed once the road opens up and John Law is absent from your rearview mirror. The steering is well-weighted, though hardly a paragon of feel or feedback. But the growl of the boxer is intoxicating, and the chassis communicates so well, it was probably tuned by a marriage counselor. Hit an on ramp in third gear and let the boxer get to its sweet spot around 4,000 RPM and the Impreza is absolutely tenacious, with endless grip allowing it to slingshot out of the corners. Oddly,the brake override system mentioned by Brendan didn’t make itself known during heel-toe downshifts, with chunky winter boots being the biggest obstacle. In a straight line, it’s no speed demon, but let the boxer wind up for just a second and the power is more than adequate for passing trucks or merging on to freeways.Compared to the Mazda3 SkyActiv or the Ford Focus, the boxer feels more robust, but only instrumented testing will determine that conclusively. All that driving yielded 24 mpg in mixed driving – poorer than Michael’s CVT equipped sedan got, but understandable given the chunky Bridgestone Blizzaks (10 percent poorer fuel economy right off the bat), the cold temperatures and the, ahem, spirited driving that the Impreza encourages.

Around town, the main drawback is the firm, unsettled ride. Even though Toronto’s roads are a tough test for any car, the Focus and Cruze feel much more composed than the Scoob, perhaps a trade-off made in the name of driving dynamics. The stereo system could also use a major overhaul, frequently sounding tinny and washed out. The hatchback bodystyle and compact footprint make it great for darting in and out of traffic, and rear seat room is fine for four average sized adults. The Impreza would be a very easy car to live with every day, but then, what current compact isn’t?

Canadian trim levels differ slightly, with the American equivalent of this car being the $20,295 (plus $750 destination) Impreza Sport Premium 5-door with the 5-speed manual. In Canada, the 5-door Sport costs $24,795 plus $1,695 for “Freight and Pre-Delivery Inspection” (our version of freight). So, $26,490 PLUS another $3,443.70 in sales taxes. Nevertheless, Subarus have a loyal following across the country. Independent analyst Timothy Cain’s sales figures for Canada shows that Impreza sales, year over year, are up a fair amount. People here are willing to pay for all-wheel drive, in a hatchback body style, and with Subaru dealers setting up shop in far-flung rural areas a few hundred kilometers away from major urban centers, the brand has established a foothold in snow-ridden areas similar to their strategy in New England. The faithful won’t be disappointed by these new revisions, but other consumers will have to ask themselves whether the higher cost of entry and reduced levels of refinement are worth it to get all-wheel drive, superb handling and the unique character not available anywhere else.

Some cars appeal to the head. Others to the heart. Judging from the marketing pitches that festooned the corporate-owned, dealer-supplied 2012 Impreza, Subaru hopes the redesigned compact will appeal to both. On the rear bumper: “The most fuel efficient All-Wheel Drive car in America at 36 MPG.” And on each front door: “Experience love that lasts.”* Will the Impreza truly “love you long time”? We went on a date to find out.

The Impreza certainly isn’t a one-night-stand sort of car, especially not when dressed in virginal white. You’re not going to lock eyes across a crowded parking lot, because you’re not going to notice it in a crowded parking lot. There’s no risk of hot-blooded lust, doomed to burn quickly but briefly. Like those of the larger Legacy it resembles, the new Impreza’s lines could have been penned by engineers. Elements that attempt to inject some character, most notably the ultra-wide bi-centric wheel arches, instead come off as clunky.

The new Impreza’s interior styling is similarly conservative to a fault. The curves that bounded across the previous Impreza’s instrument panel? Gone. Some of the materials might be a step up from the previous generation, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at them. Compared to a Ford Focus or even a Hyundai Elantra, my eyes see an appliance, and a dated one at that. Any chance the Limited’s leather seats had of suggesting luxury is obliterated by the dollar store center console and lower door panels that flank them. The black interior that attends four exterior colors, including a lusty red, should help. Beige (mandatory with the other four colors) rarely does an affordably priced car any favors.

Yet, if functionality was the predominant priority, why are the rocker switches for the heated seats located beneath your elbow? A mere afterthought, or did some human factors engineer thinking a bit far outside the box decide that this would make for one-stop-shopping when buckling up? Latch the belt and turn on the seat heater, all in one quick motion! Warm the buns of your partner while you’re at it!

Like VW, Subaru has figured out that a roomy rear seat sells cars. The new Impreza remains about the same size as the old one on the outside, yet there are a couple more inches of rear leg room on the inside. A 2005-2009 Legacy was a tighter fit. Just don’t expect adult passengers to feel much love from the rear seat on long trips: like many, its cushion is mounted too low.

So, after sampling the charms of the exterior and interior, love hasn’t bitten. Perhaps it’s the driving experience? The car’s priorities aren’t promising, as the list appears to have been headed by fuel economy, rarely a Subaru strong suit in the past. To this end, curb weight has been reduced nearly two hundred pounds, to under 3,000. Doesn’t seem light for a compact sedan? Recall that a couple hundred pounds of symmetrical all-wheel-drive goodness is standard in all Subarus…for a few more months. With less weight to motivate, fewer cc’s are required. Last year’s 170-horsepower SOHC 2.5-liter flat four-cylinder engine has been replaced by an all-new DOHC 148-horsepower 2.0-liter boxer. A five-speed manual remains standard, but those who aren’t turned on by a third pedal now get a CVT instead of an antiquated four-speed automatic. The CVT’s wider ratio spread and ability to keep the engine in its sweet spot make for decent acceleration. It’s not quick, but it’s not slow, either. A larger concern: the engine is loud, and its buzz resembles that of a garden variety inline four rather than the oddly appealing burble of a boxer. Your ears won’t find this engine’s sweet spot very sweet. The rubber band effect typical of CVTs is present, but can be avoided by employing the paddles to shift among six fixed ratios. The touted fuel economy: EPA numbers of 27 city and 36 highway, way up from the 2011’s 20/27. The trip computer reported high 20s when I cruised through suburbia with a light foot, low 20s when I got jiggy with it.

Just when all chances of love seem lost, there’s the chassis. The steering provides only modest feedback, but the seat makes up for it. The chassis tells you what it will do for you, and then does it with commendable balance, poise, and agility—that low curb weight paying some clear dividends. The all-wheel-drive system might also deserve some credit, though it’s not being called upon to manage much torque. The Imprezza’s intuitive handling makes it very easy to drive quickly and confidently along a curvy road. I enjoyed driving it far more than its specs and appearance led me to expect.

The flip side of the low weight and communicative chassis: a noisy, at times jiggly ride. Like VW and Toyota, Subaru has placed a bet opposite that of Chevrolet, Ford, and Dodge. If you’re seeking a premium feel in a $20,000 car, look elsewhere.

A base 2.0i with the manual transmission starts at $18,245. The 2.0i Limited with its mandatory CVT: $22,345. If you don’t want all-wheel-drive in your compact sedan, you’ll likely buy a different one. If you do, you have a choice between the Impreza and a slightly larger (but no roomier) Suzuki Kizashi. With a quarter-ton more curb weight to enfeeble a 180-horsepower, 2.4-liter engine, the Suzuki’s no quicker but manages only 23 / 30 in the EPA’s tests. In SE trim with leather, it lists for $26,014. Adjusting for the Kizashi’s additional amenities using TrueDelta’s car price comparison tool reduces the gap by $900, but even then there’s a nearly $2,500 difference. While one of the buff books fell in love with the Kizashi in a few days (as touted on Suzuki’s home page), car buyers still haven’t after a few years. There’s likely to be serious cash on that hood—if you can find a dealer with a pulse. Actual transaction prices won’t be so far apart.

[Update: A reader informs us that Mitsubishi recently started offering a non-turbo Lancer with AWD. At $20,990, the 168-horse, 22/29 MPG Lancer SE is priced VERY close to a similarly-equipped Impreza (Premium 2.0i, $21,045 with All-Weather Package). But you're more likely to find rebates and discounts on the Mitsubishi--if you can find a Mitsubishi dealer.]

So the Subaru wins the battle for the head. But the numbers aren’t everything. What about love? Both the Impreza and Kizashi claim to offer it. If you’re turned on by style and refinement, then you’re much more likely to find love in the Suzuki. The way the new Subaru looks, sounds, and feels recalls old style “penalty box” small cars just a bit too much. But if you’re seeking a chassis that talks to you, and that’s a willing dance partner, then the Impreza delivers. A quiet love, perhaps, but they did promise it in small lettering.

*Before you run out and similarly adorn your ride, be warned that Subaru has likely trademarked the phrase for automotive applications.

Dwyer Subaru in West Bloomfield, MI, provided the car. They can be reached at (248) 624-0400.

Michael Karesh operates TrueDelta.com, an online provider of car reliability and real-world fuel economy information.

Then again, it’s also perfect weather for testing out a new Subaru.

I’m an early arrival to this event, having popped downtown on public transit past the expected snarls of traffic, and so walk into a nearly empty press room. The usual assortment of items is laid out on the table (if I ever decide to open a lanyard n’ thumb-drive emporium, I’ve got at least a year’s worth of stock) along with a Subaru-branded toque.

A toque. How appropriate.

And how telling. During the power-point presentation, we’re shown a picture of a enormous Subaru badge mostly obscuring a silver previous-gen Impreza sedan. Besides the relief of not having to look at the carved-from-a-bar-of-Lever-2000 shape of last year’s Subie, there’s a message here.

The PR folks explain: Subaru is a brand with strong associations. Mention it and the image immediately springs to mind of a Forester with two kayaks strapped to the roof and interior perfume by wet golden retriever. Either that, or some mud-caked, flared-out STi, flinging quad-roostertails of gravel as it pop-pop-pops through the sharp turns of a forest stage, sandblasting the spots off Bambi and giving Thumper tinnitus.

Impreza? Oh, that’s the cheapest one they make. It’s sturdy, and utilitarian, and about as sexy as a tarp. It’s not particularly efficient or stylish, but those are the penalties you pay if want a small, all-wheel-drive car.

Not any more, so sayeth the Subaru sages. It’s time for the WRX/STi line to get a divorce from the Impreza, freeing the smallest Subie to be lightened and dialled in for normally-aspirated fuel economy. What’s more, it’s also time to shift design – and perception – away from “rugged” to “urban”, and by doing so, hopefully onto more small-car buyer’s shopping lists.

From a styling perspective, the Impreza is already a triumph. Discounting the rally special WRXs – box flares and hoodscoops can be a kind of stylistic panacea – there’ve been about four good-looking Subarus ever: this new Impreza is one of them.

Side-by-side with the old model, the sharp, angular lines of the Impreza go beyond “a breath of fresh air.” Front headlights have a touch of Dragonball-Z anime about them, and the Impreza wears the new corporate creases much better than the slab-sided Legacy. The multi-spoke 17” wheels of this Sport package look great, but are sure to be a huge pain in the ass to clean.

Other than that, few of the styling improvements seem to have generated compromises. Just look at the comparative size of the greenhouses in both cars. While the larger, highly-raked windshield is immediately apparent, you can also see that the belt-line’s come down somewhat, improving visibility. The big fix at the rear is, of course, getting rid of those ghastly clear tail-lights – and dig that rear spoiler – but blindspots haven’t really increased.

Inside, the cabin’s also much better. It’s a conservative layout, but quite pleasant, and the amount of soft-touch plastic has quintupled. I particularly liked the boiled-sweet appearance of the park-anywhere button and the chunky dials on the HVAC controls seem designed for easy use by gloved hands. Seats are comfier too, if perhaps not overly bolstered.

Of course, there’s still plenty of room for interior improvement – this is a Subaru after all. The tiny switchgear for the heated seats is crammed just aft of the emergency brake and tricky to use. The stereo is the old double-DIN setup, and while there’s iPod connectivity, it’s not exactly powerful – I didn’t have a chance to try out the Pioneer audio upgrade. The Multi-Function display with the AWD use read-out (put me in mind of the old XT6) is a bit of fun, but it doesn’t display iPod functions.

