The decision to resurrect the Boss 302 was made in the darkest days of the recession. Is Ford brave or what? Especially since it’s so rare that offspring are able to match the feats of  legendary forebears, as Charlie Sheen can attest.

To eke out of the Mustang GT’s engine a bonus 32 horses, Ford created a new intake manifold with runners resembling velocity stacks. Different cylinder heads were deployed—stronger alloy and altered ports—with each head undergoing 2.5 hours of CNC massaging. The camshafts offer increased lift, the intake valves are larger, the bearings are race-spec, and the baffled pan holds 8.5 quarts of synthetic oil.

The result is 444 horsepower at 7500 rpm, a happy medium between the Mustang GT’s 412 horses and the Shelby GT500’s 550. The Boss’s V-8—unlike the brutish Shelby’s—doesn’t so often overwhelm its chassis. In fact, what you first notice—and this is very BMW-ish—is that the Boss’s engine, driveline, and suspension draw virtually no attention to each others’ eccentricities. It lends the package a gratifying sense of unity that inspires confidence.

This V-8 is so vigorous and charismatic that its likeness ought to be carved on Mount Rushmore. The engine revs nearly as quickly as you can flex your right foot, feeling as if it displaces maybe three liters. What’s more, despite all that cam, it idles as smoothly as a Camry.

Sans traction control, launching the Boss takes some practice, although never has practice been so fun. Sidestep the clutch with too many revs, and you’ll trigger axle tramp followed by a cumulous cloud of Pirelli particulates that will only swell in size all the way through second gear. The trick is to slip the clutch from about 3500 rpm, then mat the throttle when the axle says, “Yeah, I’m feelin’ settled and relaxed back here.” The result is 0 to 60 mph in 4.3 seconds—0.3 second quicker than the GT (or a Camaro SS) and only 0.2 second behind the jackhammer GT500. Once that live axle is placated . . . well, here’s the telltale statistic: From 5 to 60 mph, the Boss loses not an inch to the GT500 and is but 0.1 second behind a BMW M3. The accelerative kick flings sunglasses and coins and pens in the center bin backward against a plastic wall, sounding as if they’ve just hit the bottom of a ventilator shaft. Through the quarter-mile, the engine pulls like a Tennessee mule—no valleys, no holes—slingshotting the Boss 0.4 second ahead of the GT and only 1 mph behind the M3.

All of this is accompanied by a mellifluous, resonance-free exhaust note that is an unlikely aural confluence of, say, Lexus
IS F and Roush/Yates Sprint Cup engine. It’s a four-way exhaust—two sewer pipes astern and one per side exiting just in front of the rear wheels. A restrictor plate in each side pipe lends the Boss federal pass-by legality, but the baffles can be unbolted in less time than it takes to read this review. It’s lucky that the rumble is so rich, because the engine is seriously loud at idle.

The Boss’s suspension has likewise benefited from a lavish labor of love. Compared with the GT, it boasts stiffer springs, a fatter rear stabilizer bar, new bushings, and 19-inch Pirelli P Zeros that, at the rear, are mounted on 9.5-inch-wide wheels. What’s more, each shock offers five settings that are adjustable via screwdriver, creating the possibility of very strange chassis behavior at the hands of very strange owners. Again, is Ford brave or what? And experimenting with dampers is educational, fun, and will make you feel like Parnelli Jones’s crew chief.

For 2010, the folks in Crewe introduced the Mulsanne, an all-new dreadnought to replace the aging Arnage. It rides on a new platform exclusive to Bentley, although some suspension pieces are pillaged from Audi (the front control arms come from the A8, the rears from the A6 Avant). At 219.5 inches overall, the Mulsanne is about seven inches long­er than the Arnage and less than three inches shorter than a Chevrolet Suburban. Speaking of Suburbans, the Mulsanne’s 6036-pound curb weight just trails that of the last four-wheel-drive Suburban we tested. Bentley’s new flagship carries six more inches between its axles than the Arnage, which contributes to an appreciable boost in interior space.

