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The world’s maddest battles usually earn a brief sobriquet: Red vs. Blue, Holyfield-Tyson, Lingerie Bowl. Although the battle we’ll describe today isn’t finished, the clash of HUMMER vs. Any Decent Off-roader – especially HUMMER vs. Jeep – has made so much noise on Autoblog alone that we decided it was time to investigate. Not having a Jeep at our disposal, we pitted an H2 against the Toyota Landcruiser on three trails in the California desert to find out if either of them had any quit – or if they’d keep going but complain about it. Follow the jump for the answer we came up with, and check out the gallery of off-road shenanigans below.
Quite a few folks out there don’t believe that HUMMERs are fully capable off-road vehicles. Most of those who have actually driven HUMMERs off-road believe the opposite is true… and they often get called names because of that. We’ve owned an H2 that saw dirt once, driven the H3 and H3T, ridden shotgun in an H3 Alpha at the Baja 500, and pre-run the first section of the Baja course in an H2 modified with nothing other than bolt-on shocks. We’ve not only seen what HUMMERs can do, we did it. We’re believers.

But just to make sure, we threw the H2 in with a venerable off-roader, the Toyota Landcruiser, on neutral ground. True, the U.S. Landcruiser isn’t sold the same way, nor to the same crowd, it once was. But beneath the running boards and mudflaps and parking radar and leather interior and Lexus-like steering, it’s the same truck that the U.N. still uses to lumber all over Middle-of-Nowhere-stan. That means: it’s still one tough Beverly Hills pastry shop cookie.

This was the brief: two trucks, two days, three trails. To ensure objectivity, our companions were a writer and a photographer from one of the major buff books, both experienced off-roaders and HUMMER-dissers. The photographer, on getting in the HUMMER, said “I can feel my sperm count rising. I think I should go impregnate my wife.”

The point wasn’t to put the trucks to the ultimate test. Besides the fact that there were time and safety limits, having to call Toyota and say “You can pick your truck up in Satan’s Ditch, don’t worry, it’ll be there whenever you get to it…” is not the kind of thing that makes you friends with press fleet coordinators.

The point was to run the trucks over 4WD-required trails and see how they did. Although the Southern California desert offers a range of terrain, since neither truck is made for Rubicon lumbering or tight spaces we were dealing with mostly wide open tracks, albeit ones that offered a huge number of dips, ruts, rocks, sand, tight approach and departure angles, some serious sideways leaning, and a couple of giggle-inducing inclines.

We also ended up dealing with Nightmare Gulch, but we’ll get to that in a moment.

In one corner, we have the Toyota Landcruiser. Its 5.7-liter V8 puts out 381 hp and 401 lb-ft. through a 6-speed automatic. The scarlet steed rides on double wishbones with coil springs and a 43-mm stabilizer bar up front, and a 4-link suspension with coil springs and a 25-mm stabilizer bar out back. The total package comes in at a gross vehicle weight of 7,257 pounds.

The H2 uses a 6.2-liter V8 with 393 hp and 415 lb-ft. running through a 6-speed automatic. It gets an independent front suspension with torsion bars, monotube gas shocks and a 36-mm stabilizer bar up front, while the backside gets a 5-link suspension with self-leveling air springs, monotube gas shocks, and a 32-mm stabilizer bar. Gross vehicle weight: 8,600 pounds.

The first major difference between the trucks were the tires: the H2 came with 315/70 R17 all-terrain rubber. The Landcruiser, luxury boat that it is, came with 285/60 R18 mud-and-snow rated tires. Though it might not look like an equitable challenge, surprisingly, the tires really weren’t a factor.

The other major difference was the Get Out of Trouble mode each truck employed. In fact, the whole thing came down to a battle of two dials: the locking rear diff dial in the H2 and the crawl dial in the Landcruiser. The H2’s central and rear lockers combine to get all the power down on the ground that they can in order to get the truck unstuck. The Landcruiser’s system uses the brakes in a way akin to ABS, but this time they prevent wheelspin, not wheel lock. Instead of feeling the pedal’s dull thud as you do when ABS kicks in, you hear the brakes rapid-fire clamp-and-disengage. It sounds like a giant spring has been given a tremendous whack and is flopping back into position. Or like the truck is about to break in half.

But it works, and it got the Landcruiser out of every tender position we put it in. In fact, you could turn the dial – it has three speed settings – and let the truck do all the work. All you need to do is stay alive. And steer.

The three trails we covered are in the El Paso Mountains of Red Rock State Park: Last Chance Canyon at 10.6 miles with a Difficulty Rating (DR) of 5, Cudahy Camp at 7.2 miles with a DR of 4, and Opal Canyon Road at 6.3 miles with a DR of 5.