Cargo-wise, the hatchback takes top bill-of-lading, with seats folding mostly-flat and transforming your Impreza into a gravel-ready moving van. Better yet, both sedan and 5-door have increased rear leg room from the mildly stretched wheel-base, and the rear door openings are also larger. Fans of wind-noise-inducing frameless windows will probably want to buy a CD of didgeridoo music or something.

Anyone who’s ever tried to cram a rear-facing child-seat in the back of an older Impreza will doubtless appreciate the bigger rear portals, as well as the increased boot-space in both the sedan and hatchback variants. Subaru showed a display featuring three golfbags fitting upright in the back; fair enough, but they more usefully could have provided us with one of those enormous running strollers that are like a sand rail with handlebars. However, a quick eyeball test indicates such monstrosities should fit.

Of the dozen vehicles available for testing, only one had a manual transmission. In the interests of research and science, I Occupied it – everyone else was clustered around for show and tell on the display model.

Here’s what you need to know about the new Impreza in terms of performance: the new, long-stroke, timing-chain-driven 2.0L boxer engine has less power than the old 2.5 lump (down from 170hp to 148hp), but the new chassis is slightly stronger and lighter (by 165lbs). It is also slower than the outgoing model – at least in a straight-line.

Subaru makes a big deal about the CVT-equipped car being actually slightly quicker to 60mph than the automatic-equipped ’11, but let’s face it, the antediluvian 4EAT 4-speed wasn’t doing the previous-gen any accelerative favours. I think that thing was originally developed for use in Hannibal’s Alp-crossing four-wheel-drive elephants.

With the 5-speed manual – tweaked for fuel economy with a taller top gear – you notice the decreased low-end power immediately. Is it a problem? Not really.

It took a little time to get out of the city and onto the leaf-littered and sodden streets that run through the far Western part of West Vancouver. These are narrow little capilliaries, twisting and turning up and down the hilly coastline, looking like somebody spilled vermicelli on the map.

The Mazda3 is the current benchmark for fun-to-drive in the compact segment, right? Well, with this new Impreza, that should hold true right up until it rains.

On these wet and winding roads, this little car is an absolute gem. The steering is heavy and direct. The grip from the all-wheel-drive is phenomenal. New, fatter anti-roll bars do their job, and while I can’t claim to feel the extra bite of having disc brakes at all four corners now, the Impreza stops just fine.

Torque is a bit low, but it’s not a bother to continually shift gears to keep things on the boil. This is essentially the same transmission as the old Impreza, but it has a decent shifter feel. Cost may be an issue here, but a 6-speed with closer ratios would be better, given the very moderate power. Also, heel-and-toers take note: you can rev-match your downshifts, but a new brake-override system is going to trip up fancy footwork.

The little 2.0L lacks the lumpy character of the 2.5L, but it’s got a gruff little growl to remind you it’s a boxer, and as such, it’s fun to wring it out a little. Having said that, you will find yourself wishing for more power, but it’s only because the Impreza is so well-composed: it sticks and sticks and sticks and then very slightly washes wide.

Stepping out of the stick-shift and into a CVT-equipped Impreza, things get a little less sporting, but remain good overall. A continuously terrible transmission is never going to be the enthusiast’s choice, but banish all thoughts of the hair-scrunchie-driveline Justy from your head: Subaru’s Lineartronic CVT is actually quite good.

As there isn’t much twist below 4k from the 2.0L boxer engine (145lb/ft at 4200rpm), ascending one of the local mountains in the CVT-equipped car meant that four thousand revs was where we were hanging out. However, during stop-and-go driving, the CVT was smooth and well-behaved, and the paddle-shifters were actually a bit of fun. Not that it’s an objective term, but the car felt less “motorboaty” than the CVT-equipped ’12 Maxima I drove right afterwards.

The real story in the CVT-equipped car was not so much the transmission, which proved perfectly acceptable, but the way it handled the slushy snow we ran into. If Subaru’s 27/36mpg fuel economy figure takes the disadvantage out of AWD, then here’s the advantage: this is still a car that’s happiest when the weather gets poor.

“You’re going too fast for the conditions,” my co-driver admonished me. I backed off, somewhat abashed, but when time came to swap seats, I happened to sneak a peak at the speedo as she ran through the same section downhill – going even faster. PSA: AWD ain’t gonna help you stop with all-seasons, so slow down and use your road-sense, but the lighter, less-powerful Impreza still handles the white stuff like a tank. Make that a Sno-Cat.

Overall, splitting the WRX from the Impreza is a smart move for Subaru. I’d wager there’s not much buyer spillover from the halo effect of the turbo-nutter models anymore: if you can’t swing the payments on a new WRX, you don’t move down to a base-engined Impreza, you start shopping for a used WRX.

And, unlike the whoopsie-daisy 2008 WRX that missed the mainstream mark somewhat, Subaru has managed to add a touch of broad appeal to their small car, while still keeping it alluring to those with the stars of Pleiades in their eyes. In fact, I’m fairly sure one of the local Impreza club members is going to buy one to replace his TSD-rally-scarred ’07 Impreza sedan (he’s got a kid now).

The Subaru faithful will descend on dealerships with their clipboards and check-lists and comparison data, but they’ll inevitably like this little car, and they’ll buy it. More importantly, folks who were looking at a Mazda3, Civic or Focus might find the Impreza showing up on their radar, and if they drive it, they’ll be surprised at how agricultural it’s not.

As for myself, WRX divorce or not, there’s got to be a way to cram a EJ257 in this thing. Hello, Nordstrom? I’m going to need your largest shoe-horn…

Subaru provided the Vehicles tested, insurance, gasoline, some nice sandwiches, and the aforementioned toque which was bloody useful for the cold slog home.

Let’s face it, Subarus used to be strange. When I was a kid, Subaru was in the same category as Volvo, Saab, Sterling and anything from France. Once upon a time, when friends rode in your Subie they were intrigued by its quirks and idiosyncrasies. As time moved on though, everything has become increasingly mainstream. Well, except for the French. To prove the point we hit Subaru up for a 2011 Legacy 3.6 Limited.

When the Legacy arrived on my doorstep, I had trouble picking it out from all the other cars on the street. The usual Subaru styling cues are gone and in their place we have some sexy curves, some hard lines, fender bulges and a subdued grille. Sounds good so far, right? Here’s the problem: the exact same description can be applied to the 2011 Camry and Accord. A week after our Subaru tester returned from whence it came, Subaru started a viral marketing campaign for the Legacy called “2011 Mediocrity” on Facebook and YouTube. The campaign is supposed to be lampooning the Camry, Accord and Fusion, but in the end it becomes one of the most ironic commercials ever made. Why? Because the 2011 Legacy is by far the most mainstream vehicle Subaru has ever produced. Let’s dive in and see just how average the  Subaru can be.

Subaru offers the Legacy in three trim levels: base, Premium and Limited, all of which can be had with two engine options, the 2.5L four-cylinder boxer engine, and the 3.6L six-cylinder boxer provided for our review (there’s also the special 2.5L turbo GT trim for upsizing WRX drivers). The 2.5L four packs 170HP while the 3.6L model provided for our review brings 256HP and 247lb-ft of twist to the party (up from the 245HP and 215lb-ft of last year’s 3.0L six). Compared to the competition these power figures are adequate in a middle-of-the-pack kind of way. While the 2.5L four gets an economy-maximizing CVT, the 3.6L engine has to make do with a 5 speed slush-box which is one cog shy of most of the competition. All boxes  checked thus far.

Once inside the Legacy, it is clear this car’s interior was designed to be profitable at the rental car fleet pricing level. Gone are the soft touch plastics previous generations enjoyed and in their place are plastics that look good but feel cheap. Also from the bargain price bin is some of the worst faux wood this side of Chrysler’s K cars. Seriously Subie, who’d you think you were fauxin? Rounding out the mixed bag interior is quite possibly the best almost-metal trim I have seen. Not only does the faux metal fool you, but it seduces you into caressing it on the steering wheel and centre console, yielding satisfying tactile feedback. It’s a pity Subaru didn’t use the same material in the place of the never-seen-a-forest fake wood.

Proving that Subaru knows how to make a vehicle for the average Joe, the fit and finish of the interior is on par with what I expect from GM: haphazard. Adding insult to haptic injury is the feature list of the lesser Legacys (Legacies?). In a world where even Kias come standard with Bluetooth, Subaru makes you either step up to the Limited trim-line or cough up $2290 for the up-level audio package in Premium trim to get the speakerphone. Oddly, Bluetooth isn’t even offered in base models and the same goes for iPod/USB connectivity.

I’d like to say that everything brightens when you turn the Legacy’s key and get out on the highway, but I’d be lying. Gone are the semi-athletic adjectives you could use to describe Subarus of yore. Ten years ago, AWD was an intriguing novelty in a mass-market sedan. Today, an AWD sedan faces more competition and offers less “aint-it-cool” power. For the average person driving the average mid-size sedan, the AWD system of choice really doesn’t matter either. Yes the Symmetrical AWD system Subaru uses is without a doubt superior in terms of feel and function to the Haldex sip-and-grip systems Ford uses, but does Joe-six-pack care? Probably not.

Out on the road the feelings of average continue. Steering feel is slightly numb, road feel is isolated, acceleration to 60 happens in 7 seconds flat and the car stops like your average family hauler. I had hoped for a bit more driving wasabi, but all I ended up getting was vanilla pudding. And the end of the day, the 2011 Legacy drives just like I would expect an AWD Camry to drive, which makes sense because passengers frequently confused the Subaru for a Camry. The only thing unusual about the Legacy these days beats under the hood: the horizontally opposed engines ala Porsche. Sadly when it comes to weight distribution, handling, performance, smoothness, etc. the engine layout no longer provides much benefit compared to the competition. The proof is in that vanilla pudding: in the twisties, the AWD Fusion feels much more planted; much more in-tune with the road than this new Legacy. Sure the Legacy is bigger, but stacked up against the much heavier AWD Ford Taurus, the Legacy still feels heavy and soft despite gaining only 50lbs over the 2009 Legacy.

The 3.6L Legacy’s brother the 2.5 GT is the very proof that Subaru is shooting for the mainstream. The 2.5 GT not only feels better on the road, but with a 0-60 time of 5.6 seconds, it’s significantly quicker as well. Sadly Subaru thought Americans wanted more cylinders instead of more power so the 2.5GT remains a niche model available only with a 6 speed manual transmission. You’d think that the 3.6L would be smoother than the 2.5L turbo 4, but you’d be wrong. You’d think it would sound better, but you’d be wrong again. You’d pray that it would get better fuel economy, but you’d be left wanting.

At $30,015 as equipped, the Subaru Legacy proves that Subaru is capable of giving the American public exactly what they were asking for: a Camry with AWD. You can’t go wrong with putting a Legacy in your garage, especially if you live in the snow-belt, just don’t expect to feel too special behind the wheel. Subaru’s legacy is a company that made quirky vehicles that handled well and stuck out in a crowd, their future appears to be higher sales figures, more profit and mainstream America suited products. How average is that?

Readers who are following TTAC on Facebook were given the opportunity to ask reader questions of the Subaru Legacy. If you would like to ask questions of car reviews in progress, or just follow TTAC, checkout our facebook page. FB fans, here are your answers: Samir S: yes, thankfully it comes in other colors. Dan V: I feel your pain; it’s all about mass-market appeal. Marlon H: Probably not. Brian C: The auto doesn’t hunt as much as it used to. Patrick C: I thought about trying but honestly got too bored. Megan B: I’m sure you know the answer to your first question, second question is yes you can put a rearward facing child seat in the back with a normal-sized human in front. Bill H: Catching air is against the press car loan agreement, sorry.

