Just arriving on the market, Ford’s Fusion Hybrid is being acclaimed as the best of its breed.

Jim Healy, veteran car reviewer for USA Today, called it “the best gasoline-electric hybrid yet.” Automobile declared it “a better car” than the Camry hybrid, offering “a compelling combination of exceptional economy, acceptable performance, and a high degree of livability.”

Anecdotal support for those claims came from a couple of Detroit-area parking valets who offered their unsolicited observations when I was there to test drive the Fusion. Presumably jaundiced from seeing the best of Motor City iron, they nevertheless raved about the hybrid’s quiet running in electric mode and overall good looks. (Then again, they may be accustomed to stroking the drivers of new cars in the belief that they work for their manufacturers and may express their gratitude with bigger tips).

I’m not going to argue with any of them. Restyled for 2010 with new nose and butt jobs, the Fusion is a handsome American midsize car that is robust, roomy, and reliable. You would not be embarrassed to drive it anywhere.

The dashboard reflects a bit more of Ford’s truck heritage than I’d like to see in a passenger car, with strong vertical and horizontal lines. And my preproduction test car had some wide gaps that an engineer assured me would be corrected when the Fusion reaches dealers.

The interface between the electric and gasoline engines in the Fusion is as seamless as any other, with no noticeable shudder when the software shifts the drivetrain between the two systems. The Japanese may have invented hybrid drive but Ford is certainly refining it.

For the civic-minded, supporting hybrids because they minimize environmental impact is recommendation enough for the Fusion. More literal people like me will want to take a closer look at the tradeoff between the higher price of the hybrid system – $3,200 in this instance – and the improvement in fuel economy.

The EPA rates the Fusion at 41 miles gallon city/36 miles per gallon highway. But as they say in the ads, your mileage will differ. A couple of hundred miles of driving on the pancake-flat (if potholed) roads of southeastern Michigan yielded me only a smidgen over 34 mpg.

I have to admit, I wasn’t paying particular attention to the fuel-saving prompts on the Fusion’s elaborate instrument panel, nor was I being especially smart about avoiding sudden acceleration and panic braking.

Nonetheless – while that is nearly a 50% improvement over the 23 mpg in the gasoline-only Fusion, it may not be enough to compensate for the higher cost, reduced trunk space, and limited availability.

If, on the other hand, you want to patriotically support the only American car company not currently requesting aid from the federal government, then the Fusion is for you.

When evaluating a car as crammed with technology as the 750Li, it is tempting to describe it by simply listing the features.

There are the shock absorbers that automatically adjust themselves to the ride setting and road speed. And there is the side view camera, whose fender-mounted lenses allow the driver to see both ways when pulling out of a narrow passageway. Then there is the driver assistance package that combines blind spot detection, lane departure warning, and automatic high beam dimming.

But any car, especially a BMW, has to be more than the sum of its parts, and with an as-tested price of $100,320, it has to be a tidy sum as well.

The last generation 7-series wasn’t. All the gadgets and gizmos didn’t add up, and the clumsy driver interface, with the dash-mounted shift lever and notorious i-drive instrument controller, added to the feeling of technology overload. The driver felt like he was fighting the car, not steering it.

BMW has refined that experience in the new 7, putting the driver back in control. The shift lever has returned to its rightful place on the center tunnel, and the i-drive has matured into a rational, learnable piece of equipment. The driver feels comfortable, not confused.

Overcoming those obstacles made driving the 7 an enormously satisfying experience. So it was with anticipation rather than dread that I settled into the 7’s infinitely cosseting driver’s seat (unlike most makers, BMW makes its own seats and considers them a core competence). I hit the stop-start button, squeezed the shift lever and ignited the 4.4 liter, 32-valve turbocharged V-8. The combination of immense torque and dampened silence was intoxicating. The V-8 was both quiet and powerful, capable of launching the 4,700 lb. car to 60 miles per hour in 5.2 seconds, according to BMW.

I didn’t verify those 0 to 60 numbers but was constantly having to ease off the accelerator to keep my speed within reasonably legal limits. I kept myself entertained navigating the screens on the audio system, changing the look of the heads-up display and experimenting with various comfort and safety settings.

I’m still not sold on lane departure warning, since I tend to stray out of my lane with some frequency, and like other cars, the BMW tends to lock the passenger doors more often than seems strictly necessary. But those are minor quibbles.

The 750Li feels like too much car for the running of daily errands. But for that occasional business trip between cities or on a vacation jaunt, I can’t imagine anything more enjoyable. Even when it was not in motion, it looked great sitting in my driveway, its titanium silver metallic paint glimmering in the sunlight.

