2011 Chevrolet Camaro SS Convertible

Muscle cars have never coped well with having their tops clipped. Losing the roof rarely does a vehicle any favors in the rigidity department, but the high-horsepower, high-torque coupes of the last four decades took fiendish delight in twisting themselves into pretzels after a few enthusiastic throttle plunges. To make matters worse, frumpy, awkward-looking soft tops were never as attractive as the original tin. When it came time to design the fifth-generation Chevrolet Camaro, the engineers at General Motors specifically aimed to avoid those pitfalls by drafting the chassis to field both coupe and convertible duties.

Long before the first test mule ever turned a tire, this coupe was designed to go topless, and the result is one of the more stable convertible platforms out there. With a little help from the minds behind the Chevrolet Corvette soft top, the retractable lid even offers the same sleek profile as the Camaro Coupe. That's not to say all is right in this cruising kingdom, though. Tough top-up visibility, a bulging waistline and an overly extroverted interior all work against the drop head. Even so, this is still a vehicle soaked in summertime. And whatdayaknow? The sun's out.

Part of the appeal of the fifth generation Camaro is the vehicle's concept-car aesthetics. With a low-slung roof line, high hip and plenty of sharp creases, it should be lounging under auto show lights instead of sulking in the Costco parking lot. The designers at Chevrolet managed to retain most of the coupe's presence thanks to the fact that both vehicles wear identical sheetmetal from the window sills down. Up above, a long, arching soft top still holds true to the profile of the coupe when in in place. The piece can be had in black or tan cloth as the buyer sees fit, and for the most part, the design is free of any odd bulges from protruding bows.



Put the top down, and the Camaro Convertible takes on a much more swept look than its fixed-roof kin. The steeply angled windshield becomes more prominent without the burden of anchoring the top and the muscular hips over the rear fender arches define the vehicle's profile. It looks good, even if it is the size of a small river barge. At 190.4 inches long and 75.5 inches wide, the 'vert matches its coupe twin for length and girth, resulting in a vehicle that feels larger than life, even at a glance.

That theme continues on indoors. Thanks to a surprisingly wide cabin and a tall dash, it's hard not to feel like you're 12 years old sitting behind the wheel of your uncle's new car. That high hip line translates into a window sill that isn't made for resting your elbow, at least not without losing blood flow to your arm. Our 2011 tester also came with the highly-stylized but not overly comfortable steering wheel of the 2011 Coupe. General Motors has fixed that issue with a parts-bin piece on 2012 models, however.

The rest of the cabin feels much like the Camaro we know, with the notable exception that the rear seats are now significantly easier to access. With the top down, two adults had no problem sinking into the rear buckets, though the tight seating made for bruised hips on the side of the seatbelt buckle. Though legroom is cramped for rear passengers, there's enough space for young people and flexible adults. Our cabin came awash in some impressively obnoxious orange plastic trim and leather seating surfaces, though we do appreciate the attractive orange contrast stitching on the door panels.

Unlike the Corvette Convertible, which relies on a button tucked well below and to the left of the steering wheel to operate the retractable soft top, the Camaro Convertible leaves its button out in the open and right beside the large center latch. Undo the mechanism, press the button and listen to the whir of electronic and pneumatic wizardry as it pulls the top into the trunk cavity. The whole process takes around 20 seconds, which sounds brief enough until the skies open up on all that orange leather. Once the top is stowed, an optional toneau cover can be folded in place for a clean, finished look, though the piece is an aggravation to install. Check out the Short Cut below for a look at the top in action.


Those who thought rearward visibility of the coupe couldn't get any worse need only to throw the convertible into Reverse with the top up to see just how wrong they were. The infamously lengthy C pillars of the hard top have somehow swollen in the convertible, and while the back glass looks large enough, its angle and height make for a narrow field of view.

GM equipped this particular SS-branded beast with a 6.2-liter LS3 V8 engine with 426 horsepower and 420 pound-feet of torque mated to a six-speed manual transmission. The duo is the most desirable engine and gearbox combination available and is borrowed straight from the coupe. There are some mechanical differences between the two, however. Engineers added additional bracing in four key areas to give the Convertible as much of the rigid feel of the coupe as possible. A sturdy aluminum strut tower brace, a transmission support reinforcement brace, an underbody tunnel brace and front and rear underbody V braces are all tacked in place to combat torsional flex. The company says that all of the work helps give the Camaro Convertible the same stiffness as the BMW 3 Series convertible.