The first section of Last Chance Canyon is soft sand and gravel. Neither truck liked it, but if you were judicious with your lines and able to hold your speed, you made good time. If you stopped, you got your first lesson in the two trucks’ different throttle responses. The H2’s throttle has an even, steady progression and a comfortable measure of travel between wheels stopped and wheels turning. You knew when the power was about to be laid down, and there was even enough pedal movement to accurately modulate wheelspin.

The Landcruiser accelerator, in 4W High, was binary – sitting in the sand at a stop, slowly depressing the accelerator would result in churning rubber and flying sand. Nothing in between. That’s apparently the “Road” setting. But put the truck in 4W Low and the throttle response is much more elastic, giving you more control over the power. All you have to do is then remember to put the ‘Cruiser back in 4W High when you’re up to speed again.

That sand also gave us a first test of the ‘Cruiser’s crawl system. Coming around a slow corner, the scarlet pimpernel bogged itself when the back wheels dug into the sand – in 4W High – after traversing some rocks. Coming up behind in the H2, we put the great white hope into 4W Low and took a different line through a run of boulders. Before we figured out what to do with the ‘Cruiser, one of our companions said of the H2, “It really is the off-roader for idiots. You can just point it somewhere and run over things.”

But he didn’t mean it as a compliment. It was then we realized this is simply how it was going to be with the HUMMER. It does everything you want it to, but instead of “capable,” it’s “the off-roader for idiots.”

We put the ‘Cruiser into crawl mode, listened to the rapidfire springing action of the brakes, and what do you know, the truck pulled itself out of the mire. Contrary to how it might sound, the ‘Cruiser doesn’t lurch while this is happening – it’s all quite steady, like riding a horse as it picks its way up a rocky slope. Again, all you have to do is not fall off. It’s electronics vs. mechanicals in this case, and assuming the electrics don’t go fritzing, it’s cheaper, lighter, and less expensive than putting a differential back there to achieve the same effect.

This would be the experience for most of the two days: H2 grunt vs. the Landcruiser softshoe. Because the ‘Cruiser is really sold for road duty, the running boards took a beating on the rocks (sorry, Toyota), and the smaller tires meant traversing ruts and obstacles was an affair requiring constant attention and finesse that we mostly managed to pull off without incident – key word being “mostly” (again, sorry, Toyota). The ‘Cruiser’s approach and departure angles are almost a full ten degrees less than the H2’s. But the ‘Cruiser is still the badass dirt runner that it was created to be.

Proof of such came at one point on Opal Canyon Road, when the trail made a dropoff 90-degree left turn. The H2’s rear right wheel came a fair ways off the ground, but the ‘Cruiser – making the same turn a couple of times, just to make sure – with its solid rear axle and Panhard rod, lifted up only a couple of inches. Although it doesn’t look like it, the travel is immense, and the vehicle is stupendously sure-footed.

On the cliff-like incline facing that descending turn, yet another demonstration occured of how the two vehicles deal with nature. Throw the H2 into 4W Low and listen to the V8 rumble as it clobbers the hill. Throw the ‘Cruiser into crawl and listen to Puccini while pretending you’re Don Quixote atop Rocinante. Everybody wins.

But remember, we did say that this was the experience for most of the two days. We went a gulch too far at the end, winding up in a zig-zagging wash right out of a The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Only this wasn’t merely ugly, it was hideous, gorgon-like. We would find out later that we were in Nightmare Gulch.

The Gulch is nothing but rocks, was probably carved out by a god made of rocks, and meant as a natural limestone and granite womb that would give birth to new families of rocks every few hours. And the entire thing is coated with sand. It’s like Disneyland. If Disneyland were made of rocks. And coated with sand.

It was the kind of thing we meant to avoid, but since we were there, and the trail’s end was just one sweet mile-and-a-half through the maze, we tried it. And yes, we came face-to-face – or rather, body-panel-to-rock-wall, with the full-sized SUVs’ kryptonite: skinny places.

The H2’s castle-like girth makes it ill equipped for a slot like Nightmare Gulch. But frankly, before you call out the H2, Nightmare Gulch is a place you couldn’t take a lot of vehicles: none of the multi-shocked high-rise 4×4s with NASA light arrays could have made it; any stock crew-cab long bed would have suffered a couple of scrapes at the very least; even the Landcruiser took a beating. Yes, you could take a Wrangler Rubicon with little problem, but only because it’s smaller.

The H2 and the Landcruiser tip-toed through it admirably, both drivers scrupulously following the spotter’s directions. But the rocks would not be mocked, and they certainly weren’t going to allow these leviathans to pass without paying a paint and metal tax.

One slippery turn was our undoing. Coming to a bottleneck formed by the gulch wall and a massive boulder, the left side of the H2 rose up over a couple of boulders half buried in the trail… and then the truck slid into the wall. Try as we might, the sand and gravity said “We’ll take it from here,” and every time we got a bit of clearance the great white whale would slide again when we tried to move it (sorry, HUMMER…).