Is the Hyundai Genesis the best $36,000 car sold in the U.S.? For my money, it is, and I’m not alone. The 50-plus independent jurors of the North American Car of the Year awarded it first place this year. Very likely, it is the best car sold in the U.S. for under $40,000.

There is a little game I play with myself. After driving a new car for awhile, I try to guess the sticker price.

I usually guess lower than the actual number because test cars come laden with options that aren’t immediately visible to the naked eye. With some high-end German cars, I’ve been light by $8,000 or $9,000.

With the Genesis, I guessed high. Here is a car with the lines of an international luxury car, a slick interior with innovative leather trim on the instrument panel and a smoothly powerful V-6 engine. All the usual goodies were included, like shift-yourself automatic transmission, electronic stability control, and side-curtain airbags.

If the Hyundai wore a different badge on its trunk, I could easily see it selling for thousands more.

For real bargain shoppers, there is a $33,000 Genesis available, but the additional three grand gets you nicer wheels, leather and a sunroof. My only complaint was squeaks in the dashboard that arose at highway speeds over rough surfaces.

The Genesis is just one reason why Hyundai sales are actually on the rise this year. Hyundai, its sister brand Kia, Subaru and Smart are the only manufacturers to show improvement through the first two months. Consumers, it would seem, are shopping for value, not for the cut-rate prices and cheap financing offered by larger automakers.

Speaking of value, there is no need to pop for the more powerful V-8 if you go Genesis shopping. The 290 horsepower V-6 scoots the Genesis to 60 miles per hour in 6.3 seconds, according to Edmunds.com, and delivers plenty of power at any speed. The EPA rates the fuel economy at 18 miles per gallon city, 27 mpg highway.

There is a moral behind Hyundai’s success for anybody who is willing to listen. It has spent the last two decades rebuilding its reputation after disastrously entering the U.S. market in 1986 with disposable cars that it inflicted on poorly-capitalized buyers.

Hyundai has earned its good name by carefully listening to what customers want and then delivering more than they expect. There is nothing quick or easy about building a business that way, and the pressure to perform has taken its toll on the Korean automaker’s American executives.

But customers are the winners, and the Genesis is the proof.

Is it sapele pommele or pommele sapele? And what is it, exactly?

The list of options for the Cadillac CTS AWD includes “sapele pommele wood. That doesn’t exactly roll off your tongue the way “zebrano wood” used to when Cadillac offered it a few years ago, but it does offer lots of opportunities for one-upmanship.

“My new CTS was tested at the Nurburgring and it has sapele pommele wood, a highly figured brown wood from Africa, on the dashboard.” How can you top that?

Caution is advised when flaunting the names of obscure African woods. According to some references, the proper name reverses the two words, as in “pommele sapele.” But I digress.

The Cadillac CTS is routinely cited by General Motors as one of the three or four best cars it makes and is thus one of the prime reasons why the company should be fed enough government loans to keep it afloat. Independent evaluators generally concur. Consumer Reports’ car guys declare it “as capable as its German rivals.”

After several days of testing, I found no reason to disagree. Except for the styling, which is a little out there for my taste, the CTS is a competitive product in a very competitive segment, going up against such stalwarts as the BMW 3-series and the Audi A4.

What Cadillac brings to the party is more interior space, American muscle (a 3.6 liter, 304-horsepower V-6 in my test car) and an attractive price. Base sticker price for the tester was $40,100, though options like the performance package, performance luxury package and a dual opening sun roof kicked it up to $50,995.  All wheel drive costs a mere $900, adds less than 100 pounds in weight and barely impacts fuel economy.  For drivers in harsh climates, that sounds like a no-brainer to me.

Where I felt let down was first in the power delivery – it was not quite seamless, even though the 0-60 miles-per-hour time is quoted at 5.9 seconds. I expected to feel more oomph. Despite dual exhausts, the Cadillac didn’t make the right noises, either. I could have enjoyed more auditory entertainment. And either the all-wheel drive or the 18-inch all-season tires had a hard time handling Massachusetts mud. A dirt road expedition to the southwestern corner of the state found me slithering sideways a couple of times.  Testing on other surfaces, though, might lead to different results.

Like everything else these days, CTS sales are way off, but it remains the second most popular passenger car GM makes (after the Pontiac G6) that doesn’t wear the Chevrolet bow tie. I’m looking forward to my next drive in a CTS: the high performance V model with a 556-hp, supercharged V-8.