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

Back in the late ‘90s, Hollywood unleashed a barrage of light-hearted, cookie-cutter teen movies. The gist: quasi-geek exists just outside the fringe of the high school “in crowd.” He’s intrinsically smart, casually cool, but socially a bit awkward. He’s followed by legions of adoring and affable nerds, cast in the shadows of the popular conformists.  Inevitably, our geek has his eyes on the prettiest girl in school and a thirst for leaping the social chasm to popularity. Predictably, this is accomplished through a bit of dumb luck, by selling his soul through transformational makeover, and by alienating those who supported him. Allow me to introduce the latest geek-turned-sellout: the 2010 Subaru Outback.

Not to go off on too Faragonian of a branding rant, contrary to the latest “It’s what makes a Subaru a Subaru” campaign, “it” is nowhere present in the new Subaru Outback. Yes, the usual hardware bits are there. Boxer engine? Check. Symmetrical All-Wheel-Drive? Check. But past these binary, objective metrics, the essence of a true Subaru is woefully absent, starting with the styling . . .

I’ll forgive the new Outback’s wacky headlights, weird taillights, and gimmicky body cladding. Let’s face it: the refreshing cleanliness of the last generation Legacy/Outback’s styling was too good to last. But I can’t the turn a blind eye to the Outback’s thyroid condition that balloons the Outback out of the clever off-road-wagon segment it created, square into the congested crowd of bloated CUVs.

Towering more than four inches higher than its predecessor, spanning two inches more across the beam, standing another awkward inch higher off its tires, the new Outback looks—no, is huge. The super-chunk roof rails are grossly exaggerated (until you discover the trick design that allows the crossbars to disconnect and swing 90 degrees to find residence integrated in the longitudinal rails). The rear quarter view screams “Venza!”—which is like shouting “movie” in a crowded firehouse. Curiously, there wasn’t a Tribeca on the showroom floor. Cannibalism avoidance? Either that or the former “flying vagina” was hidden by the swollen Outback.

Inside, hoping—praying—for refuge from the calamity outside, you’re greeted by wide, comfy seats and increased legroom for all five passengers, thanks to a stretched wheelbase and the aforementioned middle aged spread. Despite the front captain’s chairs’ higher hip point, rear toe-room is just as miserable as the old model’s. The 60/40 split rear seatbacks now recline, but the pivot point is too high; occupants feel awkwardly contorted instead of comfortably relaxed.

Oddly, the Outback is two inches shorter than previously, sacrificed in the cargo bay. Fortunately, the height gain and the taller hatch opening collaborate with revised rear suspension packaging (now multi-link instead of a strut) to allow more junk in your trunk.

The Outback helped start the trend toward big/multiple/panorama sunroofs, yet the 2010 model reverts to a classic-sized hole over the front seats only. Probably for the better, as you don’t need more light cast upon the smorgasbord of plastics that muddle the instrument panel.

Gone is the understated and subtle classiness of the previous Outbagacy’s upscale interior bits. Cheezy glitz defines the rock-hard polymers that mimic textured stainless steel on the gaudy and protruding tall center stack (an annoyingly awful new Subaru family trait) and [faux] aluminum on the trim wings spraying out to the doors. Subaru grained and sheened the top shelf of the instrument panel convincingly enough to make you think it’s from Ingolstadt. Nein.

The Outback’s ergonomics couldn’t be further from Audi’s if they were designed by Daewoo. Every button on the Outback’s dash now requires reading glasses, a precise finger and a map. Twin Big Gulps and a swollen armrest bin take precedence over the handbrake, which has been demoted to a tiny button buried left of the steering column amidst a myriad of other tiny, illegible, and obstructed switches for stability control, external mirrors, trunk release, and a bunch of curious blanks. To compensate, the twin steering column stalks are chunkier. Thanks. So much.

My tester was a 2.5i Premium CVT, equipped with Subaru’s standard and most popular engine. Subie’s [allegedly] massaged the 2.5-liter Boxer-4 for improved economy and driveability, but with no marked increase in dyno performance (170 hp/170 ft-lbs). It doesn’t matter. Subaru’s latest gee-wizardry is my good grief: the “Lineartronic” chain-driven CVT.

Rather than expound on what it’s supposed to do, let me tell you what the powertrain really does. It tips in painfully slow off idle, winds in a thrashy tizz up to max horsepower at 5600 rpm and festers there. If there were anything resembling an exhaust note, it might remind you there’s a Boxer under the hood; gone is the traditional Subie burble. Instead, from the minute you start rolling, you’re annoyed by a constant cosmic din of CVT chain noise that the Ford Freestyle’s CVT never had on its worst day, even as an early prototype.

Meanwhile, you’re waiting for acceleration to happen. Wait long enough and you’ll get to sixty miles per hour—even if you can’t quite remember quite how it happened until the morning after. You can slap the squat shift lever into manu-matic mode and flop through simulated gearshifts as if were a really crappy traditional automatic transmission. Appeasing to the lab coats at the EPA, this powertrain combo somehow manages to muster 29 mpg under optimal highway conditions. Color me indifferent; claimed driveability is an epic fail.

Wagonistas of Subaru faith seeking dynamic chassis goodness were exiled when the Legacy Wagon died in ’08. The previous Outback was not exactly light on its feet. While the ground clearance is a boon to adventurers, it’s a bane to roadgoers as exaggerated primary dance moves (roll, dive, and squat) make hustling corners ill-advised. The 2010 is no different.

The Outback’s steering gets a welcomed hydraulic boost at parking lot speeds. But as soon as the sunburst-backlit speedometer needle goes north of ten, the helm goes novicane numb and becomes lethargically slow. Wafting down the boulevard, the ride—especially from the rear axle—has gone all jiggly (in addition to the preexisting harshness). “Plush” does not seem to be a word in the Subaru vernacular. That’s a shame, as they’ve deprived this car of anything resembling fun.

Let’s do the math.

Subaru’s once trademark all-wheel-drive is a “so what” in the market segment the Outback now occupies. The virtues of the Boxer engine are all but diminished to irrelevance by the entire vehicle’s lousy dynamic performance. All of which leaves the 2010 Outback nothing more than an awkwardly bloated carcass of a what used to be an interesting car. But then there’s the other calculation . . .

Pandering to the least common consumer denominator by creating yet another lifeless, overgrown, misguided fashion-trend of a rolling appliance (read: CUV) will guarantee Subaru’s continued sales trajectory. It’s a winning model perfected by its new step-parent Toyota, which makes this revelation of suck all-the-less surprising.

At the end of the stereotypical teen movie, the geek-turned-stud usually recognizes the collateral damages of his foolish ways, and returns with renewed self-confidence, truer to himself, ultimately a better person for it. However, punch-drunk on the elixir of newfound sales popularity, it’s unlikely Subaru will look back—save to fly the bird to its wide-eyed, once-loyal nerds.

Last year, Toyota bought 16 percent of Fuji Heavy Industries, Subaru’s parent company. Those who care about such things immediately began speculating about Subaru’s influence on Toyota. Rumors of all kinds of wonderful sporting Toyobarus emerged, from a replacement for the Scion tC to a resurrected rear wheel-drive Celica using just the rear half of the Subie AWD drivetrain. The highly-anticipated (in some quarters) cross-pollination is well underway. Unfortunately, the result turns pistonheads’ dreams into a nightmare. With the arrival of the Impreza 2.5GT, the Toyotization of Subaru has begun.

Outside, it’s the Impreza we all know and love (or hate). The kyphotic mouse profile has been around long enough that children no longer stare and point as you drive by. The 2.5GT is differentiated visually from lesser Imprezas by handsome 10-spoke alloy wheels and the gaping (functional) hood scoop from the WRX feeding the intercooler. Our pre-production tester’s Newport Blue Pearl paint set it off nicely from the usual silver/gray/beige/white blandness of most small cars, and garnered several positive comments in parking lot conversations.

Inside, though, it’s a Goth’s paradise. Everything is black save the headliner and a bit of faux aluminum trim scattered around. When I say black, I mean deep black. Suck-the-very-light-out-of-the-sky black. Take-it-or-leave-it Carbon Black (yes, that’s what Subaru calls it). The seats are covered with sturdy-feeling fabric that wouldn’t look out of place in a taxi.

The headliner looks and feels like the mouse fur that GM is finally exorcising from their cars, and the carpet’s pile is as plush as the felt on a pool table. The simulated rhinoceros hide covering the dashboard and doors doesn’t do anything to help alleviate the sensation that you had to sacrifice something to get the goodness under the hood. At least the part you touch the most, the steering wheel, is wrapped with leather.

The GT uses last-year’s WRX engine. It churns out 224 turbocharged intercooled horsepower and 226 ft·lb of torque on premium fuel—enough to propel the five-door’s 3,240 lbs to 60 mph in just under 7 seconds. Once the turbo spools up, the power seems endless. The sprint from 80-100 is just as effortless as from 40-60. The GT’s engine always seems willing to do more than you ask, but, alas, it’s held back by the four-speed automatic transmission.

Normally, this is where I’d say something about how much better the car would be with the manual transmission. Unfortunately, the 2.5GT isn’t available with one. Yes, the slushbox does have “SPORTSHIFT manual control” where you rock the shifter back and forth (no paddle shifters here) to change gears. But a four-speed automatic with manual controls is still a four-speed time warp back to the eighties.

The Subaru Impreza 2.5GT’s “sport-tuned” suspension redefines “sport” as “comfort.” If you drive into a corner expecting “WRX-lite,” you’ll readjust your expectations in a hurry. The standard Vehicle Dynamics Control (VDC) and Traction Control System (TCS) conspire to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. Or fun. You can turn the VDC off and improve the tossability, but you always feel like you and the engine want more than the chassis can deliver.

So, where does all of this leave us? The schizophrenic Impreza lineup now ranges from low-cost AWD grocery haulers to the Colin McRae-wannabes’ dream machine, the WRX STI. The 2.5GT tries to slot between those extremes by combining all the luxury of the base Impreza with the performance of a three-year old WRX. It leaves you scratching your head, wondering what the product planners were thinking. It’s as if they had a bunch of last-gen WRX engines laying around and had to figure out something to do with them.

The 2.5GT hatchback five-door lists for $27,690 (get the less-attractive four-door model and save $500). That puts it at the top of the Impreza 2.5i lineup and solidly into WRX territory. The $7k upcharge from the Impreza 2.5i Premium gives you an extra 54hp, automatic climate control and an automatic transmission.

On the other hand, if you can give up a few amenities, you can save $3k by going for the anything-but-base WRX which has 40 more ponies. Oddly, while the 2.5GT comes fairly well-equipped, including sunroof and seat heaters, you can’t get it with the sat-nav available on the cheaper 2.5i Premium. In case you were wondering.

As for the 2.5GT, it’s the first car I’ve driven in a long time that didn’t stir anything in my soul. Yes, it’s a competent automobile. If it weren’t for the 19/24 EPA rating, it would make a perfect commuter car. But that’s just it—there are tons of competent cars out there, many of which cost less than $27K and get much better gas mileage. And many of them wear a Toyota badge. Let’s pray the 2.5GT is just an aberration in Subaru’s product plan.  If not, it signals the beginning of the end of Subaru as we know it and indicates what we can expect from Toyobaru.

The exterior’s a big mess. Still. Viewed from the side, it’s a Corolla with big wheels. From the front, it’s the ugliest WRX yet, even if it now sports the STI’s grill. That’s truly a remarkable achievement. However, I’m reserving the bulk of my venom for the ghastly rear. Our particular tester is the sedan (as opposed to the much better wagon) and all I see a Toyota Echo with twin pipes. Blech!

The interior is no better. In fact, it’s a big step back compared to the 2005 – 2007 flying-vagina model. Sure, the gauges do an expensive-car sweep when you turn the key. And instead of illegible-in-sunlight orange, everything on the WRX’s dash now glows red. But everything’s made from cheaper stuff, which in my STI review I perspicaciously referred to as “crap.”