After a couple of hours of digging and hammering and tow-strap-earthmoving in Mercury-like heat, just a half mile from the trail end, we gave up, backed the truck up off the wall – it wasn’t pretty – and backed both trucks out of the gulch, then turned around and fled for the closest thing to civilization, which was Denny’s.

In this blogger’s version of the debrief after a Moons Over My Hammy, the finding was that the H2 and the Landcruiser will go anywhere you point them. Period. Anyone who says otherwise is, quite simply, incorrect. The only difference is in how they do it. The H2 is a thoroughly mechanical machine that overcomes obstacles with locking diffs and brute force. The Landcruiser substitutes some of that rawness with an electronic aid that will achieve the same end. The only thing we would change on the Landcruiser for off-road work is the steering: it really is Lexus-light, no matter what you’re doing. Unless the wheels were positively stuck, you could always turn the wheel with two fingers. But we would take either truck anywhere.

Well, anywhere they could fit.

Still, the co-drivers would not be swayed. “The H2 is still absurd,” they said, “but it had the right tires, and that’s what this is really all about.” The H2 could not get a fair trial; it had just done everything we wanted it to do, but now it was only because of the tires. We rebutted: Hogwash. The H2 covered every trail and had plenty left over, and that’s what this was really all about.

It was in the parking lot afterward that the smackdown came. We were walking to the H2, about to enjoy the long drive home, when we heard: “The Jeep Rubicon is really the best off-roader out there because it’s got locking front and rear diffs and 33-inch tires.” We turned and said “So does the H3T.”

They looked at your humble Autoblogger like you look at a fish floating oddly at the top of the tank – “Is he dead or just kind of messed up?” Speaking like they wanted me to read their lips in case my primitive brain weren’t developed enough to process their language sounds, they asked, “Are you saying you want to do it?”

“Oh yeah.”

Stay tuned next month for Rubicon vs. H3T on a 7-rated, 23.6 mile monstrosity of a trail. The battle rages.

There aren’t a lot of things that will get an automotive journalist out of bed before dawn. But nearly all of them have four wheels, which is about the only thing a formula racing car shares in common with the kind of ordinary automobiles you and I drive regularly. The chance to drive one stands out as one of those few luring precipitators. So when the invite came to join a local racing team for a test session at a remote desert airstrip, we broke with tradition and raced the sunrise just to see if it would prove worthwhile. Follow the jump to read what we discovered.As you’ve likely already ascertained, it wasn’t a Formula One racing car we headed into the desert to test drive. For one thing, they don’t test those on abandoned airstrips; they book track time at a first-rate racing circuit for that, or in some cases use their own private test tracks. For another, though teams have been known, upon occasion, to invite the odd journalist to drive their multi-million-dollar grand prix cars, odd as we are, we’re still waiting for such an invitation. But while F1 may be the only formula of motor racing known to the casual observer, at the risk of hiding behind an old cliché, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Formula One is the top tier of an entire world of open-wheel, single-seater motorsports that consists of dozens of lower racing formulae around the world.

Logically enough, under Formula One have historically been a number of junior classes like Formula 2, which is now in the process of being revived, and Formula 3, which is run in separate regional competitions around the world. Some formula racing series use different nomenclature, like GP2 and A1GP, not to mention IndyCars, America’s own version of open-wheel racing. Below them, however, are all even more different racing formulae, some based on mechanicals borrowed from, or even organized by, specific automakers like Formula BMW, Formula Ford and Formula Palmer Audi. Way down the pecking order, just above karting, lies Formula Vee.

The idea behind Formula Vee is to keep costs down so as to allow aspiring racing drivers to take part without the backing of sponsors, automakers or racing outfits. The mechanicals underpinning the cars could hardly be more basic: take the engine, transmission, front suspension, brakes and wheels from an old VW Beetle (hence the Formula Vee designation) and built a tube-frame chassis with a fiberglass body around it and you’ve got a race car. Sounds simple enough, but bear in mind that the bulk of ambitious Formula Vee competitors build their own cars in their garages at home. That’s exactly what our host did, with an eye towards competing in the British Formula Vee championship. But more on that in an upcoming post.

Although the UK series is one of the most popular, similar competitions are organized around the world, including ones in Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Germany, Ireland and Canada. Here in the United States, Formula Vee competitions are run under the auspices of the Sports Car Club of America, the same sanctioning body that organizes amateur and professional races across the country through its myriad chapters and divisions.

