R&T: Does door count define a sports car?
04-28-2011, 01:15 PM
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R&T: Does door count define a sports car?
http://www.roadandtrack.com/tests/co...or-performance
Since the dawn of the automobile, its creators have strived to extract greater and greater performance from their machines. Purely speculation on my part, but I can picture Karl Benz tugging on his ample walrus moustache, staring pensively into middle distance and scheming about the successor to the 1886 Patent Motorwagen. “Hmm, lighten the horizontal flywheel for quicker revving? Go ‘Plus 1’ on the carriage-wheel rubber? Paddle shifters on the tiller? Oh, wait, I’ll need to invent a transmission with multiple ratios for that.”
Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but in more modern times, the desire to broaden the performance envelope is greater than ever, to create a car that’s all things to all people. For our purposes here, that involves making a sports sedan handle like a sports car. The concept certainly has merit, and has been achieved with varying degrees of success over the years; at the late 1960s’ pinnacle, think sedans like the BMW 1600/2002 and Alfa’s blocky yet ultra-cool Berlina. I owned a 1600 years ago, and although it had roll angles of the Niña, Pinta and Santa María combined, it clung like Shoe Goo in the corners. It also had a freakishly large trunk, seating for five in a pinch and the outward visibility of an aquarium (although its ultra-slim pillars likely wouldn’t fare well in a rollover). Consider that the BMW had two doors yet was considered a sedan owing to its roofline and generous rear seating, and the sports-car/sports-sedan line of demarcation gets fuzzier still.
And so the quest continues, and we’ve assembled two modern pairings to see how they measure up, in terms of commuting, load carrying, day-to-day usability, and most importantly, their fun factor when driven hard. Selection criteria for this particular test were straightforward…the cars needed to originate from the same country, and their 0–60 times and prices had to be in the same ballpark. With our VBOX data-loggers in tow, we journeyed to Spring Mountain Motorsports Ranch in Pahrump, Nevada, for lapping on the 1.5-mile “Radical Loop,” and another week strafing our favorite local cloverleafs, transition roads and highways. Finally, we took them to our usual test venue at El Toro to get a fresh batch of acceleration and handling numbers to see how they perform under identical surface and weather conditions.
So what’ll it be, two doors or four? Read on, and hopefully we can shed some light.
It’s hard to imagine two more diverse approaches to performance-car design—the Z, which initially wowed U.S. buyers back in 1970 as an inexpensive Japanese alternative to the Jaguar E-Type, and the Evo, Mitsubishi’s bread-and-butter economy car transformed overnight with turbocharged thrust, all-wheel drive and rally-homologated street cred. They’re both quick, relatively affordable and can be seen at any given autocross or track day.
We decided to go with the Evo GSR, the 5-speed manual version that still profits from Mitsubishi’s torque-vectoring Active Yaw Control (AYC) and driver-adjustable center diff. Its 291 bhp from a turbocharged 2.0-liter is expertly applied to the contact patches. Said Assistant Road Test Editor Calvin Kim after a lapping session: “The AYC is sublime here. You can get the thing sideways, shift in mid-slide, and it’s not a problem as the car just soaks it up.” Overshoot a corner? No worries; squeeze in some throttle and the magic of AYC sucks you toward the apex in a process that’s not exactly precise, but effective and repeatable. Turn-in is lightning fast, body roll is minimal and the excellent Recaro seats hold your body securely without pinching.
Certainly, the first contact with an Evo imparts some cheesiness, starting with the tinny door sound, built-to-a-price interior and buzzy engine, but all is forgiven on the track when it’s driven in anger. “It won’t win any awards for interior refinement,” offered Kim, who owns the previous-generation Evo IX, “but that’s just part of the compromise you have to make.”
