I Made This Price Irresistible, Let's Do Business Today! Call Kurt 540-892-7467 on 2040-cars

Auto blog

Did Lexus make a BMW? Or did BMW make a Lexus? This and other 2017 surprises

It's that time of year again. The calendar is about to reach its end, Star Trek Cats 2018 is about to take its place, and I'm reflecting about all the cars that graced my driveway this year or summoned me to exotic places. You know, like Stuttgart or Phoenix. In 2017, I drove at least 57, and as I perused the list of them, I started to notice a common refrain: "This car surprised me." Most were pleasant surprises, but there were a few head scratchers and facepalms for good measure. In both cases, it was generally the result of car companies seemingly trying to break out of an existing mold. Nowhere was that more apparent than the pair of Lexuses slathered in Infrared paint: The LS 500 that left me this week and the LC 500 that was my favorite car of 2017. Though Lexus has been trying to shake its crusty, gold-packaged reputation for some time now, its efforts always seemed like an old man choosing Hollister to redo his wardrobe after realizing it hasn't been updated since 1987. I fell in love with the LC, genuinely floored by its near-perfect take on the GT. It's characterful in sound, appearance and tactility. It was at home in the city, in the mountain and on the open road. It was both comfortable and thrilling, and after driving the mechanically related LS 500, I can report that the LC's talents aren't an outlier. The LS 500's turbo V6 may make different noises than the LC's naturally aspirated V8, but it nevertheless invigorates the cabin when the car is placed in Sport+ mode. The steering is truly communicative, body motions are kept in miraculous check, and I absolutely forgot I was in an enormous luxury limo ... and a Lexus one at that. It was everything that the BMW 530e was not. I drove that on the exact same roads and was utterly bored the entire time. Generally doughy, lifeless steering, more distant than Planet 9. And no, the plug-in hybrid powertrain had nothing to do with that. At least it shouldn't. The Porsche Panamera S e-Hybrid I also drove this year proves that, as do the Hyundai Ioniqs, which are surprisingly adept and fun little cars regardless of what powers their wheels (Hyundai + hybrid = fun really blew me away). I would drive that Lexus LS F Sport over the BMW 5 Series any day of the week, which seems like a shocking thing to say in relation to either car. While Lexus is seemingly breaking out of its old crusty mold, BMW seems to be climbing into one.

2016 BMW X4 M40i Quick Spin

There's only so much you can do to disguise the SUV-ness of a crossover. The physics are simply against it. Essentially a jacked-up wagon, the X4 is heavier and has a higher center of gravity than a 3 Series longroof. No matter how many badges or what sort of fancy suspension you throw at it, you can't defy the essential laws that govern the mechanics of the universe. This isn't to say that BMW is standing in the surf, ordering the waves to roll backward. The X4 is a valiant, if misguided effort, in injecting some sportiness into a very niche vehicle. The X6 M, a "full" M Division offering, does a decent job at this: it's quick like a rocket-assisted hippopotamus, and uses some black magic to stay planted. The X4 M40i, a less-full-blown M Performance model, is less dramatic, and less compelling. Here's the operating theory: this crossover won't sell on its dynamic charms, however superior to its X4 xDrive28i and xDrive35i siblings. It'll sell because it's the top of the X4 heap, the most expensive of the three ($58,795!), and with the most "M" badges. Anyone looking for utility and strong handling dynamics should examine a 3 Series xDrive Sports Wagon with the M Sport Package and the $700 Adaptive M Suspension, pocket the $10k, and marvel at the size and shape of the cargo area. Driving Notes: This is the same engine as seen in the brand new M2, making 355 horsepower and 343 pound-feet of torque in this application. That's 10 hp down from the M2. There's lots of torque, and with an intentional stab of the go-pedal, this X4 will scoot. The eight-speed auto is great heading through the ratio range – its shifts are swift and sharp. The paddles will hold gears to redline in manual mode, but would you really want to? We ignored them. The adaptive dampers have their work cut out for them. This is a 4,235-pound vehicle – a full 340 pounds heavier than a diesel, all-wheel-drive, 3 Series Sports Wagon, and 7.6 inches taller – and this is where physics comes into play. Slalom-like quick corners produce an uncomfortable jacking effect as the outer wheels unload and transfer weight to the other side. It handles well, for a hippo. Since hustling the X4 M40i is possible but not all that rewarding, know that it's very pleasant in Comfort mode. The extra oomph is realized as a thick, broad, rich torque band, and that's never a bad thing around town. It's nicely dampened in Comfort, without much wallow.

Why won't automakers slap on a turbo badge anymore?

Where have all the turbos gone? Not the actual pieces that go in the engine, mind you, those are everywhere these days as automakers downsize cylinder counts and boost efficiency and CO2 claims. But the turbo badges and fanfare are missing. Back when turbos were something to get excited about there was "turbo-driven," "turbonium," and "The Turbo Zone," among other silly lines. But now that basically every car is getting some sort of boost even on the lowliest trims, automakers are almost sliding in the turbos under the radar. Or if you look at some of the nomenclature, pretending they don't exist at all. The 911 Turbo badge shows where the car goes from being sane to lunatic. It's an important border. The latest automaker to hide that it has boosted the turbo presence is Porsche with the 2017 911 lineup. Even the standard Carrera models now get turbocharged flat-six engines, meaning the 911 Turbo models aren't quite as special as they once were. Porsche is in a sticky situation with this. The 911 Turbo, after all, signifies where the 911 family takes off from being a sports car and becomes the Ferrari fighter. The 911 Turbo badge shows where the car goes from being sane to lunatic. It's an important border, but now Porsche has crossed it and is trying to downplay the fact. There are a lot of exaggerations with displacement badges today, with claims the 2.0-liter turbo four in a Mercedes C Class equates to a naturally aspirated 3.0-liter six to make a C300. Volvo is pretty far up there, too, saying an XC90 T8 means V8 power, even though it's a 2.0-liter turbocharged and supercharged four with electric assist. I don't know why BMW can't just call the car a 330i Turbo, rather than inflating the numbers up to 340i. Saab tried all of this back in the '90s when it decided to turbocharge its entire lineup, from light pressure units all the way up to models actually called "Saab 9-3 HOT" (for high-output turbo). But then the brand deleted any external reference to the turbo under the hood and people wondered why they were buying a $42,000 four-cylinder convertible. And that didn't turn out well. Even though these turbo replacements often make more power than their naturally aspirated predecessors, they're very different engines. People knew something changed when they exchanged their leased 328i with a 3.0-liter six for a 328i with a 2.0-liter turbo four.