With its elementary mechanics and homegrown simplicity, Formula Vee is motor racing boiled down to its essence. The cars weigh little over 1000 lbs, and the best ones can top 120 mph. Maybe that doesn’t sound like much, especially compared to the speeds reached by higher-level formula racing cars, but sitting precious few inches above the ground with the wind rushing by, it feels plenty fast. The skinny tires and old-school brakes give the novice driver an ideal training ground for learning the dynamics of single-seat racing before (hopefully) graduating to a higher class where the speeds increase drastically, and along with them the risks and demands.

After waiting for the aspiring pilots to complete their practice laps – including a few for your photographic enjoyment – it was finally our turn behind the wheel. But with the sun dropping almost as fast as our fuel supply, we would only have time for a few laps. Of course the single-seat set-up meant there would be no hands-on tutorial, but the brief was short. Steering wheel, gas, brakes, clutch, four-speed H-gate shifter…that’s about it.

Our course ran through a long line of pylons placed strategically down one side of the runway, through the roundabout at the far end and back down the straight towards the tower and dilapidated terminal. The sand-swept air strip looked like it hadn’t been used in years, so aside from sporadic through-fare from local residents, the odd teenager on a joy-ride, and a family of wild dogs that seemed to consider the site their home turf, the coast was clear.

The car has an ignition system, but more often than not a simple push-start seemed just as convenient. Lift the clutch, drop it into second, pump the gas and away we go. Right off the line, the experience seems familiar. All the controls are where you’d expect them to be, but something’s different. More direct. More intuitive. Driving ordinary, even extraordinary automobiles, you grow accustomed to the inevitable – though increasingly minimized – delay from when you turn the wheel or press a pedal before the heft of the car does what you’ve instructed with your limbs. With a simple lightweight frame and circa-1963 mechanicals, the Formula Vee car exhibits no such hesitation. If you’ve ever gone karting and then gotten back into your car to drive home, chances are you know exactly what we mean.

Although our time was limited, it didn’t take long to familiarize ourselves with the car and its dynamics. The skinny tires mean there isn’t a lot of traction. In the corners you’ll find the limit of adhesion rather quickly if you’re daring enough. The small air-cooled flat-four engine doesn’t challenge the rear tires with too much torque, but coming out of a corner early enough on the throttle will generate just enough wheel-spin to keep it interesting. With the engine out back and little more than the weight of the front suspension and fiberglass nosecone keeping the front end planted, we were warned that the tail is prone to slide around, and so it did. But a quick correction, steering into the skid, and a judicious application of throttle pulled the rear end back into place and the car pointed straight ahead. Even steering wide of the edge of the tarmac and into the dirt, the chassis wasn’t upset and slid back onto the pavement with no fuss.

Of course the ultimate test of any driving experience can’t be measured or calibrated with any instruments, but can be judged only by how hesitant we were to step out of the car and give back the keys. In this case, there were no keys to return, just a crash helmet and our impressions. And if you haven’t guessed by now, after just a couple of laps around the air strip, we didn’t want to leave, but were out-voted by the setting sun and empty fuel tank.

Suzuki has chosen a rather dubious time to enter the pickup truck market with the 2009 Equator. As you are surely aware, trucks and SUV sales are way down from their apogee a few years back, and small cars like the ones that have historically filled Suzuki showrooms are all the rage. So, why would the Japanese automaker even bother with a mid-sized pickup truck based on the Nissan Frontier? That’s a good question, and we aimed to find out when we grabbed the keys to Team Yellow’s first-ever real pickup contender in the U.S.
So why did Suzuki decide to enter the truck market in the first place? As one of Japan’s largest makers of powersports products, the company has a very large customer base that already owns its off-highway line of vehicles. Whether they be motorcycles, dirtbikes, ATVs or watercraft, Suzuki’s own research indicates that owners of its others products are 50-percent more likely to own a truck than the average person, so brand-loyal riders will now have the ability to haul their toys with the same brand of truck. Suzuki doesn’t appear to have the delusion that it’s going to sell a boatload of Equators, but any truck sales it does get are sales it wouldn’t have otherwise, so it could be a winning idea in the end despite the current market conditions.

Anyone familiar with the inside guts of the latest Nissan Frontier is likely to feel right at home inside the Suzuki Equator. An easy-to-read gauge cluster sits behind a familiar Nissan-spec steering wheel and switchgear. While we generally aren’t in favor of this kind of product-sharing, at least the truck is based on a credible and successful model and it’s not badge engineering within the same automaker. Suzuki makes no bones about the fact that the Equator is based on a competing model, and in fact claims to have hand-picked the Frontier specifically for its off-road worthiness and overall truck-ability. We put those supposed off-road credentials to the test and we’ll tell you how it fared a bit later. In the meantime, let’s take a look at the outer skin of the Equator and see how it compares with its kin and closest rivals.