Although it may not immediately appear so (Bentley V-8s have displaced 6.8 liters for the better part of Betty White’s career), the engine is all-new as well. While the pushrod valvetrain, the bore-center spacing, and the bore and stroke remain the same, the block, the heads, and the major internal parts are new. For the first time ever in a Bentley, the Mulsanne’s engine features cylinder deactivation. With a pair of Mitsubishi turbos squeezing a maximum of 16 psi into the manifold, the big eight grinds out 505 horsepower at 4200 rpm and, oh, 752 pound-feet of torque at just 1750. That’s only 13 pound-feet fewer than the ­diesel in a heavy-duty Chevy Silverado, peaking just 150 rpm later. The Mulsanne’s redline is a similarly ­diesel-low 4500 rpm. This sort of grunt could affect plate tectonics. Rope this thing to one bank of the Mariana Trench, and you could cinch it shut like a doctor suturing a lacerated thumb.

Based largely on its string of Le Mans 24-hours wins before and after the Great Depression obliterated the car business (plus one repeat victory in 2003), Bentley says it builds cars for drivers, a seemingly preposterous claim. It builds cars that are the size of  houses, as opulent as old English manors, and as expensive as the average suburban castle. Cars for drivers? Bah! Sounds like cars for residents. To test our theory, we decided to live in the Mulsanne for a weekend.

As cars go, the Mulsanne is better suited to living than most. The square footage inside is roughly what this $328,365 example’s price tag would buy in Manhattan, and the furnishings are supremely comfortable. Numerous 12-volt outlets scattered around the interior allow simultaneous operation of a TV, a grill, and a refrigerator, and the rear seating compartment boasts power shades on all windows. However, the Mulsanne’s heating system, reliant as it is on a twin-turbo V-8, is vastly less efficient than the heating systems of most homes. On the plus side, it’s highly doubtful your furnace could propel anything to a top speed of 187 mph.

On the list of tasks for which a Bentley is perfectly suited, accruing straight-line speed ranks right alongside the other important stuff; things like cultivating envy, sowing seeds of jealousy, and inspiring covetousness. Were one to be so crass as to drag-race a Mulsanne, his win light would illuminate in just 13.4 seconds as he whisked past at 105 mph. Along the way, 60 mph would have fallen in 4.9 seconds, 100 in 12 flat. Of course, effort is so déclassé. The most incredible thing about the Mulsanne’s engine—the “6 3/4-litre,” as it’s been known to the decimal-averse for decades, is backed by the ZF eight-speed auto currently found in the Audi A8, the BMW 760Li and 5-series GT, the Rolls-Royce Ghost, and your underwear drawer—is how easily it catapults such tremendous mass. It’s like having world-champion strongman Mariusz Pudzianowski help you move your fridge—a monumental task for a mere mortal, in this case accomplished with no evident exertion. Credit the low redline for the lazy impression, as it has the ZF snatching the next gear just as the engine starts to sound like it might be trying. Instead, the soundtrack is a relaxed, low rumble; pure, unruffled snort.

Like a big shiny Christmas present, BMW delivered our long-wheelbase 750Li xDrive in late December 2009 for a 40,000-mile evaluation. Our love of huge back seats and mobile status symbols notwithstanding, we requested a 7-series for a higher purpose: to see if the new car was indeed a return to form after the notoriously troublesome, overly ­complicated, over-the-top, overwrought, fourth-generation 7-series. Is that chapter of 7-series history over?

Styling-wise, simplicity appears to be back at BMW. But it’s only skin-deep. Greater-than-ever complexity and luxury lurk beneath the fifth-generation 7er, especially when equipped like our long-termer.

