BMW 128i

Sometimes the obvious needs to be re-examined. That became clear to me the other day when I looked at the sticker prices of two vehicles I was driving. The two were radically different in size, function, performance, and status. Yet their as-tested prices came within $1,000 of each other.

For the enthusiast, the price similarity is irrelevant. He buys cars that turn him on, and the monetary value they represent is secondary. Not so the average consumer. Image and performance are important buying considerations, but function and cost are probably top his concerns.

So warning: I’m comparing apples and oranges here, but the analysis may be informative –- and entertaining.

2009 Ford Flex

In this corner is the 2008 BMW 128i Coupe, BMW’s new “entry level” model that sneaks into the lineup below the 3 series. Except for Mercedes (DAI), probably no other manufacturer in the world would consider the 128 entry level. The coupe seats two adults comfortably, four in a pinch, and is styled to resemble its larger BMW cousins. It is powered by the same dual overhead cam, 24-valve, 6-cylinder engine as the 3 series, and is available with a load of exotic equipment — iPod adapter, HD radio, rain sensor. The standard features contributed to a base price of $28,600 and the additional goodies push the as-tested price to $42,396.

In the other corner is the 2009 Ford Flex which, depending on your viewpoint, reinterprets the station wagon, minivan or sport utility vehicle. Some two-and-a-half feet longer than the 1-series, it seats seven people in three rows of seats. Its most notable styling feature is a flat roof, available in a contrasting color that makes the Flex look even longer than it is. Although a Ford, the base price on the all-wheel-drive Flex is a not-insubstantial $36,555 and adding some gotta-have extras -– rear back-up camera, dual-aperture sun roof -– jacked the sticker on my test vehicle up to $43,250.

The Flex is more maneuverable than it looks. Its 3.5L DuratecV-6, introduced in 2006, puts out 265 horsepower; the steering is responsive; and maneuverability is adequate.  But this is still a big vehicle that nobody is going to take joyriding. I got nearly 21 miles per gallon in highway driving with a couple of passengers on board, but more aggressive drivers report in at a less-admirable 15 mpg.

Not surprisingly, the BMW was the favorite for short, single-driver trips. Quick and agile, it was highly entertaining and encouraged recreational driving. The EPA estimates fuel economy at 19 mpg city, 28 highway. But its size limits its utility and its stiff price may make you wish you had popped for the larger 3 series instead. (The four-door 328i’s start at $32,700).  Quite visibly, the Flex offered more car for the money, and I liked its bright, well-tailored interior –- one of the nicest I’ve seen. Still, the Flex is too much car most of the time, except for big families or those with heavy car-pooling duties. I’d find a five-seat Flex easier to live with.

So what does my analysis prove? One, there is a big universe of vehicles out there. Two, they don’t come priced by the yard –- or by the pound. And three, they probably cost more than you think. Luckily, with sales in a recession, it is a buyer’s market for whatever size you are shopping for.

The other weekend, I spent time behind the wheel of an Admiral Blue convertible Rolls that weighs 5,800 pounds and has a total suggested retail price of $442,390 (including gas guzzler tax of $3,000).  It  gets 11 miles per gallon in the city, 18 miles per gallon on the highway.

Which raises the question: What exactly do you use a Drophead Coupe for? Shopping on Worth Avenue in Palm Beach? For sure.  Arriving for a relaxed 18 holes at the Beverly Hills Country Club? Without a doubt.  Stopping at the 7-11 for a quart of milk? Highly dubious.

Practicality aside, the primary virtue of the Rolls is its uniqueness, with features found on no other car.  Some are little more than gimmicks: doors that open backwards and can then be closed by pushing a button; matched umbrellas stashed on either side of the front frame; a hood ornament that disappears from view (and from vandals) with the touch of a button.

Other features on the Rolls are lavish but not noticeably different from similar embellishments found on Mercedes and BMW models priced in the low six figures: matched leather hides for seat surfaces; wood veneers for the interior trim; cast metal switches and levers for the instruments. A few are anachronisms.  Rolls uses analog heating and cooling controls at a time when nearly every other automaker in the world has changed over to digital switches.

Still, some of the excesses are inspired. The sisal floor mats (hemp to you and me) and teakwood hatch cover appear as if they were lifted directly from Ari Onasis’ yacht and look just right in an open car.  (Since you asked, the teakwood is part of an $18,000 option package).

Once you get over the fear of creasing the metal on this 18-foot-long behemoth, it is actually quite easy to drive. After locating the seat controls buried in the center armrest, you make yourself comfortable in the massive chairs, insert the key, ignite the start/stop button, and you take off.  Steering motions are inputted through a thin-rimmed wheel that, while it doesn’t encourage aggressive cornering, is perfectly suited to controlling all that machinery with a light touch.  A single button lowers the thick convertible top, enabling lesser mortals to view your profile while you proceed on your journey. The massive 6.75-liter V-12 engine wafts you along in the quietest, best-riding convertible you’ve ever encountered.