On the outside, and especially in profile, it may be easy to mistake the Equator for the Frontier. Most of the work that went into differentiating the two models was done to the front end. In comparison to its platform-mate, we prefer the looks of the Suzuki, which definitely has that square-jawed truck look that seems to be popular these days. On the highway, that big opening didn’t add any undue wind noise that we could detect. What we could detect loud and clear was the big V6 engine at the helm along with the four rather aggressively tread contact patches at each corner. In was livable, but you may find yourself turning up the stereo a few notches on the highway.

Under the hood of all our test trucks was Nissan’s excellent 4.0-liter V6 engine making 261 horsepower and 281 lb-ft of torque, each mated to a five-speed automatic tranny. For those wishing to do a bit better than that combo’s 15 city / 20 highway mileage, Suzuki also offers the 2.5-liter four-cylinder engine from the Frontier with 152 horses and 171 lb-ft. That engine is available with either a five-speed manual transmission (19/23 mpg) or five-speed auto (17/22 mpg). A part-time 4WD system is available, as are an electronic locking rear differential, limited-slip traction control, Vehicle Dynamic Control, Hill Descent Control and Hill Hold Control. We took the truck off-road and put all of these features to the test. They worked as advertised, though switching them off proved much more fun.

The Equator was quiet and stable on the road with driving dynamics that are quite good for a truck. Though nowhere near as car-like as some competitors, namely the Honda Ridgeline, that truckiness is exactly what Suzuki wanted and the fully boxed frame and rugged suspension deliver on that promise. Suzuki offers two cab sizes and two bed lengths, mirroring those available for the Frontier. Choose either an Extended Cab with rear-hinged portals aft the front doors or a Crew Cab with four real doors, which comes with the V6 engine only. Road-biased tires and suspension settings come standard on base models while higher-spec models are equipped for the more adventurous among us.

Those wishing to drive off the beaten path should consider the RMZ-4 package that includes all that electronic gadgetry mentioned earlier along with Bilstien shocks, skid plates, heavy-duty Dana 44 axles and meaty 265/75R16 tires. A special interior package also comes with the RMZ-4 model, which borrows its name from Suzuki’s line of off-road bikes. Those wishing to tote a two-wheeler in the back may appreciate the optional utility bed package that comes with two rows of tie-downs mounted in sliding tracks. The system worked well when demonstrated for us, and maximum trailer towing capacity is 6,500 pounds for the V6 2WD model.

Overall, the Equator is a decent truck that offers a good option for fans of Suzuki cycles, ATVs and watercraft who want to keep all their modes of transportation in the same family. What about buyers who don’t already have an attachment to Suzuki? Why would you choose the Equator over the Frontier? Suzuki points to its warranty as one reason, which at 7 years / 100,000 miles on the powertrain is superior to the Nissan’s 5-year / 60,000-mile coverage. Of course, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so you’ll have to make a judgement call for yourself when it comes to the truck’s styling as well as the all-important issue of name recognition. Regardless, the Equator is a well-rounded truck that will likely sell in relatively small numbers, and in many cases to buyers who wish to remain loyal to their favored yellow-hued brand.

The state of California has the toughest vehicle emissions regulations in the world in its LEV II (and the corresponding national Tier 2 Bin 5) standards. Those rules treat all engine types the same regardless of what fuel they use. It doesn’t matter if the engine runs on gasoline, diesel or cow dung, the emissions standards are the same. These rules are so tight that no manufacturer has been able to sell light-duty passenger vehicles powered by diesel engines in California and four other states for the last several years. That’s all about to change beginning with last month’s sales launch of the 2009 Volkswagen Jetta TDI. The Jetta TDI is the first new diesel-powered car to meet the tough T2B5 standards, and it’s fitting that VW invited us out to the birthplace of these emissions regulations to drive it. We spent a day driving the Jetta TDI in and around Santa Monica to gauge whether it has the right balance of Fahrvergnügen and low fuel consumption to be a viable alternative to cars like the Prius, Civic and Focus. Continue after the jump to find out more.

Save the hot hatch for last. That’s what we kept telling ourselves as we wandered the Belgian countryside looking for Ford’s Lommel Proving Ground. As it turns out, the facility, located next to an air force base – restricted airspace, you know – is so secret, our hosts at Ford could hardly find it. So we had a little extra time to repeat the mantra: save the hot hatch for last.

On our way to Italy to drive the new Fiesta, we took a detour to Lommel to sample some of Ford’s European C-segment offerings. A variety of vehicles, including one with the new dual-clutch gearbox, a Kuga crossover and the fire-breathing Focus ST, would be on hand for us to drive around the track. But we knew that if we gave into temptation and drove the ST first, the rest would seem sluggish by comparison, even though the vehicles aren’t comparable. So did we resist the urge, or give into the little demon that’s always whispering in our ears to go faster? Follow the jump and we just might tell you.