While we didn't have the pleasure of putting a 335i Convertible through its paces against the big Bow Tie (probably a good thing), we will say that the engineering work paid off. Typically, wrenching the roof off a coupe leads to dreaded cowl and column shake as the chassis contorts over rough road surfaces. The typical engineering response is to soften the springs and dampers to the point that the effects are less pronounced. GM is proud to remind us that the Camaro Convertible uses the exact same spring and damper rates as the hard top, which results in an incredibly similar driving experience. Under most normal circumstances, there's little telling the two apart. Only under some serious thrashing did we notice even a hint of column shake during a deeply-cambered downhill right – a situation that the vast majority of Camaro Convertible buyers will never find themselves in.

While the standard Camaro is no great pantheon of handling, the fact that its large, topless sibling can come close to matching pace is pretty impressive. Unfortunately, the convertible is lugging around a substantially larger curb weight, which colors the driving experience accordingly. According to GM, the Camaro SS Convertible tips the scales at 4,116 pounds in our tester's spec. That's a full 267 pounds heavier than the SS Coupe, with most of that weight lodged over the rear axle. As a result, acceleration feels somewhat dulled even though GM claims that the vehicle can get to 60 mph in 4.9 seconds – two-tenths of a seconds slower than the hard top. The convertible simply feels heavy to drive, with braking, cornering and straight-line grunt all taking a hit.

But the Camaro Convertible does well as a comfortable cruiser and there's no denying how good it looks cruising through town or rolling down a deserted highway at dusk. The optional high-intensity discharge headlights of the RS package on our tester are appropriately threatening with their halo ring and the long, lunging hood is unmistakably Muscle. With an as-tested MSRP of $42,995 including the $850 destination fee, the exterior was covered in a black vinyl stripe package, while the loud orange interior accent package rang up an additional $500, with another $1,200 for the RS package.

GM doesn't seem to be trying to convince anyone that the figure is a small price. In fact, the company calls the BMW 3 Series convertible its chief competitor instead of the Ford Mustang GT Convertible. The latter will cost you $38,310 plus destination for a GT Premium Convertible while the German commands a lofty $46,450 plus destination for the significantly less powerful 328i Convertible.

So where does that put the Camaro SS Convertible? Buyers seeking the near irresistible nostalgia of the coupe combined with the joy of being able to put the top down will find exactly what they're looking for. It easily trades its performance credentials for cruising machismo, and in a machine like this, that's no slight.

Review: 2011 Subaru Impreza WRX

One point three inches. How much difference can it make? That depends on what you're measuring. If you're comparing the 2010 Subaru Impreza WRX to the 2011, that small measurement makes all the difference in the world.

If you're a Subie fan, you've already read our First Drive. The headline news for the 2010-to-2011 changeover is that the WRX gained the STI model's widebody fenders and 1.3-inch wider track. Wanting to know whether the growth in girth made any difference to the affable and relatively affordable WRX, we decided to spend some quality time in the example you see here.

We learned plenty. Many things work well for the practical enthusiast. Others, not so much.





What works? The place we'll start is on a narrow, circuitous road outside of San Francisco that links two unimportant intersections well off the beaten path. Driving this road requires as much time looking out the door glass as the windshield. Some corners are cambered, which makes the flat ones much more interesting. The straights are long enough to change up a gear, an action that is quickly followed by serious braking.

Driven at just 25 to 65 mph, this road demands everything a car and driver can muster. We've enjoyed it many times and know that through many corners you'll use up every inch of the chassis's suspension travel. On downhill sections, brakes can fade. Communicative steering is highly valued because intel on the road surface can mean the difference between smacking a rock wall, driving into a ravine or clipping the perfect apex.



The 2011 WRX attacked this road. Spinning almost from lock to lock, Subi's light steering felt perfectly weighted for this duty cycle. Thankfully, the car's ample greenhouse and thin pillars provided good visibility. From the driver's seat, you don't notice the car's extra width.

What you do notice is that when pushed hard, the WRX's jounce bumpers (a.k.a. bump stops) are definitely designed to be an active part of the car's suspension. Jounce bumpers prevent articulating suspension components from impacting the subframe or chassis. In some cars, these are simply hard pads that prevent metal-to-metal crashes. In the Subaru, they are progressively tuned to manage suspension energy during the last iota of suspension travel.