The Mitsu scores big points with a roofline that doesn’t require rear seat occupants to assume the fetal position. Yet the trunk is a disappointment, with a high load floor to clear the awd componentry and depth that’s about half of what you’d expect. An extra bulkhead, maybe 6 in. behind the rear seatback, hogs space yet provides additional structural rigidity and conceals the battery and windshield washer reservoir. And the Mitsu’s cat-like handling reflexes exact a price in ride comfort too, as it’s thumpier and dartier in daily use than the others.
sports car, powered by the latest 332-bhp 3.7-liter iteration of the VQ V-6. Aside from a restyling and extra power, the improvements over the 350Z are noticeable and worthwhile. The wraparound cockpit interior, for example, has far better materials and design, and still retains the three ancillary gauges atop the center dash that are a genetic tie to the 1970 car. Given a choice, we’d all get rid of the cheesy orange “line of LEDs” displays for coolant temperature and fuel level, to the left of the suitably chunky steering wheel.
On the track, the Z is highly capable, and displays a much less frenetic demeanor than the Evo. It’s an easy car to drive at speed, putting the V-6’s power down without drama or oversteer. “Stable, with no real vices,” said Managing Editor Andy Bornhop. Although there’s no real spike to the engine’s torque curve, its delivery seems to match the rear grip level perfectly. There’s not as much feel as we’d like through the heavy steering—“The only way to feel what the front end is doing is to start overdriving it; then you feel the judder and it lets you know, ‘Hey, you’re overcooking me!’” said Kim.
Other Z strengths are a solid and precise shift linkage and brakes that offered repeatable and fade-free performance. But the engine’s Achilles’ heel is its propensity for high oil temperature, a condition that will send the car into “limp mode” and restrict engine revs to 5000 until it cools down…a real buzz kill at a track day. Said Bornhop: “A true sports car ought to be able to lap for a long time without falling into this overheating-related mode.” Added Road Test Editor Jonathan Elfalan: “A real deal-breaker for me.” True, an aftermarket oil cooler would go a long way toward remedying the problem, but an owner shouldn’t be saddled with this. The shifter’s Synchro Revmatch feature works amazingly well, blipping the throttle on downshifts automatically based on the position of the gear lever, but we found ourselves forgetting to turn it off…and when instincts take over, our heel/toe blips on top of the system’s made for a little confusion!
Also in the Z’s favor are its excellent structural rigidity, more impressive still as the 350Z’s brace across the rear suspension towers has been eliminated, which greatly improves loading ease/utility beneath the 370Z’s hatch. Yet the Z allows more tire/road noise to filter into the cockpit, and the engine is boomier than we’d like…maybe it’s better to roll the window down to hear more of the Z’s distinctive “Chewbacca” exhaust note.
At the end of the day, we’d have to go with the Evo. It’s a bit quicker in raw lap times (1:24.8 versus the Z’s 1:25.6) and feels like it could absorb abuse all day. And although its handling isn’t as precise as the Nissan’s, it’s remarkable how it repeatedly gathers itself up, no matter how ham-fistedly you throw it into a corner. On the track, its fun factor is off the charts.
Our across-the-pond pairing here consists of the composite-bodied, aluminum-tub mid-engine Evora and the massive supercharged V-8-powered XFR—the former, an accomplished triathlete who cleans up well in formal wear; the latter, a stately gent who can lay down his pipe, take off his patched-elbow tweed jacket and explode through the high hurdles in Olympic record time.
The Jag seems almost indignant that you’d ask it to lap such a tight track, but given its 4425-lb. heft—despite its aluminum unibody—it certainly doesn’t embarrass itself. With electronic nannies defeated, there’s a moderate push on corner entry, mitigated by slight, easily catchable lift-throttle oversteer. Or on-throttle oversteer; take your pick. It’s a two-stage process, not a seamless transition, and the gentler the input, the quicker the lap time. The Jag was deemed the reigning king of cool-down laps…the brakes are powerful and effective, but all that scrubbed kinetic energy ultimately manifests itself in smoke plumes curling out of the wheels’ spokes. We all agreed that the XFR is at its best on a curvy, gently undulating back road where it feels sure-footed in big sweepers, confident over crests and its instantaneous supercharged thrust can be tapped for short chutes and straightaways alike. “Love the torque of the engine, the burble of it,” said Bornhop.