Before hitting the track, we sat through a series of briefings on the company, the products and the facility. But one declaration caught our attention more than the rest: Ford VP Derrick Kuzak declared that the Focus ST was the best driving machine that Ford has to offer. That’s quite a declaration from the company that brought us the Ford GT, the Shelby Mustangs, and such rally-bred rockets as the RS200 and Escort Cosworth. Needless to say, we were keen to put Kuzak’s affirmation to the test.

The Focus ST is based on the European model, which went its own way from the North American version for the second generation. Following the launch of the new Fiesta, the next Focus will once again be a global vehicle sol simultaneously in Europe, the U.S. and elsewhere. Until then, the 225-hp Focus ST – available with either three doors or five and carrying a Volvo-sourced 2.5-liter turbocharged inline-five – will remain a coveted offering exclusively for overseas customers.

But we knew we should drive the diesels first. So once the briefings were done, we stepped outside to find an assortment of Focus-sized vehicles. Maybe we’ll sample the DCT first, to see Ford’s take on the latest in transmission technology. Or the Kuga, to see how a European soft-roader handles the twisty bits. There was even a C-Max, a little Focus-based minivan. But what’s that over there? “There’s a Focus ST waiting for you, Noah”. Was that my little demon piping up again? Nope, that was one of our hospitable hosts from Ford’s European headquarters in Cologne. He knows what we came for. And in that glowing orange hue, it couldn’t be missed from a mile away. And I don’t even like orange.

Temptation won again, and we slipped into the ST’s leather-lined cabin, into the convoy and onto the sharply banked high-speed oval, one of 17 circuits at Ford’s vast 800-acre test center. Unfortunately, safety concerns – and a lack of certification – meant that our laps around Lommel would be escorted by pace cars – Mondeo wagons fore and aft – to make sure we kept things within reason. Or at least at a reasonable speed. Fair enough, this would force us to drive under similar conditions to what the everyday driver would face on the daily commute, only without any “everyday drivers” around to get in the way. Or traffic lights, pedestrians or speed cameras, for that matter.

This is exactly what LPG was made for: putting Ford vehicles to the test under safe conditions away from public roads. The facility first opened its doors – to those few with access, anyway – in 1965, and every European Ford vehicle since has undergone testing there. Nestled in the forest, LPG encompasses some 80 kilometers of track. Over the past nine years alone, Ford has invested over €23 million to keep it at the cutting edge. Aside from the dynos, climate chambers and suspension rigs, LPG features 17 distinct tracks, including the two on which we’d be driving: the high-speed oval and the infamous Road 7, a notoriously challenging circuit with more bends than a can of worms on ecstasy.

Pulling out onto the oval track, our rate of acceleration and top speed were limited by the pace cars, but the slightest gap between the nose of the ST and the car in front gave ample demonstration of the hot Focus’ ferocity. The turbo comes on linearly and with little lag, giving a smooth progression of power that ultimately proved intoxicating. As our speed built up and we pulled up into the embankment, the Focus ST tracked steadily and securely with a “bring it on” attitude. But it wasn’t until we pulled infield that the competence of its chassis really shone through.

The multitude of curves along Road 7 meant that once we got off the oval, we hardly had the chance to climb out of third gear. Not that the Focus didn’t try, though. After a lap or two, the unflappable Focus ST gave us enough confidence to push it into a bit of wheel-slip, which the car provided with pleasure and a linear progression that was easy to control, even for this novice driver. But oh, what fun. By European standards this is no small car, and compared to something like the junior Fiesta ST, the Focus carries a bit of weight. But that wasn’t about to stop it from showing us a good time. Neither was its front-drive layout, which usually makes tail-sliding a challenge, but even with the traction control and stability management engaged, the Focus still demonstrated a playful nature. We would have switched the systems off, but the option was buried deep within an electronic menu that we didn’t have time to navigate.

Those guys in the Mondeos did, though. Turns out these weren’t just minders, but Ford’s crack team of performance engineers. Towards the end of the day, we got to ride shotgun with one of them, electronics off and helmets on. Whatever we thought we had come to understand about the Focus ST’s capabilities went out the window, the same direction through which we had to watch the road as our expert pilot hustled the Focus sideways around the track like a turbocharged shopping cart.

So what about those other cars in the motor pool? Yeah, we almost forgot about those, too. We’ll have another report on the Kuga for you soon. We also took a couple of laps in a Focus with the new PowerShift dual-clutch gearbox, which, when hooked up to a diesel engine at least, came across as more comfort- than performance-oriented. It’ll be interesting to see if Ford will offer PowerShift on any performance models, but so far no word has come on whether that will transpire. With a quick-shifting clutchless gearbox, who knows, we might have gotten out of third in the ST. On the diesel version, however, the DCT proved more of a replacement for a conventional torque-converter automatic than a substitute for a manual.

