2003 Vw Golf on 2040-cars

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Ford Mustang Mach-E fails Sweden's moose test

The infamous moose test has claimed another casualty. This time it's the Ford Mustang Mach-E AWD Long Range, which was tested in an electric four-way alongside the Tesla Model Y, Hyundai Ioniq 5 and Skoda Enyaq iV (an electric utility vehicle closely related to the Volkswagen ID.4 that is sold in the United States). According to the Swedish testers at Teknikens Varld, Ford's electric car not only failed to hit the speed necessary for a passing grade, it didn't perform well at slower speeds, either. To pass the outlet's moose test, a car has to complete a rapid left-right-straight S-shaped pattern marked by cones at a speed of at least 72 km/h (44.7 miles per hour). The test is designed to mimic the type of avoidance maneuver a driver would have to take in order to avoid hitting something that wandered into the road, which in Sweden may be a moose but could just as easily be a deer or some other member of the animal kingdom elsewhere in the world, or possibly a child or car backing into the motorway. Not only is the maneuver very aggressive, it's also performed with weights belted into each seat and more weight added to the cargo area to hit the vehicle's maximum allowable carrying capacity. The Mustang Mach-E only managed to complete the moose test at 68 km/h (42.3 mph), well below the passing-grade threshold. Even at much lower speeds, Teknikens Varld says the Mach-E (which boasts the highest carrying capacity and was therefore loaded with more weight than the rest of the vehicles tested in this quartet) is "too soft in the chassis" and suffers from "too slow steering." Proving that it is indeed possible to pass the test, the Hyundai and Skoda completed the maneuver at the 44.7-mph figure required for a passing grade and the Tesla did it at 46.6 mph, albeit with less weight in the cargo area. It's not clear whether other versions of the Mustang Mach-E would pass the test. It's also unknown if Ford will make any changes to its chassis tuning or electronic stability control software, as some other automakers have done after a poor performance from Teknikens Varld, to improve its performance in the moose test. Related video:

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.

This Or That: 1987 VW Vanagon Syncro vs. 1987 Land Rover Defender [w/poll]

As I scoured auction sites and classified ads for the perfect vehicle to take into battle with Autoblog Associate Editor Brandon Turkus, I knew I needed to find something unique. You see, I'm currently 0-2 at winning a round of This or That, in which two of our editors agree on a category, choose a side, and argue it out over a (mostly) friendly chain of emails.
The first time we did this, my chosen Fiat 500 Abarth took about a third of the popular vote in our reader poll. The second time, my lovely 1980 Oldsmobile 442 did just a little bit better against a 1989 BMW 635 CSi. Despite holding the opinion that my automotive choices, though perhaps a little bit more... obscure than my fellow editors, are still better, an outright win would go a long way toward boosting my vehicular self worth a few notches upward.
With all of that out of the way, even if three isn't my lucky number after all, I go into battle against Brandon knowing full well that I've made the perfect choice: A 1987 Volkswagen Vanagon Syncro. My rough-and-tumble van/'ute has a formidable opponent in the form of a 1987 Land Rover Defender, which, truth be told, is exactly what I was expecting from Turkus, a self-proclaimed Rover aficionado.