Special mention must go to the Jag’s 6-speed ZF automatic that can be shifted with steering-wheel paddles. But save yourself the trouble and simply hit the button on the center console emblazoned with a little checkered flag. That puts you in Dynamic mode where automatic gear selection borders on telekinetic, always seeming to preselect the perfect cog for corner exit. Of course, attack-mode shock valving and sharper throttle response are also part of the deal, but nothing so aggressive as to be annoying on the street.
And slogging through traffic, there are few more self-indulgent places than the XFR’s interior, with textured aluminum and wood trim, redolent leather, supportive-yet-comfortable deeply bolstered seats and those cool touches on start-up that delight a first-time passenger…the shift selector knob rises out of the console, and air vents automatically swing open in unison. On the down side, the nav system is starting to show its age and the satellite radio is painfully slow to change stations. Ride quality is on the plush side of firm (Elfalan: “I thought it was too soft in its sportiest setting”) and there’s ample space for both rear seat passengers and a weekend’s worth of luggage—or test gear and helmet bags, as the case may be.
We all know that Brits use the word “brilliant!” to excess, yet nowhere is it more apropos than following a session lapping the Lotus Evora. “It’s the most formula car-esque of the group,” said Kim, “and you can really feel the wheels out at the corners and feel what the tires are doing.” Offered Bornhop: “Even though it’s only a couple hundred pounds lighter than the Z, it feels like it’s 500 pounds lighter.” Understeer is minimal, and like the Z, the torque-to-rear-tire-section-width ratio is such that you can pick up the throttle right at the apex. Brakes—and isn’t it odd to see such larger rotors and calipers on a Lotus?—are more than a match for the car’s 3155-lb. curb weight, though a bit grabby in light applications on the street.
Around Spring Mountain, the Evora’s balance was near-neutral in the faster sweepers and you can summon just the right amount of lift-throttle yaw to point it at the apex, all in one smooth action. There’s a wonderful tightness to this car, with little wasted motion in transitions.
The Camry-based 3.5-liter V-6 is, er, adequate. Powerful enough to propel the Evora to quick time of the day (1:24.82, a sneeze quicker than the Evo and 1.94 seconds quicker than the XFR), the 276-bhp engine revs nicely and supplies a dependable flow of torque but little in the way of an enthralling exhaust note. (That will change in the future, according to Lotus CEO Dany Bahar, with a modular family of Lotus-designed engines in the pipeline.) The shifter could be better too…its action was stiff, perhaps partly due to the newness of our test car. “It just doesn’t promote quick shifts,” added Bornhop.
Inside, this kinder, gentler Lotus borders on true luxury, with double-stitched black leather everywhere, heated Recaros that are electrically adjustable fore/aft, and noticeably more head room than the Z, and maybe a little more than the Jag! Entry/exit still requires a plan of attack—it’s easier than with an Elise/Exige, but there’s still a formidable high sill to negotiate. Once seated, wheel arch intrusion means no place to rest your left foot when not using the clutch. Some sightlines to controls and buttons are blocked by the small D-shaped wheel…but really, if this weren’t the case it wouldn’t be a Lotus, right? In all, it’s a huge step up from the Elise/Exige twins in terms of refinement, sound deadening and day-to-day usability.
Our test car was a 2+0 model, which means that instead of the tiny, contortionist-worthy back seat, there’s a carpeted storage area there with a cargo net across the front…by far the better option for most. The trunk, as promised, will hold a golf bag. And what bodes even better for a long day’s journey into night is the Evora’s amazingly supple ride that soaks up pavement cracks and rain gutters without flinching.
Between the Jag and the Lotus, the decision isn’t clear-cut at all. Have a family, yet still have some tiger blood coursing through your veins? The XKR gets the nod. Single, with lots of discretionary income set aside for track-day thrills? The Evora without a doubt.
In my opinion, 4 door doesnt equal sporty, even though there are plenty of 4 door turbo'd vehicles out there. Maybe I'm stupid for believing that, but when I think of sports car...I just think of coupes.