Braking and turning into a tight curve often uses up most of the damper's main travel. When steering corrections are needed or pavement undulations are hit mid-corner, the outside suspension components need to compress further. Instead of causing a harsh impact and a poorly controlled rebounding action, the WRX's bump stops absorb the extra energy and enable a smooth rebound that doesn't upset the neutral balance of the car, making the 2011 'Rex incredibly trustworthy and predictable at the limits.

High-performance summer tires certainly contributed to the WRX's stability. Measuring 235/45R17, they're a centimeter wider than the 2010 edition and ride on new, lighter wheels (down 1.5 pounds per corner) that are themselves an inch broader. (Those who live in northern climates with four seasons should opt for all-season rubber or plan on owning a second set of tires. When temperatures approach the freezing point, the summer-compound tires get hard as chair casters and offer about as much grip.)



Once into a good road rhythm, you begin to notice other things about the 2011 Subaru WRX.

The 265-horsepower turbocharged 2.5-liter flat-four sounds great. Unlike most cars, the WRX (and most Subarus) emits a unique exhaust note thrum that enthusiasts can ID without a pause in conversation, and the engine itself emits a muscular howl as it moves up and down the power band. On the highway, things settle into a pleasant hum that matches the powertrain's minor vibrations. But make no mistake – this is not a quiet car from idle on up, though if you're looking for interior refinement, chances are you aren't shopping for a WRX.

As for how it performs, under 2,500 rpm the torque curve is flat (read: turbo lag). But spool it up and the 244 lb-ft moves the WRX with authority. On boost, the power delivery is nearly linear with a bit of extra ramp up just before the soft rev limiter cuts in at around 6,500 rpm.



Like the steering, the clutch and accelerator pedals have a lightness to them. We would have appreciated more feedback from the clutch pedal, but it's easy to get used to and won't tire you out in normal driving.

The shifter also felt light, requiring little effort to change from gear, while still providing Subaru's patented blend of aggressive notchiness. The relationship of the brake and accelerator pedal made heal-toe downshifting a breeze, even for someone with smaller feet.

The brakes proved stout, but our pace was aggressive enough that the pedal did soften a couple times. The aroma of hot pads wafted into the cabin more than once, suggesting a pad and fluid swap before heading to the track.



After exiting our remote and semi-private proving grounds, we headed toward the Pacific on various roads south of Half Moon Bay. On these roads, we mingled with traffic and realized that the WRX invites challenges from other enthusiasts. (To the guy in the vintage MGB coupe who tried hanging with our WRX... valiant effort. You and the car did very well considering the vintage brakes, skinny tires and the fact your girlfriend was riding shotgun.)

At legal speeds driving north on Highway 1 and then on interstates heading toward wine country, the WRX shared more about itself that only extended wheel time reveals. For example, the light steering that was a clear benefit on twisty roads felt almost too feathery for regular driving. Likewise, the useful suspension compliance sometimes felt floaty over undulating highway pavement. The front chair that proved initially supportive also got downright hard after five hours at the helm.



Design details also made themselves known; the halo glow at the end of the speedo and tach needles made it easier to capture a quick read of those gauges. And those gauges are a style statement. Before you key the ignition, the dials are a black void. Once running, the gauges come to life and their graphics make them easy to read. Even still, don't confuse the WRX's interior for anything but a workmanlike environment – the controls are where you want them, but the overall ambiance is one of a discount and somewhat dated interior livened by a few good driver's tools (namely the wheel, alloy pedals and the leather gearshift knob).

Wind noise was well controlled, and the cabin remained free of buffeting with the sunroof open. There was noticeable road noise, but considering the WRX is an Impreza at its core, expecting a library would be unreasonable. Curiously, most of the din seemed to originate from behind the driver.

When the sun set, we quickly learned that the fog lights are for style only. Good thing the low beams threw adequate light and that functional fogs would be an inexpensive upgrade. Naturally, the optional HIDs are a solid investment considering how easy it is to overdrive the lights in a car this quick.



After spending quality time with the 2011 Subaru Impreza WRX, we came away feeling that this would be an easy, practical performance car to live with. In most people's real lives – as opposed to their fantasies – 265 horsepower is plenty, making the WRX STI's extra 40 hp seem superfluous.

And about those extra 1.3-inches; they add considerably to the car's visual presence while enhancing usable performance. With a starting price of $25,495, that's a good deal no matter how you measure it.

2012 Fiat 500C

Northern California is an odd place – and that's just the cars. For every Toyota Prius-driving eco-yuppie, you'll find a diehard Datsun 510 enthusiast. And you can't toss a bushel of puntarelle without hitting a grease-powered Mercedes-Benz in the East Bay. But here's a better case in point: A few weeks back, I was driving an arrest-me-red Chevrolet Camaro SS Convertible and it barely turned a head. One week later, there was a Mercedes-Benz E350 Bluetec parked in my driveway and I couldn't stop fielding questions.