So why all the money?  It  is the exclusivity, darling. Only 222 Rolls reached U.S. customers during the first six months of 2008 and just a quarter of them were dropheads. That’s one for each state of the union, with a couple extra left over for California and Florida. Rolls reports that the waiting list for a new one is one to two years long.  Even in these difficult economic times, price can still be no object.

The words “Toyota” and “fun” are natural opposites, like “government” and “intelligence.” Toyota cars are well-made, durable, sensible, economical – but seldom whimsical, engaging, or thrilling.

So it is with the Scion tC sport coupe that I borrowed for a weekend’s driving. Inlogging more than 150 miles on a combination of highways and back country roads, it never failed to perform reliably. But by the time Sunday evening came around, I felt like our relationship had run its course. There was nothing more that I could learn from the tC.

Admittedly, I could be in the minority here. After all, I’m hardly part of Scion’s target audience. The brand is aimed at much younger buyers and it has been successful at luring them into the Toyota (TM) tent. What’s more, the tC continues to sell briskly after three years on the market - a remarkable achievement in this fashion-conscious segment where popularity has a half-life of 18 months.

Based on its specifications alone, the tC is appealing. It has a big-for-its-class, 2.4 liter engine and a sporty five-speed manual transmission. Now that skyrocketing prices have made us all more conscious of fuel-efficiency, the 20 mpg city (27 mpg highway) is highly appealing. And I have no complaints about the price: $17,000 stripped; $19,661 as tested.

But while the tC should have been a gas to drive, the the fancy graphic display that greeted me when I turned on the sound system didn’t translate into dynamic appeal. The tC didn’t feel particularly quick off the line and, even though my car was equipped with the optional sport muffler ($171), its exhaust note was surprisingly subdued. The front-wheel drive platform, while perfectly competent, isn’t likely to make anybody give up their BMW 1-series. I’d take a hard look at the Honda Civic (HMC) or the more expensive Mini Cooper if I were shopping in this category for a car with more pizzazz.

And there is something else. Friends often ask me what kind of car they should get their teenage children. In theory, the tC would be at the top of the list. Its classic looks will last for years, its Toyota heritage makes it hard to break, and it should have good resale value. But since teen drivers often make mistakes, they should be driving cars that help keep them out of trouble. That means, according to David Champion, the ace car tester at Consumer Reports, young drivers need electronic stability control to keep their car on the road if they go through a turn a little too quickly, and side curtain airbags in case they lose control. The tC has the airbags, but, surprisingly, not the stability control – either as standard equipment or an option.

Whether Toyota will update the tC in a couple of years, or replace it with something else, is unclear given Scion’s unconventional product cycles. Whichever it is, let’s hope that the next version is a little safer – and a little more fun.

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As the first Porsche ever to be classified as a light truck, the Cayenne has been the subject of unending controversy ever since it was introduced in 2002. On the one hand, it has helped Porsche survive a slump in sports car sales and allowed it to remain – car for car – the most profitable auto company on the planet. So far this year, the Cayenne has accounted for a remarkable 42% of Porsche’s U.S. sales.

On the other hand, Cayenne owners display the least loyalty to the Porsche marque. So rather than being counted on to buy one Porsche after another, as 911 owners are, they are more likely to desert the brand when it’s time to buy a new car.

That hasn’t stopped Porsche from continuing to expand the Cayenne model line. To the six-cylinder base model, the V-8 -powered S and the over-the-top Turbo, now comes the GTS. After a weekend behind the wheel, including a late-night dash through the curves of the archaic Saw Mill River Parkway in Westchester, County, New York, I rate it as the best-balanced and most desirable Cayenne.

With its 405-hp engine and $70,195 base price, the GTS slots in above the S and below the Turbo in the price and power hierarchy. The exterior paint and interior fittings are executed to a high level – though no one would confuse a Porsche interior with a Range Rover – and the performance was breathtaking without feeling excessive. The Turbo that I drove several years ago seemed to be constantly straining to go faster than I wanted, whereas the GTS always seemed to be under my control. The enormous 21-inch wheels and tires stick to the road without being obtrusive, while the suspension and handling felt perfectly matched with each other, providing a comfortable ride without excessive leans or dips.

While nobody needs a two-and-a-half ton sport utility vehicle that gets to 100 mph in 15 seconds and gobbles a gallon of gas for every 13 miles it travels in town, it is possible to rationalize the purchase of a Cayenne. Think of it as the family man’s Porsche. There’s room inside for everyone, including the dog, unlike, say, a Cayman or Boxster.

The debate over what makes a true Porsche will begin anew next spring, when Porsche’s first four-door car, the Panamera, makes its debut at the Geneva motor show. And the long-term impact of the Cayenne on Porsche’s premium standing is still to be determined. What happens if Cayenne owners keep deserting the brand and nobody shows up to replace them? For now, though, Cayenne GTS owners should just thank their good fortune – and find plenty of open roads where they can continue to enjoy it.