Of course, that was after driving the Focus ST. And after a few laps in that orange beast, we have a feeling that most cars would feel rather lethargic. But everything is relative. Case in point: Ford is working on a new, even more powerful Focus RS. Enthusiasts were initially disappointed when the announcement came from Ford that, due to cost and weight issues, the RS would stick with front-wheel-drive instead of all fours like the championship-winning rally car it’s built to emulate. Those who’ve driven the prototype around Road 7 promise we won’t be disappointed. Looks like we’ll have to arrange another visit to Lommel, then. We just hope we can find it again.

Tragedy struck the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah last week when 47-year-old Cliff Gullett, of Team Bullet Costella-Gullett Racing, lost control of his bike at nearly 240 mph. Gullett, an experienced racer who held nearly a dozen land speed records on motorcycles, was competing in the 500cc class (two-stroke, two-cylinder) riding the Costella-Gullett Motorcycle Streamliner. He crashed after completing his return run — the record is pending ratification by the governing racing bodies. A memorial service will be held next Saturday in his hometown of Bozeman, Montana. Our condolences are extended to the entire Gullett family including his wife, son, and daughter. Our appreciation to 3seriesisking for alerting us to the sad news.

After decades of decay, Cadillac began a transformation in the waning years of the last century that would allow the brand to compete against modern luxury brands. Decrepit beasts like the late Eldorado and Seville were euthanized and, while the decision to switch mostly to alpha-numeric naming was dubious, Cadillac finally started creating cars that could compete directly with the best from Europe and Japan, and the first generation CTS was one of them.

In spite of this progress, the Germans still had something Cadillac lacked, namely AMG, M and RS models. So Cadillac devised the V-Series, the first of which was the 2004 CTS-V. Just as BMW does with the M3 and M5, Audi with the RS4 and RS6 and Mercedes with innumerable AMGs, the CTS-V had a bigger, more powerful engine; beefier brakes and tires; a suspension to match and an upgraded interior. This, however, is an arms race that has yet to subsie in spite of ever higher fuel prices. With BMW, Mercedes and Audi now offering even more powerful engines, Cadillac has stepped up to the plate with an all-new CTS-V and we had a chance to drive it at the even newer Monticello Motor Club in New York. With a new supercharged LSA engine closely related to the LS9 in the Corvette ZR1, the CTS-V makes some big promises.

American automakers started trying to create what they called Euro-sedans way back in the mid-’80s. At the time, they thought a European sedan was nothing more than a de-chromed version of a regular sedan that was stiffly suspended with a little more tire. The result of this thinking was cars like the Chevy Celebrity EuroSport and Pontiac 6000 STE. Needless to say, none of these were competitive with Audi or BMW were offering. Cadillac didn’t even try to compete at back then since it was still selling big Fleetwoods and De Villes. Fast forward two decades and GM has well and truly learned how to build cars that can attack the heart of the German sport sedan segment, as the regular 2008 CTS, which has drawn largely rave reviews since its debut last year, has demonstrated.

We got a close look at the CTS-V in June at the Milford Proving Ground and went for a ride in one so we already knew the car was fast. With 556 horsepower and 551 lb-ft of torque, how could it not be? But many past GM efforts performed well on the controlled surfaces of a proving ground environment but fell flat on their faces in the real world. So before we hit Monticello, we embarked on a 90-minute route from White Plains, NY that took us through a mix of urban stop-and-go, freeways, small towns and some twisty mountain roads.

The driving environment of the CTS-V is largely the same as the standard CTS, but with some upgraded trim like micro-fiber inserts in the seats and around steering wheel that feel rich to the touch and look great. The standard seats are based on those in the standard CTS, but unless you have an extra-wide girth, we recommend opting for the 14-way Recaros – you won’t be sorry. The standard seats are reasonably supportive and comfortable, but the lower cushions are too short. The Recaros have adjustable thigh supports, as well as adjustable everything else.

The CTS-V does transmit more of the road surface to your back-side than the regular sedan. You will not mistake it for one of those floaty, ’80s-era Fleetwoods. Nor is it anything like an early C4 vintage Z51 Corvette. The magnetic ride damping system does a great job of filtering out the unpleasantness while still letting you be aware of what’s passing underneath. Similarly, the audible feedback of the tires and exhaust are louder than a base CTS but far less than a typical aftermarket exhaust system. It’s a nice balance that lets you know you’re driving a serious automobile with very serious sporting pretensions, but that it doesn’t mind getting up and going to work each morning.



Visually, the CTS-V stands out in a crowd more than either its lesser siblings or its predecessor. The big mesh grille now has twice the open area of the previous V, a necessity to flow enough air for the up to seven heat exchangers. The CTS-V is also the first GM car to be equipped with an electric park brake. The base CTS has one of those old school foot operated jobs, but Cadillac engineers wanted more foot room for the manual transmission CTS-V.