Like I said, odd.

So when I snagged the keys to a 2012 Fiat 500C, I wasn't sure how it would be received by the mismatched masses of the Bay Area. Less than 10 miles later, I lost count of the number of thumbs-up and double-takes I got while crossing the San Mateo Bridge. Surprising? Not really.

After all, this is the coast that seared the original Volkswagen Beetle into the national consciousness and took to budget compacts years before Detroit had a clue. But while we've driven the 500 in all its guises, one question remained: Could you really live with something this damned cute?

If you're looking for something with some visual panache for around $20,000, your options are decidedly limited. The 500's obvious competition would be Mini, but a base Cooper starts at $20,100, with the droptop commanding $5K more. Honda Fit? Pedestrian. Smart ForTwo? Please. Mazda2? Fun, but lacking curb appeal. Nissan Juke? Polarizing. All of which puts the 500C in an odd middle ground. It's not a budget city car and it's not a premium subcompact. But it's a good niche to cater to.

While 500 pricing starts at $15,500 plus $500 destination, the C comes in $4,000 more at $19,500. Our Pop-spec tester with a five-speed manual carried a sticker of $21,750, and the only car we could secure for a photo shoot was a loaded Lounge model with six-speed automatic that cleared $24K. Not bad, but that $4K tariff basically means the power canvas roof accounts for more than 25 percent of a hardtop 500's base price, and that seems rather stiff. Either way, there aren't many options to choose from – particularly if you want to retain the manual 'box, which is only available on the less expensive Pop model.

With the standard C-spec goodies (Customer Preferred Package 21A) bringing Blue&Me hands-free connectivity and a pair of awkwardly positioned stereo controls behind the leather wrapped steering wheel, the only major option left is the $1,250 Bose Premium Audio Package. Tick that box and Bose pumps out a few extra watts through the six standard speakers, and a one-year SiriusXM subscription and alarm system comes along for the ride. All that's left is to pick your colors, roof fabric ($500 more for the Bordeaux red top), wheels (another $500 for the 15x6-inch aluminum hoops) and one of two interior trims. That's it. And that's fine. If you're looking for 10 million possible combinations, there's a Mini dealer down the street more than willing to take your order – and charge you a suitably Germanic premium for your individuality.

But the 500C can't possibly compete in the driving department, right? Well, that depends on what you're after.

While the 101 horsepower and measly 98 pound-feet of torque provided by the 1.4-liter Multiair four-cylinder couldn't outrun an injured turtle with a bottle rocket on its back, the 500 can make a case for itself if you're a fan of momentum driving – even if merging on the freeway requires you to consult that rosary hanging from your rearview mirror.

A long-haul highway car, the 500C is not.

With a wheelbase that's practically as long as the Fiat is wide, trundling along over 70 mph feels like you're doing The Ton. The light steering – useful in the city – goes from targeted to twitchy once you've crested 50 mph. Lay into the throttle in any gear at any speed and the tiny four-cylinder wheezes to life, just enough to get all 2,400 pounds past that smoke-belching Merc and into the path of an oversized Suburban (our sincere apologies to said Chevy driver).



But get off the freeway and it's a totally different story – one in which the Fiat finally gets to play protagonist.

Hit the on-ramp under 50 mph and you can slide the top all the way back, making the 500 one of the most charismatic targas since the 1965 Porsche 911. All that high-speed angst and worry seems to get sucked into the sky as the 500C finally gets into its element. And its groove. It's like piloting an O.G. Beetle, but without any of the stuttering, strain and potential for death.

Dropping the top is one of the most simple affairs this side of a Mazda MX-5 Miata, with two roof-mounted buttons controlling the fabric roof's surprisingly quick motor. Press the button once and the top retracts nearly all the way back, still allowing a rather unobscured view out the rear window. Press it again and the fabric accordions atop the trunk, providing just enough of a view to make out the light bar on a CHP vehicle, but not much more. Not that you'll be having many encounters with the highway's police in the first place. With the top all the way back, wind buffeting is well controlled and it's only slightly better in the two-thirds position. If you press the close button twice, the top moves into a pseudo-sunroof configuration, and when fully closed, wind noise is kept in check unless you're crossing a particularly gusty bridge.