I particularly dislike that the doors are no longer (partially) covered in fabric. Instead, your left elbow rests against the type of crummy plastic you’ll find lining a 737. Awful to the touch. The seats have less bolstering (but do have heaters) and the steering wheel doesn’t adjust up far enough to even consider driving tricks like left foot braking. Heel and toe’s more difficult, too. Hey, at least the WRX is now manual-only, right? Sadly, it’s BMW-grade floppy and vague.

But there is a new for 2009 engine. One of the two big downfalls of the 2008 WRX: Subaru carried over the ’07 motor. Brand new car, same 224 hp and 226 lb-ft torques. For 2009, the turbo has been swapped out for the STI’s larger turbo plus some piping and ECU upgrades. But big deal, right? I mean, the resulting numbers are 265 hp and 244 lb-ft. Nice, but… Caution! You’re about to enter the all spin zone! When the WRX’ tachometer crests 4,000 rpm, something miraculous occurs. Oh. My. Lord. It’s fast. Freakishly, worryingly, shockingly fast. Ten years ago I would have sworn it was running nitrous. How fast?

The 2009 WRX hits 60 mph from zero in 4.7 seconds. And here’s the kicker: it costs about $25k. Let’s put that in perspective. In 2002, just six years ago, a Ferrari Maranello 575M (the one with the much-admired HVAC controls) stickered for around $225k. The Fezza hit 60 mph in 4.2 seconds. You want new cars? A Porsche 997 costs $75k0 and hits 60 mph in 4.8 seconds. A Cayman S? $60k/5.1 seconds. BMW 335i? $42k/5.2 seconds (though some claim 4.8– which is still slower). M3 sedan? $53k/4.7 seconds. The new Mustang GT and new 370Z are both well over 300 hp machines that cost $5k more and can “only” hit 60 mph in 5-flat.

Subaru’s own STI costs $38k and manages 60 mph in 5.0. Here’s a biggie: Mitsu’s $39,000 EVO X MR? 4.9 seconds. In fact, 0-60 mph in 4.7 seconds is the exact same time as a Buick GNX, a car that 22 years ago was the fastest accelerating production car in the world. $25k, friends.

The other major downfall of the 2008 Rex was the soft-as-peach-yogurt suspension. Especially when compared to all the other dental appliance loosening WRXs that preceeded it. The new WRX fixes that, to a degree. Gone is the whoa nelly! body roll, replaced by what feels like a highly-tuned Corolla. I happen to own an ’06 Rexer; the 2009 model simply lacks my car’s maybe/kinda/could be a race car feel. It’s just too comfortable, too squishy, too mainstream. Not that the new car has any issues with corners (it doesn’t). But its econo car roots are more apparent. Specifically, understeer happens. One aspect that has been improved over all predecessors is high speed stability. Thank God.

So, do you buy the 2009 WRX? As an owner of both a 2006 and a 2001 would I buy it? The obvious problem: the competition. MazdaSpeed3 anyone? Hell, the Chevy Cobalt SS is just as powerful and can whip the WRX around a track. And the Subaru is really, seriously ugly. But here’s the thing: once that big turbo fully spools and starts puking power into the transmission, you realize how little all the other stuff else matters. My advice? Get the wagon, and start looking for rich guys to humiliate.

The illusion starts at the exterior.  See that hood scoop?  You may think that like the WRX and Legacy GT, the hood scoop means performance and fun.  Instead, all it means is "Turbo inside" and nothing more.  But even with the lump on the hood, the new Forester is definitely more attractive than the old one (kudos to Subaru for bucking the trend, there), but it represents a sharp shift from "boxy tall wagon" to "SUV."  Why is Subaru making SUVs?  Beats me, ask Toyota.

Step on inside.  See that hood scoop?  Yes, that bulbous nostril encroaching upon your field of vision that mocks you mercilessly day after day that you should have purchased the WRX.  The ridiculously low front seats give occupants a nice view of the dash, hood scoop, and little else.  The driver seat is thankfully height adjustable. Not so for the passenger, who peers out the window like a five year old struggling to see the road ahead. The seat bottoms are too short as well, providing about as much thigh support as a barstool and leaving both driver and passenger looking for somewhere to prop their knees.

But boy, are the rear seats gloriously spacious.  I found myself thinking could I could overlook the front seats' shortcomings for the rear leg room alone. Then the cold hard reality hit me that (A) I'm going to be riding in the front 99.995% of the time and (B) it is wicked hard to reach into the baby's car seat to retrieve a pacifier when it's a half mile back.  Families with long-legged teens will love the stretch-out space and the trick reclining rear seats.  The rear seemed much more comfortable than the front– but the driver doesn't sit in the rear.  The interior looks nicer than the WRX; quite nearly as nice as the Legacy, actually. 

Let's make no bones about it, the only reason anyone would look at the XT over the base model lies beneath that functional hood scoop: the turbocharged 2.5L YEEEHAWWWW factor.  The new Forester, like the WRX, packs more low-end torque at the expense of the high end but unlike the WRX it feels oddly sluggish overall.  Want to add insult to injury?  Here are your four automatic gears.  The base Forester comes with a manual option; not so the XT.  In fact, it doesn't even warrant the five-speed automatic.  By this point, I'm starting to wonder if Subaru doesn't just want to discourage their hoon-oriented customers– they actively want to crush their spirits.

The overall experience feels like the last two Matrix movies.  You know how much fun it could be, yet it's a stunningly horrible disappointment through and through.  The handling, absolutely atrocious even by SUV standards, betrays Subaru's integral brand image.  The loosey-goosey steering wheel feels like  the ‘91 Explorer my parents drove. Understeer makes cornering an exercise in unexpected surprises. This fact might make you a safer driver, but not by choice.  The whole thing handles like a sack of cornmeal being hauled by sled dogs – it's all mush. 

Except instead of sled dogs, it's being hauled by nearly the best powerplant Subaru has to offer.   Straight line motivation is an excellent adventure but God help ye otherwise.  I can only imagine that such a ridiculously soft suspension and mammoth ride height gives it a passable ride in the rough, but if you have off-roading in your plans, why buy one of these when you can get a bargain bin Jeep instead?  There's precious little to set the XT apart from the rest of the crop.  Sure, it's fast(er), but who cares when driving it sucks the very soul out of you?  Piloting it is an exercise in irritation and you feel like you're actively fighting against the Forester just to keep it on the road.

If you're looking for a sporty, fast CUV with room for the family, go buy an Acura RDX.  It may be more expensive, but you'll never regret it.  I can't fathom why anyone would spend their hard-earned cash on a new Forester, unless you're in that small group of Subaru lovers that won't have anything but a Subaru, and you live in the snow belt and/or need the extra room over an Outback for camping with the family.  However, like Subaru, you can do better than this. 

At some point in our recent automotive history, all wheel-drive (AWD) replaced front wheel-drive as the paranoid consumer's drivetrain of choice. The safety advantages of high quality snow tires (as needed) and a low center of gravity (in all cases) got lost in translation. Ready to capitalize on the AWD's popularity: the economy-oriented Toyota Matrix and the Subaru Impreza. Both diminutive scramblers aren't nearly as cheap or efficient as their front-wheel-drive cousins, and they won't off-road, tow a boat or carry seven passengers. Still, both cars offer a [potential] extra safety margin and [potentially] better handling. So if you had to choose one…

The Impreza and the Matrix were both recently restyled. The new Matrix looks like it's been hanging in Beverly Hills. And yet, even after a nip, tuck, stretch and smooth, the Matrix' bloated-Yaris profile remains. Though the car's tighter greenhouse and diving roof line improve on the prior model's anodyne anonymity, form comes at the expense of function (more on that later).

The Impreza hatch's-sorry, "5-Door's" restyle offers a sleek, ovoid look that's both familiar and jarring. Subaru achieved this paradox by littering a restrained, attractive shape with unnecessary, eye-melting flourishes (e.g. icicle taillights, and faux-Chrysler pilot wings on the grille). Select the "sports grille" option and plain black mesh replaces your slice of plastic corporate flair, transforming the Impreza's styling. If only Subaru offered a "tasteful tail light" option…

The Matrix' one-box (one-trapezoid?) design creates a minivan-in-a-trash-compacter interior vibe (so to speak). The steep windshield and short hood enable acceptable forward vision. But the Toyota's sharply-falling roof and gun-slit windows are insupportable, they put the words "oh shit!" into "blind spot." The Matrix boasts slightly more cargo capacity than the Impreza, but the Yaris provides more hip room.  

The Impreza's rearward vision is also curtailed by its sloping roofline, but at least you can check your blind spots without a periscope. Although the Subie is slightly smaller than the Matrix by most metrics– including the vital rear leg room calculation– its airy greenhouse is far more inviting than the Toyota's four-wheeled bunker.

Let's face it: adult-sized adults won't want to spend an inordinate amount of time in either back seat.

The Matrix's clean, unpretentious interior styling emphasizes function. A pervasive sense of cheapness and fragility prevents its cabin from achieving rugged or utilitarian props. The Toyota's black cockpit is brightened only by acres of the hard, shiny silver plastic that ToMoCo owners have come to know and abhor. By the same token, while the Matrix' large climate control knobs are paragons of simplicity, they're imprecise and poorly secured to the minivan-style console.

The beige-and-black Subaru four-door's interior plastics seem like close relatives of the trailer trash found in the Toyota's cockpit. Other materials are of a noticeably higher quality. And while the two-dimensional Toyota cockpit embraces appliance-dom, the Subaru wraps its occupants in a low-rent take on the BMW driver-oriented interior. If you like the Impreza's sheetmetal, the interior styling won't jar. If not, you'll find it boring, garish or (once again) both.

The AWD Matrix comes in one drivetrain flavor: a 2.4-liter inline four-cylinder engine with a four-speed automatic transmission. Pop it in "D," arrange a sour expression on your face, mash the gas and the 158hp mill will hustle the portly (3360 lbs) Matrix about with joyless adequacy. The quadra-geared slushbox helps keep fun at bay, but doesn't display the manic thrash that Berkowitz experienced with Toyota's five-speed unit (available on non-AWD Matrices).

The drivetrain's misère de vivre is a blessing in disguise; you weren't going to have fun driving the Matrix anyway. Unmanned aerial drones offer more steering feedback than the Toyota's over-boosted helm. The Matrix' pillow-soft suspension upholds this commitment to sensory deprivation. Body roll and understeer quickly define the limits of cornering ability (or lack thereof). That the AWD Matrix gets standard double wishbone rear suspension is more indicative of Toyota's product-packaging strategy than any corner-carving aptitude.

The Impreza has let itself go lately. It's packed on nearly 250 pounds compared to its autocross-dominating 2.5 RS nineties forbears. However, compared to the overfed, over-medicated Matrix, the AWD Subaru is a well-trained athlete. The trademark 2.5-liter boxer four marries 170hp with handfuls of usable torque, requiring only minimal use of the agricultural five-speed stick. Though crunchy and imprecise, the manual makes far better use of the Subie's burble 'n snarl than the lugging, laggy autobox. Both transmissions have their flaws, but it's nice to have a choice (Toyota).

No question: the Impreza's mainstream makeover has dumbed-down the car's handling. With added weight and softer springs, the Scooby tends to lean and hunt for its line, when it should be darting and planting. The payoff: serenity at speed. What the Impreza surrenders in autocrossmanship it makes up for on long trips to the cabin or trailhead.

This is not to say the Impreza is corner-aversive. The Impreza's steering is far more engaging than the Matrix'; the Subaru's helm delivers solid heft and remains in constant communication with the chassis. When the going gets curvy, the Impreza's full-time all wheel-drive routes more power to the rear wheels, allowing the Impreza to power through corners in an entirely pleasant point-and-shoot style.