The EPB leaves extra room for the dead pedal on which you can rest your left foot when not using the clutch. With 551 lb-ft of twisting force, the clutch needs a lot clamping force. Fortunately, the use of a dual plate clutch like the one in the ZR1 means that your left leg won’t end up being twice the size of your right. The clutch effort is nicely weighted and the travel is well matched to the accelerator and brake.



Once we got to Monticello, there was a briefing from CTS-V lead performance integration engineer Chris Berube. Along with all the technical details about the engine, he gave us a warning about shift points. Showing us the power and torque curves, he noted that most engines reach a power peak somewhere below their maximum rpm. Even without looking at the tach, you can feel the loss of acceleration as you approach the red-line. Such is not the case with the LSA power-curve. It has no peak, rather it just ends at the red-line. If the valve-train and other components could withstand higher sustained speeds, it could make even more than its advertised 556 horsepower. Thus, it’s very easy to hit the CTS-V’s rev-limiter before you know what’s happening. The speedometer and tach have red tracer LEDs that follow the needles as they arc around the dial, and as you approach red-line they start to flash.

This new Monticello track is absolutely astounding. It’s a 4.1-mile, 22-turn natural terrain circuit designed by veteran road racer Brian Redman and track architect Bruce Hawkins. We’ll tell you more about the Monticello Motor Club in a separate post later, but suffice it to say that this was a perfect locale for the debut of the CTS-V. It took some getting used to since none of us had seen the track before, especially since it’s so long, and with 500 feet of elevation change, there are many different types of turns. It’s challenging for drivers of any skill level, especially driving a monster like the CTS-V.

Like the team responsible for the ZR1, the CTS-V crew strove to build a car with immense performance that was at the same time very usable on both the street and track. A driver with less skill can thrash it without getting bitten back at every wrong move. For those with a higher degree of skill, the CTS-V offers a higher ceiling for exploring even greater limits. Switching the stability control system to Competitive mode raises all the thresholds before the system will intervene, which allows you to hang the tail out in a controlled drift before reeling it back in.



Switching the magnetic ride control from Touring to Sport will noticeably reduce body roll. Sport mode is probably a bit too harsh for use every day, unless you live somewhere with really smooth pavement. Ride quality wasn’t an issue on the perfectly contoured pavement of the Monticello track and the stiffer damping allowed the car to respond to our inputs much quicker than in Touring mode.

With a mass nearly 900 lbs more than the ZR1 and considerably less Michelin rubber wrapped around its wheels, the CTS-V could never be expected to be as nimble as the two-seat Chevy. However, any car with this much power that can put it to the ground with no hint of wheel hop or axle tramp is clearly doing something right. Cadillac uses an asymmetric half-shaft setup that has different natural frequencies on each side of the rear axle, which prevents the two wheels from getting into a race condition. Combined with the traction control system that uses signals from the stability control to vector the torque and help turn-in, driving the CTS-V extremely fast comes naturally.

Production of the new CTS-V starts in October and Cadillac hasn’t finalized pricing yet. We’re told to expect a base price of about $60,000 with only a handful of options, but the only option you really need are those Recaro seats. That’s more than $20,000 less than a BMW M5 or a Mercedes-Benz AMG E63 – and the Cadillac is faster than both. For those who crave the supercharged grunt of a ZR1 but regularly need space for more than one passenger, the 2009 CTS-V will get you shockingly close in a remarkably sophisticated package that’s a bargain in this segment.

After decades of decay, Cadillac began a transformation in the waning years of the last century that would allow the brand to compete against modern luxury brands. Decrepit beasts like the late Eldorado and Seville were euthanized and, while the decision to switch mostly to alpha-numeric naming was dubious, Cadillac finally started creating cars that could compete directly with the best from Europe and Japan, and the first generation CTS was one of them.

In spite of this progress, the Germans still had something Cadillac lacked, namely AMG, M and RS models. So Cadillac devised the V-Series, the first of which was the 2004 CTS-V. Just as BMW does with the M3 and M5, Audi with the RS4 and RS6 and Mercedes with innumerable AMGs, the CTS-V had a bigger, more powerful engine; beefier brakes and tires; a suspension to match and an upgraded interior. This, however, is an arms race that has yet to subsie in spite of ever higher fuel prices. With BMW, Mercedes and Audi now offering even more powerful engines, Cadillac has stepped up to the plate with an all-new CTS-V and we had a chance to drive it at the even newer Monticello Motor Club in New York. With a new supercharged LSA engine closely related to the LS9 in the Corvette ZR1, the CTS-V makes some big promises. Read on after the jump to see if it delivers.