While the steering isn't nearly as dialed-in as a comparable Mini or Mazda, it provides enough feedback to instill some faith in the chassis. It's safe to assume that most 500s will be outfitted with the six-speed automatic, but the enthusiast's money is on the manual, which provides significantly more engagement per mile, although it's delivered through a rubbery gate and a featherlight clutch. Brake feel is predictable once you get past the initial inch of slop and the stoppers held up to a beating, if only for a bit. Tire squeal from the 185/55 R16 rubber comes on at anything past six-tenths and body roll is severe, but the 500's oh-so-low limits quickly became part of its charm. Its bolsterless seats, driver-only armrest and ability to annihilate nearly all rearward visibility with the top down... not so much.

On the infotainment front, both a USB connection for iPods/MP3 players and an eighth-inch auxiliary jack are mounted on the left side of the glovebox. Tip: Choose your playlist before you go, as it's both impossible to plug in while driving and the stereo's menu system makes choosing an artist/album/song feel like playing mid-90s Mindsweeper blindfolded. The same goes for the voice controls, which are – at best – half-baked. If you're looking for interior tech, look at the Ford Fiesta.



But if you're interested in style at a price, the 500 is where it's at. And the smiles-per-mile quotient is easily tilted in favor of the open-roof 500C, despite its paltry 53-pound weight penalty. With EPA estimates of 30 mpg in the city, 38 on the highway and around 32 mpg observed, it beats out subcompacts with nowhere near the charisma. Less-than-respectable interior plastics and a comically cute trunk (5.3 cubic feet, or enough for a grocery run for two malnourished 20-somethings) might be the biggest everyday negatives next to the shelves that stand in for rear seats, but such is the price of presence on a budget.

So... could we live with it day-in and day-out? No. Or at least, not in its current form. With the turbocharged, 175-hp Abarth version set to arrive late next year, nearly all the dynamic quibbles we have with the suspension, tires and engine (maybe even the interior) should be addressed. In keeping with Fiat's pricing approach, the Abarth will likely be thousands less than a comparable Cooper S with half the trimmings, and in ragtop form, it could be many things to many people. Even a finicky San Franciscan.

2012 Lexus LFA

Medical dictionaries define a drug as "any article intended to affect the structure or any function of the body of humans."

The 2012 Lexus LFA is not a supercar, it is a narcotic.

Twist the carbon-fiber key of the Lexus flagship and listen to its race-bred V10 wail. Within seconds of the sound reaching the eardrum, the adrenal glands initialize epinephrine production and endorphins are released from the pituitary. The result of the natural injection is a more rapid heartbeat, an increase in blood pressure, involuntary muscle relaxation/contraction and an overall feeling of well-being - the human body becomes more alert, physically stronger and has greater energy. In layman's terms... the LFA makes its driver feel positively euphoric.

Regrettably, as is the case with most "feel good" medicines, the LFA is also extremely habit-forming and highly addictive. But Lexus has addressed this issue by ensuring safeguards are in place to prevent abuse. First, a person has to be of legal driving age to get behind the wheel. Second, the automaker has limited production to just 500 units worldwide (there are only 46 in North America today). Lastly, and this will certainly keep the toxins from falling into the wrong hands, is that the base sticker price of the carbon-fiber, aluminum and titanium hallucinogenic is a nicely-rounded $375,000.


Yes, it is unlikely that your friends, neighbors or co-workers will overdose on LFA anytime soon.

Lexus recently allowed me to sample its intoxicating supercar for a few days. No complaints, as it was a lot longer than Senior Editor Damon Lavrinc's taste at Homestead-Miami Speedway two years ago while attending the vehicle's launch. It didn't seem right to review the LFA without a plan, so a scheme was concocted that would allow the car to be driven on coastal highways, curvy mountain roads and wide open desert straightaways during an extended one-day banzai road-trip. Thankfully, Southern California delivered the proper geography and weather to pull it off.

The plan, plotted rather meticulously a few nights prior to the LFA's arrival, was to take the vehicle on what amounted to a giant geographical loop. To maximize the driving experience, the route deliberately encompassed the aforementioned coastal, mountain and desert driving with elevations ranging from sea level to nearly 9,000 feet. Temperatures would mirror those extremes, with a low of about 60 F. at the ocean and a sweltering 100 F. in the desert. In total, the drive would start around noon and cover about 350 miles during day and night - including a desert photo shoot during sunset.