In stark contrast, the Toyota system displays no hint of AWD hoonery. It only sends power to the Matrix' rear wheels when the front tires start to slip. Unless you regularly drive on dirt or gravel, you might never notice the Toyota AWD engage. Clearly, it's not an integral feature.

In sum, the AWD Matrix is the weakest offering in the Corolla/Matrix range. Nearly all the other cars are cheaper, lighter and more efficient than the AWD variant-and the Impreza. At $21,060 for a base AWD Matrix, it's well inside just-say-no territory. Especially with the $18,640 Impreza nipping at its heels.

With neither the Matrix nor the Impreza claiming a decisive EPA ratings victory (at 20/26 and 20/27 respectively), the Impreza's price point is the game-winner here. And if driving pleasure is even remotely important, the Matrix fails miserably, while the Impreza scores impressively.

Subaru's decision to take the Impreza mainstream didn't win praise from the brand faithful. But it widened the mini-wagon's distance from its competition. The only thing standing in the Impreza's path to segment dominance: mileage (back to that front wheel-drive equation). And the new, all wheel-drive Suzuki SX4, which takes the cheap-and-cheerful approach once espoused by the 'Preza. Having dispatched the Matrix AWD, we'll let you know how the Subie and the Suzi measure-up.

Subaru has made some major styling missteps in recent years. Thankfully, the new Forester doesn't continue that misguided trajectory. There's no funky grille, no bulbous malformations; just a pleasant. nicely-proportioned wagonish shape… that could have come from Hyundai or Mitsubishi or Toyota. Does the new Forester look just like the Hyundai Santa Fe or the Mitsubishi Outlander? Yes it does.

Just so it's clear that the Forester isn't a wagon… some Baja 1000 racers get by with less clearance between the tires and the wheel openings. Modders can fit double-dubs, a lowered suspension or both– and still have room inside the arches for a plasma TV screen.

Subaru's interior is equipped with a lethal combo of upmarket aspirations and cheap materials. There's lots of hard silver plastic– most notably a wide band that forms a wave across the instrument panel. [Note to carmakers: no one wants to grab cheap-feeling plastic every time they shut the door.] Sadly, the soft-touch dimpled polymer that impressed back in 2003 didn't survive the redesign. The old Forester's interior wasn't as suavely styled, but it looked more genuine and felt more solid.

Subarus have traditionally been more dimensionally challenged than the competition, especially in the back seat. For the first time ever, you'll find plenty of legroom inside a Subaru. What's more, the rear seat reclines. More importantly, the Forester offers useful storage cubbies, bins and indents everywhere you look, and many places you don't. Another positive change: you get a decent sliding center armrest as standard equipment, rather than as a dealer-installed accessory. Way hey!

Some of the Forester's key characteristics haven't changed: the Forester still has a boxer four and all-wheel-drive. But the fancy new wrapper makes promises the naturally aspirated powerplant just can't deliver sans turbo. (There is a turbo on offer, just not in the L.L. Bean variant tested.) 

The Forester's Curb weight is up about a hundred pounds (to 3400lbs), the engine's output is down by a few horses (three bhp), and Subaru apparently feels that a fifth gear is still too special for its junior models. Bottom line: no matter how much you rev this engine, there are no thrills to be had. The Forester's engine sounds sounds so gruff you won't want to rev it. But you'll have to rev it, just to get the Forester up to speed. Good thing there's a manual shift gate; the automatic prefers to lug the boxer when left to its own devices.  

Not that you want to be making many knots when you turn the wheel. Aside from the over-light steering, the Forester's chassis feels perfectly composed in relaxed motoring. But hit a turn with any semblance of speed and massive understeer meets insufficient grip on the wrong side of the yellow line. No doubt the Yokohama Geolanders (yep, them again) are good at something. But that something isn't hanging on to dry pavement. Stability control is standard for those who think understeer is an invitation to push harder.

On the flip side, the ride is smoother and quieter than in the old Forester. Think Toyota.

Problem is, even with Subaru and Number One now joined at the hip, does the world really need another Toyota? Subaru used to be about getting a Japanese car that was unlike other Japanese cars. In every way that really matters, the new Forester is just another compact crossover. The body is nice to look at. But so are those of the Santa Fe and Outlander it so closely resembles.

Subaru's predictable response: Hyundai and Mitsubishi don't have the automaker's patented symmetrical all-wheel-drive. Granted: Subaru's trademark drivetrain system is desirable- when combined with a lusty turbocharged engine, taut suspension and sticky rubber. In the 170-horse Geolandered Forester it makes not the slightest difference.

The previous Forester was unlike anything else in the segment. The new one is just like everything else in the segment, for both good and bad. This is good for Forester buyers, and bad for Subaru. Go figure.

Although I can't speak for Subie's Sapphic fans, sex appeal is NOT the Outback's raison d'etre. Oh, it's handsome enough; in a stern, trim, no grotesque affectations sticking you in the eye sort of way. Subaru's raised the beltline (to lose the Popemobile effect), added new lights (there was a sale on Japanese fish eyes) and stuck a Chrysler Pacifica logo on the snout. While the Outback now looks more expensive than it is, it's about as quirky as an accountant wearing different colored socks.

The interior is equally enthralling and twice as sensible. Fold down the Outback's rear seats and lifestyle load luggers enjoy almost as much schlepitude as Volvo's V70. Although Subaru's redesigned the Outback's instrument panel, "revised" the interior fabrics, added a telescoping wheel (yay!) and numbered the radio buttons from one to five, the cabin remains very much of a muchness. There's nothing tasteless, nothing tasty. Well, except for the meaty steering wheel…  

 The helm puts you in charge of Subaru's 170hp 2.5-liter SOHC aluminum-alloy 16-valve horizontally opposed four-cylinder engine. If Porsche went all Jaguar on us and tried to dip down market, this is the kind of engine I'd expect: smooth, free-revving and just about as gutsy as a four can be. But Outback drivers are never in any doubt that they're lugging around a couple hundred extra pounds of all wheel-drive (AWD) gear. 

The Outback's ride is comfortable without the slightest hint of refinement. Dry road handling is exemplary, with predictable body roll and enough steering feel to tell you when to quit (early and often). Try to accelerate out of a couple of turns and the Outback's architecture tells you that the vehicle could stand another 80 horses– and the rest. The no-fun factor might be considered a plus in a wagon full and kids and dogs and things to be inflated, but it's a definite drawback when you're all alone and late for work. And then…

I was fortunate enough to test our base Outback on fresh powder and packed snow. The worse the conditions, the better it got.

Needless to say, I developed an immediate and intimate respect for Subaru's time-honed Symmetrical AWD system. While other drivetrain layouts have all kinds of 90 degree kinks to sap power and response, the Outback's in-line engine allows more direct power transfer to all the wheels. At the same time, the low-slung boxer engine provides a lower center of gravity, like bending your knees when you're skiing.

The Outback's four-wheel disc brakes, with ABS and electronic brake-force watching over each wheel, proved highly effective on the white stuff. More to the point (of the vehicle's existence), when traction is iffy, it's nice to have more options than merely stop and go. The Outback's manual transmission gives the set up more feel. Sure, you can crank the automatic's lever back and forth, but it's not the same as feathering the clutch, whipping up the revs or using the engine as a brake.  

Taken as a whole, the Outback bites, rather than slides on, the snow; it felt like I had an invisible keel slicing through an unseen slot in the road. Although it doesn't have all the toys and [much of any] torque, the entry level Outback has still got the bad weather integrity that makes it an entirely justifiable for people who live in the… wait for it… outback.

Again, if you live in those parts of the country where you can get to grandma's house sans icy winds and killer snow drifts, and you're not likely to travel for hours on unpaved roads, the Outback is a different beast. Well, maybe "beast" is the wrong word. A different "animal:" one of those zoo dwellers that's odd but not terribly attractive. Though it's still adept at negotiating wet leaves, large puddles and the occasional hopped curb, the Outback's charms diminish in direct proportion to the civility of your driving environment. 

The number of American drivers who favor a manual transmission is in the single digits and falling fast. But Subaru's right to continue offering a stick shift, low frills, Outback with a relatively anemic engine.

What's the reverse of a halo car? You know: a car that shows that a brand is still in touch with the austere competence that endeared its products to its original financially-challenged, mechanically savvy customers? The five-speed manual base Outback is it. Well done to Subaru for not pulling-up its roots. Now, if they could just strip and flip the STI…

Not from the look of it. I wonder how far the STI's development had progressed when GM sold its shares to Toyota; the front of this sucker resembles a partial-birth Saabortion. Subie designers must have had a running bet to see who can fashion the world's most grotesque cars nose. The STI's rump is also ugly against all odds. Clear Lexus RX style taillights? Yuck. Quad tailpipes? The STI only has four cylinders for Malcolm Bricklin's sake!

The STI's side view is the only decent angle. From that perspective, it looks Roger Clemens's trainer shot up a Saab 900.

The STI's interior is a travesty at the price. Someone (Subaru? GM? Toyota?) replaced the previous car's nice-for-an-econo-box plastics with crap. Crap whose crappiness is increased exponentially in full consideration of the STI's $40k price tag. The STI's cabin "boasts" a cartoonishly oversized (or is that MINIshly?) tachometer, festooned with green and pink neon lights, which glows a deep orange-red. Now that's cooking with class! Radio buttons on the steering wheel of an STI? In a word, nyet!

A big however, however, occurs when you start moving your hands and feet around. The STI's tiller is the right kind of chunky. While it could be an inch or two taller, the metal and leather shift knob feels like the business end of an aluminum bat. And a special shout out to the ideally placed pedals. To me, no car is set up better for the old heel-and-toe routine. While I'd still prefer the JDM STI's racing buckets, the USD leather/Alcantara seats look fly and provide enough bolstering to defend the U.S. invasion of Iraq. Almost.   

Light the fuse and the STI's carryover (but remapped) 305 horsepower boxer mill will rocket you to 60 mph in 4.8 seconds. The STI doesn't feel nearly that slow. If not for the fussy gearing that forces an up-shift to third, you could hit 60 mph a lot faster.

Still, like all turbocharged Subarus, the 2.5-liter four-banga is useless below 4000 rpm. And because the new heads feature variable valve tech, the STI's redline has been lowered by 400, down to 6600 RPM. That's a lawn mower-grade useable power band, which explains the constant gear rowing. (I happen to love it, but many won't.) The STI's big, bad Brembos are absurdly fantastic. More importantly, they feel burly, which is exactly what drivers want when decelerating from triple digit speeds.   

The STI's supposed killer app: DCCD. That's Driver Controlled Center Differential to you and me. We're talking an open center diff that sports clutch-type locking. In default Auto mode, the traction control computer monitors wheel slippage and routes torque accordingly between the front and rear wheels. But with 18" x 8.5" Potenzas on 18-spoke forged aluminum BBS wheels mad-doggedly grasping the pavement, what's the point?

In Manual mode, you can vary the lock-up from a 50-50 split to a maximum of 35/65 front to rear. There are three Automatic modes to choose from: "Auto," "Auto +" (for snow and gravel) and "Auto -" to route more torque to the rear wheels. After screwing around with the DCCD settings for 400 miles, I'm sad to report that the entire system's a total waste of time. I didn't notice any difference in handling save for lighter, less accurate steering in, uh, one of the modes.

The STI's "SI-Drive" knob lets drivers select from three throttle response programs. "Sport" is the default setting. If you're interested in saving gas, there's an "Intelligent" mode that neuters the engine's power output by 20 percent. While I question the smarts of anyone who buys an STI and worries about fuel economy, I'm thinking of having "Sport Sharp" tattooed on my forearm.

Needless to say that's because the fully enabled 2008 WRX STI outhandles an X-acto knife. Yes, the steering's a bit lumpen, and the chassis understeers at the limit, and the mammoth tires produce unwanted bump steer rolling over the nastiest bits. But this sucker's is a four-wheeled middle finger to Newtonian physics. Einstein, too.