Since the dawn of the automobile, its creators have strived to extract greater and greater performance from their machines. Purely speculation on my part, but I can picture Karl Benz tugging on his ample walrus moustache, staring pensively into middle distance and scheming about the successor to the 1886 Patent Motorwagen. “Hmm, lighten the horizontal flywheel for quicker revving? Go ‘Plus 1’ on the carriage-wheel rubber? Paddle shifters on the tiller? Oh, wait, I’ll need to invent a transmission with multiple ratios for that.”
Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but in more modern times, the desire to broaden the performance envelope is greater than ever, to create a car that’s all things to all people. For our purposes here, that involves making a sports sedan handle like a sports car. The concept certainly has merit, and has been achieved with varying degrees of success over the years; at the late 1960s’ pinnacle, think sedans like the BMW 1600/2002 and Alfa’s blocky yet ultra-cool Berlina. I owned a 1600 years ago, and although it had roll angles of the Niña, Pinta and Santa María combined, it clung like Shoe Goo in the corners. It also had a freakishly large trunk, seating for five in a pinch and the outward visibility of an aquarium (although its ultra-slim pillars likely wouldn’t fare well in a rollover). Consider that the BMW had two doors yet was considered a sedan owing to its roofline and generous rear seating, and the sports-car/sports-sedan line of demarcation gets fuzzier still.
And so the quest continues, and we’ve assembled two modern pairings to see how they measure up, in terms of commuting, load carrying, day-to-day usability, and most importantly, their fun factor when driven hard. Selection criteria for this particular test were straightforward…the cars needed to originate from the same country, and their 0–60 times and prices had to be in the same ballpark. With our VBOX data-loggers in tow, we journeyed to Spring Mountain Motorsports Ranch in Pahrump, Nevada, for lapping on the 1.5-mile “Radical Loop,” and another week strafing our favorite local cloverleafs, transition roads and highways. Finally, we took them to our usual test venue at El Toro to get a fresh batch of acceleration and handling numbers to see how they perform under identical surface and weather conditions.
So what’ll it be, two doors or four? Read on, and hopefully we can shed some light.
It’s hard to imagine two more diverse approaches to performance-car design—the Z, which initially wowed U.S. buyers back in 1970 as an inexpensive Japanese alternative to the Jaguar E-Type, and the Evo, Mitsubishi’s bread-and-butter economy car transformed overnight with turbocharged thrust, all-wheel drive and rally-homologated street cred. They’re both quick, relatively affordable and can be seen at any given autocross or track day.
We decided to go with the Evo GSR, the 5-speed manual version that still profits from Mitsubishi’s torque-vectoring Active Yaw Control (AYC) and driver-adjustable center diff. Its 291 bhp from a turbocharged 2.0-liter is expertly applied to the contact patches. Said Assistant Road Test Editor Calvin Kim after a lapping session: “The AYC is sublime here. You can get the thing sideways, shift in mid-slide, and it’s not a problem as the car just soaks it up.” Overshoot a corner? No worries; squeeze in some throttle and the magic of AYC sucks you toward the apex in a process that’s not exactly precise, but effective and repeatable. Turn-in is lightning fast, body roll is minimal and the excellent Recaro seats hold your body securely without pinching.
Certainly, the first contact with an Evo imparts some cheesiness, starting with the tinny door sound, built-to-a-price interior and buzzy engine, but all is forgiven on the track when it’s driven in anger. “It won’t win any awards for interior refinement,” offered Kim, who owns the previous-generation Evo IX, “but that’s just part of the compromise you have to make.”
