2011 Subaru Impreza Wrx Sti Limited Sedan 4-door 2.5l on 2040-cars

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2015 Subaru WRX STI

In December, I put the 2015 Subaru WRX through its paces along some incredibly challenging roads in northern California, and to say I walked away impressed wouldn't really do my feelings justice. Say what you will about the way it looks, the new 'Rex is an awesome car, full stop. When it comes to all-weather sports sedans that won't break the bank, it's very tough to beat the WRX.
But then there's its big brother - the STI. The winged wonder. The rally superstar. The car that, to many - and to me - represents all that is right in the world of dirt-and-gravel thrills. Sharp as the WRX has always been, the hardcore STI model has always been a little bit sharper. But in recent years, that hasn't always been a good thing. What I've liked most about the WRX is the fact that it's not an always-on attack missile - it can be forgiving, easy to drive, and if I'm honest, reasonably comfortable. Because of that, in the WRX/STI debate, I've preferred the former for daily driving activities. I've always had a thing for That Wing, but in the outgoing car, the STI was never really far and away a more rewarding car to drive, and it offered exactly zero upgrades in terms of comfort or refinement.
The 2015 WRX is easily the finest example of Subaru's hot hatch sedan to date. But what happens when you try to turn the dial past 11? I headed back to NorCal, including a stop at the historic Mazda Raceway Laguna Seca, to find out.

2018 Subaru BRZ Quick Spin Review | Curves required

I had a 2018 Subaru BRZ Limited with a six-speed manual and half a day to play on wet, windy roads hemmed by pine trees in the foothills of a massive mountain range. But Michigan was on my mind. Some cars work everywhere. Michigan's the perfect place to find those that do: The roads are flat and pockmarked, and the seasonal extremes are brutal. It's easy to love a car on one of those bucket-list Alpine passes, but on Michigan roads the car has to work hard to win you over. For example, the MX-5 Miata works in Michigan just fine. It's fun in all conditions in which you can get the rear tires to hook up, and some that you can't. It cheerfully entertains in traffic, on city streets, undulating but uninteresting country roads. Some grand tourers work perfectly well there, too, soaking up enough punishment from the atrocious roadways without battering the occupants. The more voluptuous Aston Martins are particularly good at this trick, and they're plenty entertaining to cruise around in — or mash it flat after a scan of a country intersection shows nothing doing for at least 50 miles in every direction. These cars have more than just compliance — they have a subjective, elusive charm in suboptimal conditions. And the 86 twins, well, aren't Miatas. The car isn't lacking in dynamic ability, of course, but there's a flatness, a one-dimensionality to it. It's simply suffocated, starving for a little bit more. It doesn't have to be this way. Put the 86 in a better situation and its foibles recede but don't disappear. Straight, pock-marked slabs are the death of the thing. So I grabbed one out West, in Washington state where I now live, and fed it revs and curves until I was satisfied that the BRZ works as intended when you keep it happy. And when it's happy, you're happy. The BRZ was on high-performance summer tires, and some of the best roads in Washington are up in the hills currently blanketed by slush and ice, so that was a nonstarter. But there's a windy, weedy little farm road bending through a river valley just 20 minutes from my house. It's got lots of sudden, blind bends — not to mention working farms — so it's not the place to exercise a Corvette Z06. But there are enough turns you can see all the way through to make it fun, and three unbelievable uphill hairpins right at the end. We're talking 15 mph posted speed limit turns, and those signs aren't far off.

Catch the rally bug in one easy step at Wales Rally GB

You should go watch a rally. Yes, you. And by "a rally," I mean pretty much anything that could be considered a rally. Is there a grassroots rallycross event near you featuring some $500 beater Subarus mucking about in a field? Go to that. Or a full-blown WRC event. Set your coffeemaker to kick out some extra-potent brew, because you'll probably have to wake up early and drive for a bit to see something. But trust me, it'll be worth it. In Europe, with hundreds of events concentrated in a relatively small geographical area, in all sorts of environments (snow, forest, dirt, you name it), this is a lot easier. North America is huge. Your TV is closer, your couch is comfortable. That's the challenge for hooking new rally fans in America. So, why get off your tail? I travelled to Wales, the tiny windswept country on the western edge of Great Britain, to find out. First, we stopped by David Higgins' rally school, parked at the top of a sheep-studded ridge in the middle of nowhere. This was a two-part trip. The first bit was a visit to David Higgins' rally school, parked at the top of a sheep-studded ridge in the middle of nowhere. The second part was the main event: watching the headline rally event in the UK – WRC Wales Rally GB – in what amounted to a tropical storm at winter temperatures. Despite the challenges, it was one of those trips that left me smiling the whole time. At the Higgins Rally School, we had a very abbreviated experience, essentially the highlights of a multi-day course condensed into a few short hours. The first was learning how to do J-turns on mud, in an old UK-market Ford Escort ... with right-hand drive, and so, a left-hand manual shift, which made it much harder to nail the technique with the "wrong" hand. Then, it was off for a lap with an instructor in the passenger seat in a rear-drive-converted Subaru Impreza WRX – flying through gravel, mud, within spitting distance of piles of logs. That was exhilarating. Or at least, it was, until the ride-alongs with the pros. Jimmy McRae, a storied driver and father to the late and even more storied Colin McRae, was behind the wheel. The car was an early 1990s Prodrive-built Legacy, a real works car, and it made demonic noises as McRae flew through the woods, mostly sideways.