True to its rally roots, the worse the road, the better the STI behaved. In fact, I didn't really dig the STI until I fed it some busted-up asphalt. Then my love blossomed with an unnatural (and sideways) passion. 

So, is the STI worth a 14k premium? The depends entirely on your driving license's current status and your access to crumbling roads.

Farago’s flying vagina metaphor continues to wreak havoc on Subaru’s design department. While the Tribeca’s nose responded to the diss by becoming a Chrysler Pacifica tribute band, the Impreza’s front end is “blessed” with yet another corporate grill. This time out we get a diminutive U-shaped motif topped by the kind of faux aluminum "spread wings" Pan Am stewardess used to pin on small children. The result is about as distinctive as Brooks Brother dress shirt, only less classy and not as distinctive.

Considering the outgoing Impreza’s ability to inflict blindness at 1000 feet, the new model’s overall aesthetics are a step up. The new LED taillights may be completely out of place on a car that’s trying this hard to be inconspicuous, and there’s more than a passing resemblance to the kinda flashy Mazda3. But as far as thoroughly inoffensive looks go, Subaru is making considerable headway. **golf clap**

Yes, well, Impreza build quality still sucks. Yank on the car's door handle and you too can feel like The Incredible Hulk. While the entire portal doesn’t rip off the body in your hand, a Coke can pop top offers a greater sense of solidity. Subaru may have ditched the sashless windows, but the first (quality) cut is the deepest. 

Inside, everything looks nice enough. Just don’t touch. I’m not saying the Impreza's plastics are low rent, but if they were a Manhattan apartment, they’d have a waiting list a mile long. To be fair, the new Subie's interior isn’t quite as craptastic as its immediate predecessor– which is like saying Friday the 13th Part VIII was a more compelling cinematic experience than Friday the 13th Part VII. The Impreza’s seats are still as flimsy as the plot lines of both/either films. Then again, if you wanted lateral support, you’d drive a car that needed it…

The Impreza offers the same 2.5-liter boxer engine that’s graced Subaru’s pedestrian offerings since 2004. The 170-horse mill provides the Impreza with class-leading (Civic, Corolla, Mazda3, Cobalt) thrust, And unlike the 2.5-equipped Legacy, the mini-mill serves-up enough grunt to get the 3000 lbs. base Impreza out of its own way. Ditch Subaru’s weak-sauce four-speed automatic tranny– which occasionally ignores requests for power– and "sufficient" acceleration becomes "more than merely adequate forward momentum."  

The Impreza’s improved suspension makes for firm-but-soft-but-firm progress. The double-wishbone layout is far more refined than the outgoing multilink version, with bump absorption on a par with Subaru’s more expensive offerings. But something’s been lost in the process: sportiness. Even the slightest whiff of corner carving potential has been completely, radically removed. Sad but true: this Impreza is no sportier than a Kia Rio.

Through the corners, the Impreza handles pretty much like the WRX, only worse (if you like driving) or better (if you don’t). Caning the WRX made me want upgraded sway bars and springs. Pushing the Impreza to its limits made me want neither. In fact, it was one of the least memorable drives of my life. At least that’s what my notes tell me.

The Impreza’s driving dynamics have only one thing to recommend themselves: all wheel-drive (AWD). And who needs that in a thirsty, mildly-powered economy car? Hands-up if you regularly face inclement weather or suffer from general paranoia. In that case, your exceedingly safe, reasonably practical, deeply dull Subaru Impreza awaits. The most basic Impreza gives you AWD, a slew of airbags and change from twenty large. Add another $1,500 for traction control, stability control and emergency braking assist, and you’re good to snow.

If you don’t want or need AWD, there are a lot of other cars that are just as good as the new Impreza, all of which can be had for less money. They may be less powerful, but most drivers in this class are more than willing to sacrifice the extra oomph of a 2.5i engine for higher gas mileage.

Yes, there is that. The base Impreza used to overcome such prosaic concerns based on its “quirky” styling and driver satisfaction; offering enough power and handling to create a [faint] mechanical echo of its extreme sib’s head-banging performance. Clealry, the Impreza has jettisoned both assets in pursuit of mainstream success. The Faustian bargain makes the Impreza a better (if over-priced) Corolla– and a worse Subaru.

Initial impressions: welcome to the new Subaru3. The good news is that the car may be less photogenic than Tara Reid, but in person it’s not too bad– even with those stainless-steel-horseshoe taillights and uni-brow grille. Sharp creases along either side work well here (as they’ve worked well elsewhere, hem-hem), though the front seems overly rounded in comparison. The truly elephantine hood scoop has the look of a just-about-to-sneeze 550 Maranello, but at least it’s well-integrated and less of a hack-a-hole-in-the-hood afterthought than previous years.

The bad news: whether four-door sedan or (better) five-door hatch, the playful nature of earlier WRXs is notably absent. Bugeye. Peanut-eye. Pignose. Impreza owners have always embraced their rides’ weird looks with affectionate disdain. Driving an ugly-ass Subaru was a chance to stand out from the pack, knowing all the while you had the goods underhood and underfoot.

The slick new model fails to distinguish itself from the motoring multitudes AND it looks like it was designed to adhere to some focus group’s idea of “sporty.” Still, the new WRX may have a touch of the old Subaru fungoid; it remains to be seen whether its looks will grow on its (former?) fans.

After you whack your head on the unexpected window frame, you enter a not-so-markedly improved cabin. The new dash offers reasonably subdued chrome accents and a flying-V design theme (an encore performance of the fallopian Tribeca). The materials boast higher quality than the old WRX’s “we-spent-the-budget-on-the-drivetrain” PVC wonderland. Fine-vision gauges with STI-style startup sweep and center-mounted tach complete the updated look.

The new Subie’s extended wheelbase means that rear leg-room is far less likely to induce DVT than the old model’s cramped quarters. A more compact suspension means a wider (if not overmuch larger) trunk. Once again, rear visibility takes a backseat to styling. On the positive side, the new front seats are wonderfully comfortable and supportive.

Well, vertically. When it comes to cornering, it’s a case of BYO-Bolsters. If your seatbelt’s not snug, an aggressive turn can easily catapult you into your passenger’s lap. I’d also happily sacrifice the new steering-wheel-mounted stereo controls for a Momo tiller. And the shifter is as vague as Miss Teen South Carolina, particularly when down-shifting from thirdish to secondish.

But why downshift? Subaru’s new 224 horse 2.5-liter mill lacks the pulsing sonic thrill you expect from a boxer engine, but it’s got porterhouse-sized servings of torque (226 lb-ft of torque at 2,800 rpm) with a side order of insta-boost. In nearly any gear, at nearly any rpm, it’s possible to walk on the throttle and watch the traction control flicker like an electric eel trying to stun a manatee. And that’s with AWD. I frequently found myself punching it in the middle of a corner just to see what would happen.

Sounds fun, right? Well, while the hugely available low-end grunt makes the ’08 WRX a traffic scalpel, mash the gas on a corner and it rolls like an improperly ballasted galleon. Grip is more than adequate for any sort of reasonable person, but g-force aficionados better get on the pre-order list for some aftermarket swaybars, STAT. And we’re not well pleased that VDC stability control is a $1500 option.

The WRX’s speed-sensing variable power-assisted rack-and-pinion steering remains quick and accurate, but provides less feedback and more insulation. As rough roads and gravel will still be a natural playground for those who dare to get their side-skirts dirty, the tiller’s tactility isn’t a huge issue. And while the soft, long-travel, four-wheel independent suspension (double wishbone at the back) may add to the new Impreza’s tippy cornering, it’s truly astounding at swallowing bumps. Speedbumps are to be scorned, potholes pitied.

Taken as a whole, Subaru hasn’t dropped the ball with its new WRX. They’ve just punted it onto a whole different playing field. While the old WRX had its own (numerous) shortcomings, it easily made up for them with puppy-dog enthusiasm and ever-present utility. The new model has all the modern charm of a robot dog. It’s not bad, by any means: more comfort, more space, more style (arguably) and more fuel economy. All of which makes it more easily justifiable to your comfort-loving significant-other. It’s just too bad that all these “mores” add up to less fun.

The SE looks handsome, in a black turtle and khakis kind of way. Enthusiasts won't slow down to get a better look; but nor will status-conscious suburbanites rush to park the lower-end Legacy behind a garage door. The SE has the kind of solid, understated charm– derived from its crisp lines and aesthetic restraint– that once typified BMW and Mercedes, right down to the blacked-out window chrome.   

That said, Subaru's due on a Montel Williams' "Who's the Father of My Baby?" episode any day. Look! It's got Chrysler's nose! The hood scoop is the only remaining link between models, and the Legacy Special Edition isn't special enough (i.e. turbocharged) to have one. Who'd a thunk we'd be arguing for a fake hood-mounted air inlet? But there it isn't.   

The restraint continues inside, almost to a fault. The switchgear and buttonology have been arranged with reachable righteousness, but it's all lost in a sea of sameness. Our test car "featured" charcoals and silver, silver and charcoal. The hazard light button sticks out nicely, as it should, and that's it. The gauges are so restrained they look delicate. What's up with that?

Nobody wants their sports sedan associated with "frail." Thankfully, the steering wheel is thick and shapely enough to allay such fears. Luckily, any remaining concerns disappear entirely when you use the SE as the gods of speed intended.

Subaru has been refining this 2.5-liter SOHC aluminum-alloy 16-valve horizontally opposed (boxer) four-cylinder engine for more than a decade,  adding an i-Active Valve Lift System, platinum-tipped spark plugs and other similar goodies continuously, year after year, with continuous consistency that would make W. Edwards Deming proud. The envelope please: 175 hp and 169 pound-feet of torque.   

The power is smooth and plentiful. As with everything Legacy, forward acceleration lives somewhere between snapping your neck and leaving you embarrassed; say, just under eight seconds from rest to 60mph. To the base model's motive capabilities, the Legacy Special Edition adds a moonroof and power seat.

All of Subaru's cars come equipped with a stick shift, s'il vous plait. Get one, skip to the end of the review and smile. That's because all of Subie's automotive "specials" get a four-speed adaptive electronic direct-control automatic gearbox with SPORTSHIFT® manual control. Translation: you can change gears with the stick shift or not; if not, the system adapts to your driving style.

The first part is highly entertaining… for about a minute-and-a-half. For the second bit, the autobox' electronic brain supposedly adjusts the shift points and speed thereof accordingly to your driving style. Unfortunately, even after its finished studying an enthusiast's habits, it still acts like the kid in the back of the class who didn't read last night's chapter. Stomp on the gas and the tranny goes "Huh? What?" And then plays catch up.

That's fine for people who don't drive like there's a T-Rex in their rearview mirror (metaphors may be closer than they appear). But anyone who really likes to get a move on, or even thinks about running with the big dogs, will find their hand wandering back to the SPORTSHIFT. And longing for a stick.

Still, mileage you know. And it's only because the SE's so damn personable that the autobox' slushiness stands out. And slush is really where this car really shines, er, excels. Nice weather didn't permit an appropriately gooey test drive, but the Subie's symmetrical all-wheel drive system hasn't changed. So we can expect the same grippy properties from the Legacy SE that made the brand a staple in the Northeast.

On dry pavement, the system is as noticeable as an Izod shirt at a Daughters of the American Revolution ("I want your DAR!") golf tournament. Aside from the lack of bracing forward thrust, the Legacy lacks the heavy feeling one expects from a car with four wheel-drive. It's nimble enough for government work. 

No question: the Legacy SE won't thrill you like its siblings. It does, however, offer excellent utility and phenomenal bad weather stability at a family-friendly price. It does nothing truly exceptional, nor does it completely fail in any specific area. On just about every scale, the Subaru Legacy 2.5i Special Edition is a happy medium. All the little Subie needs is a better autobox and a bit more love.