The Mitsu scores big points with a roofline that doesn’t require rear seat occupants to assume the fetal position. Yet the trunk is a disappointment, with a high load floor to clear the awd componentry and depth that’s about half of what you’d expect. An extra bulkhead, maybe 6 in. behind the rear seatback, hogs space yet provides additional structural rigidity and conceals the battery and windshield washer reservoir. And the Mitsu’s cat-like handling reflexes exact a price in ride comfort too, as it’s thumpier and dartier in daily use than the others.
sports car, powered by the latest 332-bhp 3.7-liter iteration of the VQ V-6. Aside from a restyling and extra power, the improvements over the 350Z are noticeable and worthwhile. The wraparound cockpit interior, for example, has far better materials and design, and still retains the three ancillary gauges atop the center dash that are a genetic tie to the 1970 car. Given a choice, we’d all get rid of the cheesy orange “line of LEDs” displays for coolant temperature and fuel level, to the left of the suitably chunky steering wheel.
On the track, the Z is highly capable, and displays a much less frenetic demeanor than the Evo. It’s an easy car to drive at speed, putting the V-6’s power down without drama or oversteer. “Stable, with no real vices,” said Managing Editor Andy Bornhop. Although there’s no real spike to the engine’s torque curve, its delivery seems to match the rear grip level perfectly. There’s not as much feel as we’d like through the heavy steering—“The only way to feel what the front end is doing is to start overdriving it; then you feel the judder and it lets you know, ‘Hey, you’re overcooking me!’” said Kim.
Other Z strengths are a solid and precise shift linkage and brakes that offered repeatable and fade-free performance. But the engine’s Achilles’ heel is its propensity for high oil temperature, a condition that will send the car into “limp mode” and restrict engine revs to 5000 until it cools down…a real buzz kill at a track day. Said Bornhop: “A true sports car ought to be able to lap for a long time without falling into this overheating-related mode.” Added Road Test Editor Jonathan Elfalan: “A real deal-breaker for me.” True, an aftermarket oil cooler would go a long way toward remedying the problem, but an owner shouldn’t be saddled with this. The shifter’s Synchro Revmatch feature works amazingly well, blipping the throttle on downshifts automatically based on the position of the gear lever, but we found ourselves forgetting to turn it off…and when instincts take over, our heel/toe blips on top of the system’s made for a little confusion!
Also in the Z’s favor are its excellent structural rigidity, more impressive still as the 350Z’s brace across the rear suspension towers has been eliminated, which greatly improves loading ease/utility beneath the 370Z’s hatch. Yet the Z allows more tire/road noise to filter into the cockpit, and the engine is boomier than we’d like…maybe it’s better to roll the window down to hear more of the Z’s distinctive “Chewbacca” exhaust note.
At the end of the day, we’d have to go with the Evo. It’s a bit quicker in raw lap times (1:24.8 versus the Z’s 1:25.6) and feels like it could absorb abuse all day. And although its handling isn’t as precise as the Nissan’s, it’s remarkable how it repeatedly gathers itself up, no matter how ham-fistedly you throw it into a corner. On the track, its fun factor is off the charts.
Our across-the-pond pairing here consists of the composite-bodied, aluminum-tub mid-engine Evora and the massive supercharged V-8-powered XFR—the former, an accomplished triathlete who cleans up well in formal wear; the latter, a stately gent who can lay down his pipe, take off his patched-elbow tweed jacket and explode through the high hurdles in Olympic record time.
The Jag seems almost indignant that you’d ask it to lap such a tight track, but given its 4425-lb. heft—despite its aluminum unibody—it certainly doesn’t embarrass itself. With electronic nannies defeated, there’s a moderate push on corner entry, mitigated by slight, easily catchable lift-throttle oversteer. Or on-throttle oversteer; take your pick. It’s a two-stage process, not a seamless transition, and the gentler the input, the quicker the lap time. The Jag was deemed the reigning king of cool-down laps…the brakes are powerful and effective, but all that scrubbed kinetic energy ultimately manifests itself in smoke plumes curling out of the wheels’ spokes. We all agreed that the XFR is at its best on a curvy, gently undulating back road where it feels sure-footed in big sweepers, confident over crests and its instantaneous supercharged thrust can be tapped for short chutes and straightaways alike. “Love the torque of the engine, the burble of it,” said Bornhop.