Clear skies greeted me on the morning of the drive, as did a rather dusty LFA in the driveway (black really isn't the vehicle's best color as it shows lots of dust while simultaneously hiding nearly all of its unique styling cues). In person, the supercar looks bigger and more muscular than it appears in pictures, despite the fact it is nearly identical in length to a Porsche 911 and Chevrolet Corvette, but lower and wider than both.



Toyota was obsessed with weight savings, so the engineers specified aluminum alloy construction over traditional steel from the outset. However, when calculations proved they still wouldn't meet their objectives, featherweight - yet immensely strong - carbon fiber became the build material of choice. Expensive and difficult to work with, the automaker relied on its 150-year-old textile manufacturing experience to develop new looms to weave the fiber, and advanced molding techniques to cast the durable carbon-fiber reinforced plastic (CFRP) components. What isn't composite is titanium, aluminum or some other alloy. The rumors are true; there is no steel in the Lexus LFA.

With a photo shoot scheduled at the culmination of the day, cleaning the LFA was the first priority. The hand-wash gave me a good opportunity to run my hands over the expansive carbon-fiber bodywork and explore the countless scoops, ports and air intakes (they are numerous enough to make a cheese grater feel inferior). The various air intakes are all functional; slots in the nose feed fresh air to the engine's lungs and cool the front brakes, while the vents on the hood bleed excess engine heat and feed cool air to the titanium exhaust manifolds. Additional side inlets deliver air to the rear brakes, large rear radiators and enclosed titanium mufflers.



Under the carbon fiber hood, with its own trick carbon fiber prop rod, is a naturally-aspirated 4.8-liter V10. Thanks to lightweight internals, including titanium valves and connecting rods, the engine redlines at 9,000 rpm with an ultimate fuel cut-off at a dizzying 9,500 rpm. The powerplant, which Toyota says is smaller than a traditional V8 and lighter than a conventional V6, features individual throttle bodies for each cylinder. With dry sump lubrication for sustained high-speed cornering, it is rated at 552 horsepower at 8,700 rpm and 354 pound-feet of torque at 6,800 rpm. The awe factor doesn't stop there, as Toyota also fitted its LFA with equal-length titanium exhaust manifolds and a beautifully-tuned titanium silencer. The sound coming out of the center-mounted triple-cluster exhaust is pure Formula One, a high-pitched wail that is unheard of outside a race circuit.

Gear changes are electronically managed, with instruction sent to a rear transaxle gearbox containing a single-clutch automated sequential transmission. A dual-clutch design wasn't possible with the LFA, says Toyota, as its freewheeling V10 engine can spin from idle to redline in just six tenths of a second. This necessitated a low-mass single-clutch system that was able to handle the speeds and a digital tachometer in the cockpit because an analog system could not keep up with the engine's insane transitions.



A race-bred suspension keeps the LFA's wheels in contact with the pavement. It isn't exceedingly sophisticated - lacking electronic damping or any other wizardry - but it offers aluminum remote-reservoir monotube dampers, hollow anti-roll bars, forged aluminum knuckles and forged suspension arms. The brakes are massive cross-drilled carbon-ceramic units with six-piston alloy calipers up front and four-piston calipers in the rear. Sticky Bridgestone tires (265/35ZR20 front and 305/30ZR20 rear) complete the package.

The near-disturbing obsession with weight savings, combined with a mid-front engine mounting, delivers a near-ideal 48:52 weight distribution and a curb weight of just 3,263 pounds (that's 566 pounds lighter than the slightly nose-heavy Nissan GT-R). Lexus claims its LFA will rocket to 60 mph in 3.6 seconds towards a top speed of 202 mph.

I dropped my six-foot two-inch frame into the LFA's cockpit to find it as visionary as the exterior, but not exactly ergonomic. While there is an impressively overwhelming mix of carbon fiber, aluminum, leather and soft Alcantara covering nearly every square inch, there are a few oddities. These include a lack of cup holders, a lack of storage nooks and a lack of cruise control. It seemed as if the LFA was already hinting at its single-minded objective even before I started its engine.



Unenlightened folk will have a difficult time driving the LFA, as a bit of pre-flight instruction is required. The starting procedure requires the key to be turned (to initialize power) while a foot is on the brake pedal and the gearbox is in Neutral - pull back both shift paddles simultaneously to bring it out of gear. At that point a small light will illuminate on the face of the steering wheel directly below the carbon fiber "Engine Start" button. Press and hold the button down until the engine fires a few seconds later. First gear is engaged by pulling back on the right shift paddle. To engage Reverse, put the LFA back into Neutral with the shift paddles and then slide a little button on the side of the instrument hood. The parking brake is electrically operated via a switch just below the driver's right knee. The primary controls sound confusing, but acclimation comes quickly.