Subaru deserves props for abandoning the only automotive design capable of making a Pontiac Aztek look like a mistake (rather than an affront). But patterning the Tribeca’s snout after the prow of Chrysler’s bilious station-wagon-on-stilts is yet another mysterious miscalculation. While the Tribeca’s new nose is as innocuous as the previous one was pervy, why would Subie want potential customers to mistake its SUV for a failed product from a struggling American automaker?

At least the sanitization of the Tribeca’s Area 51-themed rear end leaves the Subaru’s butt looking like the posterior parts of the entirely successful (if now dated) Lexus RX. It's a distinctly upscale makeover compared the Tribeca’s side profile, which is now a dead ringer for the Toyota RAV4. Put it together and what have you got? Something deeply derivative and wildly innocuous with about as much Subaru brand DNA as Japanese knotweed.

The Tribeca’s interior carries over from the previous version; it’s still swoopy in a vaguely nauseating sort of way, adorned with the same flat silver plastic that Revell uses to give their model airplane wings their trademark sheen. The cowled instruments make no sense in this application, aside from diverting your eyes from the over-sized, ‘70’s-style digital readouts hovering inside the climate control knobs. On the positive side, tweaking the Tribeca's stereo’s mid-range and treble controls delivers serious tuneage.

The Tribeca’s seats offer about as much lateral support as a Sit-‘N-Spin, with the extra disadvantage of a steering wheel that doesn’t adjust for reach. And if you’re thinking about using the Tribeca’s third row for anything other than the kiddies’ stuffed animals, it’s best not to mention the middle row’s fore and aft adjustment to sugar-crazed siblings.

Getting the “old” Tribeca to move out of its own way was like asking an inceberg to dance. Given the previous engine’s impolite appetite for premium fuel, there wasn’t much Subaru could do to rectify the Tribeca’s sloth. So they didn’t do much. They modified the existing H6 engine package to run on regular, added variable valve timing to the exhaust valves and fitted a shortened conrod. Voila! The Tribeca’s powerplant grows from 3.0-liters to 3.6-liters, increasing power by 11 horses (to 256hp) and adding 32 ft-lbs. of torque (up to 247 ft.-lbs.).

Factoring the Tribeca’s 4250 lbs. curb weight, the SUV's gone from woefully slow to a kinda slow. Unfortunately the Tribeca still has a prodigious thirst for dead dinoflagellates. Call me carbon positive, but I reckon a SUV whose city mileage struggles to hit sweet 16 is OK if it accommodates seven genuine people and/or holsters a bad-ass V8. Otherwise, not.

More productively, Subaru took another bash at the Tribeca’s five-speed autobox, whose previous unwillingness to shift would test the patience of an opium addled Maharishi. Although shifts are noticeably faster and smoother, the engine now sounds like your mother’s old Hoover. Worse, the Tribeca’s slushbox remains obstinate on inclines, holding onto higher gears as if the lower ones didn’t exist.

The steering is equally unresponsive, with enough slop to feed a large family of pigs. But Subaru’s tweaks to the Tribeca’s rear suspension are easily the worst part of the car’s less than stellar driving dynamics. Not only does every lump and bump send a muffled shudder through the otherwise serene cabin, but it all goes seriously wrong over badly broken pavement.

On anything less than a smooth surface, the Tribeca’s newly recalibrated suspension’s rebound rate fails to catch up with even a minor series of horizontal jolts. I don’t know exactly what Subie’s boffins did to the Tribeca’s front McPherson struts and rear wishbone, but the result is so uncomfortable I actually began to feel carsick. No wonder Subaru removed the “B9” designation from the model’s moniker.

For an automaker famous for creating cars that can carve-up a country road and leave it for dead, a company that advertised its car-based models as SUV alternatives, Subie's SUV is an unabashed and unforgivable brand betrayal. The only real question is when the company will "face" the fact that shooting the messenger doesn't alter the truth: you can't make a silk SUV out of sow's ear or, you know, whatever.

With redesigned headlights and taillights and a larger, chrome-ified grille opening, the LGT looks like an edgier, more aggressive Camry (before Toyota beat it with an ugly stick). The LGT’s hood scoop is a restrained version of the STi’s gi-nomous nasal passage. The equally undemonstrative aerodynamic addendum doesn’t invite Civic-driving young’uns to a stoplight race.

More signs you’re in a Subie designed for grownups: the LGT’s portals close with a Germanic whumph. Subaru’s also replaced the nasty ass plastic blighting their rally replicars and off-roaders with soft touch polymers, though the quality has dropped slightly since the ‘05 update. The LGT’s eminently grippable, leather-wrapped steering wheel and moderately bolstered leather seats are a cut above the WRX’. In short, while the LGT’s cabin won’t keep Audi’s haptic hit squad up at night, Volvo knows who’s eating their lunch.

To help justify sticker escalation, Subie’s added a standard telescoping wheel, front/rear climate control and [optional] memory seats and navigation. More basically, the LGT’s astonishingly large front cupholders can accommodate your Big Gulp, sunglasses, cell phone and iPod with room to spare. The door’s equally outsized grab handles add a wikkid— and useful— touch.

The LGT’s 2.5-liter four-cylinder engine is a detuned (smaller turbo) version of the STi’s bonkers powerplant. Subaru attempted to remediate the sluggish nature of their five-speed automatic by providing the “Subaru Intelligent Drive” system, or rather, the “Slow, Interfering Drive” system. The frugal-friendly “Intelligent” setting generates a flatter torque curve. “Sport” and “Sharp” dial it up a notch, providing access to all 243 horses and more acceptable go-pedal response.

If you really want to see ‘er fly, stick to the manual. Even on Sport Sharp, the automatic is over a second slower to sixty from rest. Even shiny new paddle-shifters and rev-matched downshifting can’t fix the harsh reality of a sluggish slushbox. Subaru needs to take a cue from VW, call up Borg Warner and bless the LGT with a DSG paddle shift gearbox or similar.

Symmetrical all-wheel drive provides all-areas access to the four-door’s thrust, helping it to rapidly outpace similarly-powered FWD cars (I’m looking at you Mazdaspeed3). The LGT’s accelerative head rush and throaty exhaust growl are addictive enough to render turbo lag forgivable, if not forgettable.

Fast? During a trip through the mountains, only another LGT (with local knowledge) could show us a clean set of tailpipes. Fun? See: previous sentence. If the previous LGT stuck to the road like a sucker fish to a stone, the new model adds a dab of super glue. For ’08, Subaru fitted A-pillar braces and stiffer bushings. The more rigid body and tighter suspension endow the LGT with almost STi-quality handling– though the LGT’s long body occasionally gives corner carvers the unsettling feeling that the rear end is about to beat them to the finish line.

While there’s enough body roll at speed to encourage queasy passengers to check the rear seat pockets for a barf bag, daily driving is a doddle, with excellent composure over moderate lumps and bumps. The LGT’s steering is light and responsive, providing excellent road feel. The previously mushy brake pedal provides ample stopping power, but you won’t want to.

Speaking of Volvo, safety is now one of Subaru’s main selling points. While you can’t fault the LGT’s official crash test ratings (five stars all round), electronic alphabet soup (ABS, EBD, VDC, TCS, TPMS, plus LSD in the spec.B), passenger safety cell or full complement of airbags (side curtains for all), there’s a big old chink in the LGT’s armor: tires.

The LGT’s all-season Potenza RE92’s give pistonheads all the dry pavement death grip they’ll ever need. On snow pack or ice, it’s an entirely different story– without a guaranteed happy ending. This website has said it many times: even the world’s best four-wheel drive system– and Subie’s certainly qualifies for that honor– is no substitute for proper winter footwear. Full stop. Or not, as the case may be.

When the fourth-generation LGT was released, it was America’s best-value sub-$50k sporting sedan– especially when you considered its all-wheel drive. The LGT’s punch also made it a suitable STi alternative for penny pinching hoons. With laudable entries like the Mazdaspeed6 undercutting the LGT’s steadily-increasing price ($33k as tested), buyers may wonder if the LGT is worth the price of admission. It is. From the driver’s seat at least, the LGT is a genuine stunner.

The basic package hasn’t changed, nor should it. The Popemobile proportions (tall windshield and high roof) are a motorized mitzvah for tall drivers. While the result flies in the face of history– when Chrysler President K. T. Keller insisted that tall men should be able to wear fedoras in his cars, he almost killed the company—the resulting visibility is virtually unparalleled. Swoopy cars, low angle windshields and obese pillars be damned; Forester owners want to see who they’re cutting off where they’re parking.

The Forester’s boxy exterior has suffered a reverse face lift (a face drop?): folds and lines have replaced youthful smoothness. Or is it just aging naturally? Something short, ugly and Russian comes to mind; either a Lada Niva or an old babushka. Who cares; the Forester was born ugly, but it remains true to its mother’s wise admonition: “It’s what’s inside that counts.” 

And mother’s advice has been well heeded. Compared to lesser Foresters of yore, stepping into the ’07 XT is like visiting your favorite old diner after it’s been turned into the Trattoria de Toscano. Subaru’s replaced the old fabric booth with heated leather seats that wouldn’t be out of place in a German motor. The steering wheel is like putting on expensive leather gloves. The instruments are clean and classic; no trendy gimmicks. The aluminesque center panel is a la mode, but the controls are logical and obvious. Workmanship: a solid B+. A good thing too, because with that lovely big sky-light overhead, flaws have no place to hide.

Unfortunately, there’s one less-then-salubrious carryover: rear leg room. The Forester’s second row is as ergonomically challenged as the third row of a transplant CUV. My teenage son’s solution: stretch his feet out between the front seats. How safe (and smelly) is that?

The Forrester XT’s inner beauty really shines in the engine compartment. The 2.5 liter flat four cranks out 224 horsepower and 226 ft/lbs of torque, and with its inherent nigh-perfect balance, it always stays cool and smooth. It lets you know it’s there with that turbo-whistle, but it’s never objectionable, unless Lexus is your benchmark.

Like most turbos, it’s a little coy at low revs, but once past 3000rpm the sex bomb explodes all the way to its 6500rpm redline. With AWD keeping the XT’s footwear firmly in contact with the pavement, redlining first gear is like high school hot-rod antics for grown-ups: all the fun, but none of the attention-grabbing tell-tale of burning rubber. Second gear takes you to 60mph in just 5.3 seconds. Keep rowing and the quarter mile arrives in 13.8. There’s more bang on offer than you’ll find at a percussionist’s convention.

The XT’s traction, ride and handling are up to the accelerative challenge. The all-season 17” rubber sing their surrender to lateral g-forces too early, but that’s a fair trade-off for getting to the ski lodge. With its low center of gravity (a la boxer engine), SUV vertigo is noticeable by its absence. Whether throwing the machine sideways on blind-corner gravel logging roads, bumping down a rocky path to a hiking trail, making high speed runs on deserted desert roads or barreling through snow, ice, wind and rain; the XT is always supple, accomplished and confident.

When cruising the freeway, the XT’s low gearing is a lot less helpful. I kept reaching out to the shifter in hopes that it had miraculously grown a sixth gear. At 75mph or so, an extra cog would put the revs right at the intersection of turbo-plateau and turbo-boost, in that preferred state of restful alertness rather than futile restlessness. Sigh.

After the styling miscalculation with the B9 Tribeca, trepidation as to what Subaru will throw our way with the next gen Forester is warranted. They seem to be chasing an Audi/Volvoesque styling direction, with highly uneven results. The current Forester may well end up being the last in a long lineage of Subaru funky boxes. Buy or wait? My take: better the devil you know.

At first glance, the 2.5i Sport Wagon isn’t what you’d call an appetizing proposition. The Wagon’s snout-mounted upside-down Alfa-Romeo radiator-hole looks decidedly indelicate. At least the 2.5i’s got a more graceful front end than the WRX Sports Wagon, whose hood scoop gives it a nostrilly appearance that only Prince Charles could truly love. The rest of the 2.5i’s body is blissfully free from flared wheel-arches, rear spoilers and other vulgarities. It’s as restrained as muesli.