Special mention must go to the Jag’s 6-speed ZF automatic that can be shifted with steering-wheel paddles. But save yourself the trouble and simply hit the button on the center console emblazoned with a little checkered flag. That puts you in Dynamic mode where automatic gear selection borders on telekinetic, always seeming to preselect the perfect cog for corner exit. Of course, attack-mode shock valving and sharper throttle response are also part of the deal, but nothing so aggressive as to be annoying on the street.
And slogging through traffic, there are few more self-indulgent places than the XFR’s interior, with textured aluminum and wood trim, redolent leather, supportive-yet-comfortable deeply bolstered seats and those cool touches on start-up that delight a first-time passenger…the shift selector knob rises out of the console, and air vents automatically swing open in unison. On the down side, the nav system is starting to show its age and the satellite radio is painfully slow to change stations. Ride quality is on the plush side of firm (Elfalan: “I thought it was too soft in its sportiest setting”) and there’s ample space for both rear seat passengers and a weekend’s worth of luggage—or test gear and helmet bags, as the case may be.
We all know that Brits use the word “brilliant!” to excess, yet nowhere is it more apropos than following a session lapping the Lotus Evora. “It’s the most formula car-esque of the group,” said Kim, “and you can really feel the wheels out at the corners and feel what the tires are doing.” Offered Bornhop: “Even though it’s only a couple hundred pounds lighter than the Z, it feels like it’s 500 pounds lighter.” Understeer is minimal, and like the Z, the torque-to-rear-tire-section-width ratio is such that you can pick up the throttle right at the apex. Brakes—and isn’t it odd to see such larger rotors and calipers on a Lotus?—are more than a match for the car’s 3155-lb. curb weight, though a bit grabby in light applications on the street.
Around Spring Mountain, the Evora’s balance was near-neutral in the faster sweepers and you can summon just the right amount of lift-throttle yaw to point it at the apex, all in one smooth action. There’s a wonderful tightness to this car, with little wasted motion in transitions.
The Camry-based 3.5-liter V-6 is, er, adequate. Powerful enough to propel the Evora to quick time of the day (1:24.82, a sneeze quicker than the Evo and 1.94 seconds quicker than the XFR), the 276-bhp engine revs nicely and supplies a dependable flow of torque but little in the way of an enthralling exhaust note. (That will change in the future, according to Lotus CEO Dany Bahar, with a modular family of Lotus-designed engines in the pipeline.) The shifter could be better too…its action was stiff, perhaps partly due to the newness of our test car. “It just doesn’t promote quick shifts,” added Bornhop.
Inside, this kinder, gentler Lotus borders on true luxury, with double-stitched black leather everywhere, heated Recaros that are electrically adjustable fore/aft, and noticeably more head room than the Z, and maybe a little more than the Jag! Entry/exit still requires a plan of attack—it’s easier than with an Elise/Exige, but there’s still a formidable high sill to negotiate. Once seated, wheel arch intrusion means no place to rest your left foot when not using the clutch. Some sightlines to controls and buttons are blocked by the small D-shaped wheel…but really, if this weren’t the case it wouldn’t be a Lotus, right? In all, it’s a huge step up from the Elise/Exige twins in terms of refinement, sound deadening and day-to-day usability.
Our test car was a 2+0 model, which means that instead of the tiny, contortionist-worthy back seat, there’s a carpeted storage area there with a cargo net across the front…by far the better option for most. The trunk, as promised, will hold a golf bag. And what bodes even better for a long day’s journey into night is the Evora’s amazingly supple ride that soaks up pavement cracks and rain gutters without flinching.
Between the Jag and the Lotus, the decision isn’t clear-cut at all. Have a family, yet still have some tiger blood coursing through your veins? The XKR gets the nod. Single, with lots of discretionary income set aside for track-day thrills? The Evora without a doubt.
In my opinion, 4 door doesnt equal sporty, even though there are plenty of 4 door turbo'd vehicles out there. Maybe I'm stupid for believing that, but when I think of sports car...I just think of coupes.