The first order of business was to program my route in the rather unspectacular navigation system (it is just a stock Lexus unit). With that complete, the second order of business was to fill the empty passenger seat.

I thought about it briefly. Then I did what any responsible father would do - I drove the LFA directly to my son's middle school, marched into the front office and pulled him out of class for the rest of the day. While only in seventh grade, and just 12 years old, he's a Forza Motorsport expert who knows more about the LFA than most salesmen in a Lexus showroom. (Plus, my heart told me this type of father/son bonding was more developmental than anything he would have learned in history, social studies or pre-algebra that day.)

Father, son and LFA left the school parking lot and headed north towards Ojai on U.S. Route 101.



Getting the LFA up to highway speed took about as much effort as dropping a rock on your foot, but that is where the exciting part ended. I don't mean to shatter dreams, but driving any supercar in moderate traffic on a 65-mph highway is as frustrating as having your date's mother chaperone your post-prom party.

Making matters worse, the LFA's suspension bickered with every pothole, wide expansion joint and stretch of grooved concrete it encountered - the Lexus shook the two of us like a bull attempting to throw its riders. As we passed the coastal city of Ventura and turned inland, we laughed when a sharp impact sent us high enough to leave a pocket of air between our jeans and the Alcantara seat cushions. It was funny at first, but it got old rather quickly.

Holding a fixed interstate velocity, the constant wail of the engine also hit a nerve as it spins over 3,000 rpm at highway speeds. Its soundtrack drowns out everything within three lanes, including the patience of the occupants. The two of us needed to find an open road quickly.



The transmission has four modes (Automatic, Normal, Sport and Snow). I'd been using mind-numbing and slow-shifting Automatic on the highway, but as we approached Ojai on California State Route 33 (CA-33) I dropped the gearbox into its Sport mode and began to shift manually with the column-mounted paddles. Entering the artsy town, where most residents drive something along the lines of an eco-friendly Prius, I kept the engine spinning at about 4,000 rpm just to gauge effect. The trio of exhaust outlets bellowed loudly, with the unique soundtrack not only encapsulating the Lexus, but broadcasting one hundred yards in each direction. The pipes announced the arrival of the exotic like a horn blower in a medieval king's procession. It was fun to watch the peasants on the sidewalks as they turned and stared.

Done terrorizing Ojai, we filled the tank with high octane unleaded and again pointed the nose north to follow CA-33 into the Santa Ynez Mountains. Within 15 minutes we were the only car on the twisty two-lane mountain road.

Have you ever seen how a dog reacts at the park the moment its owner releases the leash? Think about the precise second when man's best friend notes its freedom and sprints madly away, as if it has never seen an open patch of earth. The Lexus must contain a molecule of canine DNA because it seemed to sense the open road in front of it.

I didn't realize it then, but I had just swallowed the LFA pill.



Overcome by the passion of driving a spectacular machine on an equally breathtaking road, I seized the opportunity to put the LFA through its paces. With the gearbox in Sport (where it would remain for the duration of the day), I gently tapped alternate paddles to keep the V10 in its sweet spot as the vehicle danced like a well-disciplined ballerina.

Implausibly well balanced, the LFA was incredibly fast and extraordinary in its ability to hold the line. It rewarded smooth driving and precision inputs through the thick flat-bottom steering wheel with loyal obedience. While it was easy to rotate mid-corner, by lifting or applying throttle, it came back just as effortlessly with a twitch of opposite lock. There was no sloppiness to its mannerisms and it stayed completely within its lane as if guided by Teflon wheels on a seamless steel rail.

The feedback through the aluminum pedals, the driver's lone interaction with the throttle and brakes, was equally as remarkable. I would swear the engine's response could not have been quicker had I been opening the ten little throttle bodies by hand. The massive fade-free brakes needed only a gentle, linear push to instantly engage tons of stopping force. Confidence is an understatement.

Driving the LFA was hypnotic.


After nearly 40 minutes of pure driving bliss, I pulled over. It was time to catch my breath, unfasten the thick airbag-equipped three-point seatbelt and take a freshening walk around the composite flagship. I've driven a lot of sports cars in my time, but few had my heart racing like the Lexus LFA. I was grinning ear-to-ear, very likely drooling, and craving so much more.