There aren’t many other external clues differentiating the 2.5i Impreza from its beefcake cousin. In fact, park the 2.5i next to older versions of the same car, and you’d be hard pressed to date the evolution. Yes, every couple of years Subaru fits new alloys and affixes prettier tail-lights to its Imprezas. But that’s the same sleight of hand used by every 17-year-old when pimping out a mid-nineties Civic hatchback. Suddenly, that wacky schnoz starts to make sense; it’s the only easily identifiable (and how) feature in an otherwise humdrum design. 

Open the SW’s sashless doors and you’ll discover more blast-from-the-past-ery. Judging from the dubious quality of it’s-a-hard-knock-life plastics deployed throughout the cabin, Subie’s parent must shelter a shopping-bag recycling company under its corporate wing. If you can bear touching the 2.5i’s shiny, not-so-happy control surfaces, all the basic amenities are pleasant and accounted for: A/C, cruise control, in-dash CD, keyless entry, etc. The controls and dials are laid out with all the simplicity befitting their, um, simplicity.

The 2.5i’s front seats are well bolstered beneath their cheap upholstery. The Wagon’s back seats are comfy enough– provided you’ve got rubber femurs. Folding down the rear chairs creates a cargo space large enough to stow both bicycles and battered guitar cases. But let’s be honest: the SW is no wood-panelled ocean-liner of a Vista Cruiser. In fact, it’s nothing more or less than a capacious hatchback, offering the same 62 cubic foot cargo capacity found in my old Mazda 626 liftback. Hey Doc, maybe if I drive the little Subie 88 miles per hour I can get back to 1991.  

Great Scott! Cranking over the Sport Wagon’s 2.5-litre boxer engine generates the sort of agricultural noise normally heard whilst perched atop the red horseshoe seat of an antique Massey-Ferguson. Luckily, everything soon settles down to a dull wobble. This is your first clue to the Impreza’s dynamic personality. “Hello!” the offbeat vibrations say, “This is not a normal car.”

Although the 2.5i’s engine is only good for 173hp @ a relatively lofty 6000rpm, the SW musters-up enough twist (166 lb-ft @ 4,400 rpm) to take some hoon-oriented liberties with its electronically controlled variable transfer clutch (a.k.a. all wheel-drive). The little Impreza practically leaps off the line– and then strolls to sixty in a shade over eight seconds. Never mind; at full chat, the Subie’s boxer engine roars like a bathtub speedster. It simply begs to be flung into the nearest corner. 

Ah yes, corners. The Impreza 2.5i Sport Wagon may slingshot out of turns with less alacrity than a WRX, but at least it does so with equal bravado. With its compact engine mounted longitudinally on the down low, and a sports-tuned four-wheel independent suspension, the SW is a superbly sure-footed, balanced performer. Body roll is minimal, tire adhesion predictable, throttle response enjoyable and braking thank-God-able.

In the rain, driving the Sports Wagon is like playing football on a muddy field wearing cleats— when everyone else is slipping around in sneakers. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Rudyard Kipling’s ride: “If you can keep your head while all about you are losing theirs, you’re probably driving a Subaru.”

There are a few quirky quibbles. The Sport Wagon’s clutch pedal action is funny. The shifter has a slightly plasticky feeling (shopping bags again). And… that’s about it. In fact, the Sports Wagon is everything an enthusiast could want in a family hatchback– save good looks, touchy-feely materials and neck snapping acceleration. It’s so multi-purpose, it ought to come with a corkscrew attachment. At a hair under $18k, what’s stopping you?

The WRX Sport Wagon. For another $7k you get better tunes, improved plastics, sportier dials, a roof spoiler and 51 more horses. While the veggie-burger edition is thoroughly justifiable and a lot less unsatisfying than you’d imagine, the red meat iteration is, dare I say it, irresistible. 

The athletic contours of Subaru's attractive Legacy are a welcome departure from the norm. Its tapering greenhouse, sloping backlight and interesting harp-shaped taillamps are inherently attractive. Fortunately, the team at Subaru charged with transforming the Legacy's basic form into an Outback didn't violate that trust. Yes, there's still lower cladding and a vestigial spear of door-ding armor, but both have been smoothly baked into the vehicle's form (available in body-color on certain hues). So even if the 2005 Outback it isn't a picture of modern maternal magnetism, it's still a second-look MILF. The design works particularly well up front, where eagle-eyed headlamps no longer appear malnourished (in comparison to the bumper's elephantine fogs). Handsome, broad-spoke alloys draped in 17" mud-and-snow rated Bridgestone Potenzas mark out their territory convincingly. A wisp of roof rack topside completes the picture.

One design caveat: although sashless windows are something of a Subaru hallmark, using them on a rough-and-tumble SUV simply doesn't work. More annoyingly, the resulting doors never thud home with genre-satisfying solidity. While the glass doesn't don't rattle like an old soda can kicked down a country road, the whole effect is decidedly tinny. It's a particularly perplexing obsession for a brand that doesn't have a convertible to justify this type of construction.

Inside, the Outback's been through the refinement wringer. Soft touch plastics, a chunky tri-spoke Momo and electroluminescent gauges (that do a nicely choreographed dance upon startup) give the Outback a refined aura, though stylistically it breaks no new ground. TTAC's tester arrived sporting the 'Limited Package': leather, dual-zone climate control, power everything and a panoramic sunroof. The six-puck stereo's fidelity was a marked improvement from the last few Subie's we've driven, but where's the satellite radio and steering wheel controls?

With almost 9" of daylight between terra firma and the Outback's greasy bits, one might expect the XT to bob and weave like Karl Rove in front of a press corps. It doesn't. Subaru's simultaneously lowered the Outback's center of gravity while raising its ground clearance (a feat tantamount to turning Evian into Shiraz amongst automotive engineering types). Oh, there's a skosh more body lean than in a garden-variety Legacy, but passengers will hardly reach for the Dramamine. If anything, the XT is under-tired; the 225/55-series Bridgestones cry foul long before the suspension gets flustered.

The XT handles root-strewn trails with the acumen of a larger body-on-frame vehicle. Our confidence was buoyed by the Outback's packaging— its ugly bits don't dangle low like other faux SUV's. While hardly Dakar-ready, the Outback's Mac strut front/rear multi-link setup boasts greater capability and articulation than many so-called 'real' trucks. It's also at home on the interstate, where this Subaru's game suspension, surprisingly direct steering, trustworthy brakes and ample passing power carry the day.

The XT renders its sauce from Subaru's 2.5L boxer engine, a reworking of the force-fed hellion normally found in the WRX STi. Detuned for 250hp and 250 lb-ft. of torque, Subaru's symmetrical all-wheel-drive system routes the power from front to back in an egalitarian fashion– at least until the Variable Torque Distribution system decides conditions (or your right foot) warrant otherwise. Of course, drivers must pay a premium for the privilege; this boxer only quaffs high-octane hooch. For those preoccupied with displacement, Subaru offers a pricier 3.0L H6, but enthusiasts in-the-know won't bother. The 2.5L is at once lighter, freer-revving and oddly enough… more torquetastic.

The automatic XT gets Subaru's new five-speed unit. This gearbox incorporates a 'Sportshift' manual feature: drivers can swap cogs manually via the +/- detent in the console shifter, or by a couple of steering-wheel resident rocker switches. We'd have preferred a set of paddles, with the vacant real-estate filled with audio controls. Regardless, the Sportshift is a more involving alternative than simply leaving the box in 'D'– especially as the Outback is decidedly reluctant to kickdown on steep inclines. However, the best choice for canyon carver and pinchfist alike remains the five-speed manual.

As an automotive journalist, the 'what's the best car' question regularly raises its unfortunate, misshapen head, sullying everything from office gatherings to block parties. It's a thorny question best tackled with a trite 'horses for courses' remark. Nevertheless, Subaru's Outback makes a compelling case for itself as an outstanding all-rounder. Who'd have figured a soccer mom sporting mukluks could be the life of the party?

Not to belabor the point, but who in their right mind would put a vagina on the nose of an SUV, and then accentuate the effect with wings and hood strakes AND make the shape stand proud of the grill? Yes, I know: the design reflects Fuji Heavy Industries’ past as an airplane manufacturer. But they don’t make airplanes anymore, and the ones they DID make attacked Pearl Harbor. While we’re at it, the B9′s rear resembles the face of a gigantic alien– which is only fitting. Other than its side profile, the B9′s best viewing angle is high Earth orbit.

OK, I’ve said my piece: there are very few eyes in which the B9 is beauty beheld. Now, on to the B9′s interior; or, as Joseph Conrad would say, “The horror. The horror.”

In order to fulfill their inscrutability quota, several Japanese manufacturers have tried to fashion their cars’ dashboards into a single, flowing, organic shape. Subaru’s B9 provides a particularly egregious example of this entirely pointless pursuit– with the extra annoyance of meaningless symmetry and buttons that are about as pleasant to prod as a week-old cockroach carcass. Well maybe the goofy binnacle isn’t ENTIRELY pointless– its lower portion’s striking resemblance to a set of fallopian tubes continues the reproductive theme without. Anyway, once again, form murders function.

But wait! There’s more! In case the cabin lacked sufficient cognitive dissonance to completely distract you from the business of driving, the gauges are hooded inside a small cowl. This sporty touch makes as much sense as a parachute on a scuba diver. Or a seven-seat SUV with less leg room than a small-sized envelope. In fact, there’s only way to accommodate seven humans in a B9: the front AND middle seat passengers must slide their chairs all the way forwards. The solution puts the steering wheel in contact with the driver’s chest and everyone else in a foul mood.

All of these shortcomings could be forgiven if the B9 drove with the élan of the only-slightly-less-ugly and equally cheap-feeling WRX STi. It doesn’t. Whereas the rally-bred STi has a fire-breathing turbo four in its belly, the B9 gets a normally aspirated 250-horse flat six. The three-liter engine simply doesn’t have enough torque to motivate the 4260lbs. Scooby without sending the tach needle on a mad dash towards the redline. This it does, to great sonic effect, every time you even think about building up a head of steam. What’s more, power increases exponentially at the top of the rev range, giving the B9′s engine an unpleasant on/off character.

At the same time, the B9′s another behemoth that’s been geared for parsimony rather than pleasure. One wonders how many mpg’s she’d muster if the gearbox didn’t shift into fourth by the time you’ve accepted personal liability for your own stupidity via the touch screen. The fact that the slushbox only dishes-up five cogs, and that the last one is longer-legged than Marisa Miller, doesn’t help. One hill climb proves that there are times when three out of five IS bad.

Once you get up to speed– and find a way to maintain it– the B9′s ride and handling are on the right side of entertaining. Although the B9 is based on a stretched version of the Subaru Outback, the company ditched the wagon’s trick multi-link rear suspension for a more robust double-wishbone set-up, and compensated for the loss by stiffening the chassis. Right answer. The B9 soaks-up lumps and bumps like a luxury car, yet holds the road with remarkable poise for one so large. That said, the B9′s recalcitrant engine – gearbox combo makes mid-corner throttle corrections a hit-or-miss [the scenery] affair. Despite Subaru’s legendary brand loyalty, the B9 is not the STi driver’s best choice for a family car.

In fact, it’s hard to know exactly who should buy a Subaru B9. The only clue comes from the vehicle’s third name “Tribeca”. That’s the hipster’s sobriquet for the New York City neighborhood in the “TRIangle BElow CAnal street”. It’s the ‘hood where artists sell “challenging” work for outrageous prices. If you see the Subaru B9′s hideousness and piss-poor packaging as representative of Subaru’s iconoclastic artistry, you might want to go there. Otherwise, don’t.