I hope  a couple of CTS-Vs are moved into  the Washington, D.C. press fleet. They would really blow the socks off the boys from Treasury before they sit down to decide whether GM deserves more government help – or should be allowed to slide into bankruptcy.

General Motors is closing in on two historically significant moments in its 100-year history – both of which should be recognized by potential customers.

March 31st is GM’s deadline for convincing the federal government that it deserves another multi-billion dollar loan to keep it out of bankruptcy.

And April 1 is the day that Bob Lutz, vice chairman for global product development, retires from active duty.

In the future, we may be referring to GM cars built after those dates as pre- and post-nationalization. Or Lutz cars – and all the others.

The Pontiac G8 GXP under review embodies all the qualities that we have come to associate with Lutz’S work, starting with his Dodge Viper 20 years ago: raw power, rough edges, good value.

The Pontiac concept is a simple one: Stuff a 6.2 liter, 402-horsepower Corvette V-8 engine into a made-in-Australia G8 sedan, stiffen up the suspension, add some identifying decals and badges, and shove it out the door with a base price of $39,995.

My test car carried just two options: a $900 sunroof and a $695 six-speed manual transmission. Good calls on both. Much as I hate riding the clutch while driving out of a subterranean Manhattan garage or chugging along in rush hour traffic, I love the way that a manual transmission connects the driver to the car and makes him feel like he’s in control. It is a feeling you simply can’t get with an automatic transmission, even with shift-it-yourself.

Pontiac adds to the tactile pleasures of the GXP with a wildly-contoured steering wheel that creates several comfortable places to rest your hands. In addition to the usual bumps at 10 p.m. and 2 a.m., there are concave places to rest your palms as well. It’s the biggest improvement in steering wheels since heat.

Pontiac promises you can get from zero to 60 miles per hour in under five seconds in the GXP, a calculation I have no reason to doubt, though I wouldn’t attempt it in my neighborhood.

You don’t see too many Pontiacs in my neck of the woods either; like Buick, it has become a regional brand, with few fans on either coast.

So there isn’t likely to be much cross-shopping between the GXP and, say, a BMW M5, even though functional abilities of the two cars are similar. Still, this a fitting memorial to the reign of Lutz. He frequently expressed a desire to turn Pontiac into GM’s BMW, and on the way out the door he has come the closest yet .

As to whether you should buy a car from a company flirting with bankruptcy, that is another question.

In response to heightened awareness about fuel economy, BMW is bringing diesel engines to the U.S. for the first time in several decades. The engines are available in two models, including the 335d sedan in the heart of BMW’s lineup.

Naturally, BMW executives are anxious to discover how Americans will view these diesels, which Europeans have so ardently embraced. The results are just beginning to trickle in but here’s a prediction: They will love the performance but be perplexed by the economics.

If you have been following the advances of diesel-powered vehicles made by Mercedes-Benz and Volkswagen, you know that modern diesels aren’t any noisier, smellier or slower than gasoline engines.

My 335d test car, painted in a boy-racer Montego Blue Metallic, proved the point. It was quiet, smooth, peppy and easy to start in cold weather. Zero to 60 miles per hour arrives in 5.7 seconds, according to Car & Driver, and its time for the quarter mile was measured at 14.2 seconds, vs. 13.5 seconds for the gasoline-powered 335i. Diesel engines arer renowned for their low-end torque, and this one is no exception.

No complaints about performance then. But the tab for my oil burner started at $44,725 (including delivery charge), nearly $4,000 more than the conventional 335i. With the usual bells and whistles (including $550 for the paint job), the total came to $51,445. Appreciation of modern diesel technology does not come cheaply.

And sad to say, you are not going to make up for the higher starting price with savings on fuel. The combined fuel economy of the diesel is 27 miles per gallon vs. 20 mpg for the 335i. I even managed to average a robust 35 mpg during several hundred miles of mostly highway driving.

But the diesel fuel premium where I hang out in northwestern Connecticut is 50 cents to 60 cents a gallon. You can blame some of that on a shortage of refinery capacity and some on federal tax policy, but it is a big economic hurdle to overcome. Add to that the inconvenience of not having diesel fuel available at every stop, and its demerits add up.

You may find other reasons to love a diesel: the sense of owning something different, an appreciation for advanced technology, or just a desire to drive further between fuel stops. As environmental concerns grow and mass-market manufacturers like Honda come forward with their own diesel engines, you may see the popularity of diesels turn up.

Until then, they are likely to remain exotic but minor players as the auto industry struggles to find a durable solution to the issues of climate change and dwindling oil reserves. But give BMW credit – again – for trying something new.