Further up the road, the pavement straightened out and dry mountains gave way to irrigated farmland. The mile-long straight-aways allowed me to spin the engine flat out and it wailed like a F1 car all the way to its 9,000 rpm redline. I held the engine right there and laughed out loud when I noticed black crows foraging in the plowed fields take flight as the sinister black coupe angrily sliced through the air on its approach.

After a short jaunt northeast across CA-166, we turned right onto Cerro Noroeste Rd, or Forest Highway 95, which eventually bumps into heavily traveled Interstate 5. The road is one of the best driver's roads in the region, with banked curves and excellent visibility ahead. In the winter, storms dump snow and often close the pass - but under warm sunny skies it was nearly flawless. The V10 shrilled as it sucked up the thin mountain air above 6,000 feet elevation. Despite its aggressive workout, the digital water and temperature gauge didn't move a single pixel (credit the LFA's track-oriented dry sump system that allows the coupe to withstand sustained cornering forces in excess of two Gs and massive rear-mounted radiators with electric fans to cool vital fluids).



A quick detour to the driving summit of 8,847-foot Mt. Pinos gave my son and me one last look at the pine trees before the first snowfall. It also presented an opportunity to test the LFA's reflexes. The coupe's ground clearance is just 4.5 inches, which is lower than a Corvette ZR1. That means large pine cones, rocks and even semi-flattened squirrels are potential obstacles. No worries, as a quick electric steering ratio and just 2.3 turns lock-to-lock allow the lightweight LFA to make easy work of the nuisance impediments.

At the bottom of the mountain, we pulled into a Flying J Travel Plaza to grab a snack before heading across the street to the Shell station for yet another load of fuel.

California State Route 138 took us from Gorman to just north of Lancaster, located in the high Mojave Desert, during a 90-minute sprint. With an impressive 22-mile straightaway that disappears over the horizon, and unbelievably light traffic, the road is fast. The LFA seemed to enjoy the quickened pace. Despite outside temperatures climbing to nearly triple digits, the climate control blew ice cold.



Still in Sport mode and enjoying manually shifting (it became natural quite quickly), passing occasional agricultural traffic was accomplished brutally fast thanks to the rev-happy V10. As expected from its naturally aspirated architecture, the engine prefers a bit of spooling before it delivers. Head-slamming passing acceleration is best accomplished after two quick pulls on the left paddle, thereby dropping the engine into fourth gear. When accomplished correctly, the slower vehicle disappears in a wake of blowing dust within seconds. High speed stability, in a vehicle that boasts a top speed just north of 200 mph, was expectedly laudable.

We arrived at In-N-Out Burger in Lancaster to meet Drew Phillips, Autoblog's esteemed photographer, a bit early. The appearance of the boisterous black LFA cleared a few customers out of the hamburger joint, and they gathered around to ask questions. The front fascia, coated with dead bugs smashed onto nearly every surface at high speed, is an entomologist's nightmare. It needed some serious cleaning before the photo shoot - I applaud Drew for bringing his detailing kit.

After shooting the car for a couple hours on a desolate desert road, the brilliant orange sky was soon replaced by darkness. We drove back to Palmdale for yet another tank of premium unleaded (we were burning fuel at the prodigious rate of about 10 miles per gallon during the drive). It was then time to strap ourselves back into the cockpit for the grinding 100-plus-mile freeway drive that would take us across six major Los Angeles arteries. We arrived home late and my son went to bed exhausted. I went back into the garage to sit in the warm LFA and mediate upon its existence.



There are many ways to rationalize the Lexus LFA. It is undeniably a wondrous halo car, but far too rare and pricey to occupy any significant number of dealer showrooms for live traffic. It is also a compelling proof of concept, demonstrating Toyota Motor Corporation's engineering competency with composite manufacturing, lightweight platforms and engine technology. Lastly, it is an impressive supercar under the right conditions, but one whose performance slightly pales when pitted head-to-head against many of today's rivals.

After putting nearly 500 miles on this exotic, I'm endorsing all three of the aforementioned, but adding a fourth.

Unlike most other halo models, proof of concept vehicles and supercars, the Lexus LFA does not make any compromises. It is a pure single-mission driving machine seemingly very content in its very own niche. With the exception of the ho-hum navigation unit, every ounce of carbon-fiber, every square inch of Alcantara and every drop of titanium alloy is contributing to that narrowly focused objective. It is a single-purpose stimulant, formulated specifically to induce euphoria in the driver. Masterfully executed, it is not a supercar - it is a narcotic.