Bursting at the door skins with $29,600 of technology, safety, appearance, and luxury options, our 750Li was the magazine’s most-expensive long-term car ever. BMW sent us every available package: M Sport with 20-inch wheels ($7800), ­Luxury Seating and Cold Weather ($2800), Luxury Rear Seating ($3700), Rear Entertainment ($2200), Premium Sound ($2000), Convenience ($1700), Driver Assistance ($1350), and Camera ($750). BMW didn’t stop there, adding radar-based cruise ­control ($2400), night vision with pedestrian detection ($2600), a head-up display ($1300), satellite radio ($350), and “ceramic controls” ($650), an appearance option that trims the iDrive, volume, and ventilation controls in a black finish. This level of decadence usually ends in someone losing their head, figuratively or literally.

It didn’t take long to realize that we didn’t like or want most of the extras. For the majority of the test, the blind-spot-detection and lane-departure-warning ­systems that come as part of the Driver Assist­ance package remained off so as to silence their pestering beeps. For the same reason, we typically turned off the collision warning that comes bundled with the radar-based cruise control. A few drivers switched off the head-up display after realizing that it disappeared behind polarized sunglasses. Night vision, here an infrared camera that looks in front of the car for pedestrians or animals, allowed us to see in the dark, but it required the driver to monitor the screen at the center of the dashboard instead of the road. Deputy editor Daniel Pund called it “spectacularly distracting.” Another editor asked, “With xenon headlights this good, who needs infrared?”

Escaping the overly protective auspices of the active cruise control proved impossible. “Can we please have a button to shut off the radar portion of the cruise control?” asked senior editor Tony Swan. “Even in its most-aggressive setting, it holds the car a long way back from the car ahead. Maintaining a constant speed is nearly impossible.”

We would have been content to eat our 7-series cake without all of the frosting. What we really liked about the 750Li is all there at the $89,480 base price. Every 750Li comes with a 400-hp, 4.4-liter twin-turbo V-8. It pulled our 4980-pound limo from 0 to 60 in 5.1 seconds when new (5.3 seconds after 40,000 miles). Smooth and willing to rev, this turbocharged engine has turbo-less immediacy. Though it might be smaller than the previous 7-series’ naturally aspirated 4.8-liter, the downsizing hasn’t improved fuel economy. City mileage dropped from 15 mpg to 14, and the highway number went from 23 to 21 and down to 20 with xDrive all-wheel drive. Over the course of 40,000 miles, our 750Li xDrive burned premium at a rate of 18 miles per gallon.

An appetite for fuel didn’t stop the 7-series from becoming the office’s road-trip vehicle of choice. “Provided you have the time, a 750Li is a tempting alternative to flying,” commented former technical director Dave VanderWerp. First-class accommodations, from the spacious interior to the standard front seats that bend to your will, helped make short work of 1000-mile trips to New York and Virginia. Traveling by 7-series may take longer than flying, but that’s more of a speed-limit problem.  At 70 mph, our 750Li is only 65 decibels away from complete silence, and it doesn’t get much louder from 70 mph to 100. “Cruising at 85 mph is too easy, and if there weren’t a head-up display, I’d be going 100 mph. Right car, wrong country,” wrote technical editor K.C. Colwell.

During the six months of the year when Michigan resembles Antarctica, we appreciated the heated steering wheel and seats, and especially the xDrive. A weak and dribbling windshield-washer spray, possibly in need of Flomax, proved to be the only part that wasn’t winter-ready. New to the 7-series, BMW’s xDrive all-wheel-drive system allocates nearly all of the engine’s power to the rear wheels under most conditions to maintain rear-wheel-drive handling characteristics. Should the rear tires slip, an electronically controlled clutch pack sends power to the front wheels. The main benefit is extra traction under acceleration.

Stopping and cornering in the slippery stuff was another matter, so we replaced the 20-inch Goodyears with a set of Pirelli -Winter 270 Sottozero Serie II run-flat tires on 19-inch wheels (19-inch winter tires are more readily available). The Pirellis introduced an annoying vibration at highway speeds. Three attempts to balance the tires didn’t fix the problem, which pointed to an issue with the Sottozeros themselves. We returned the defective tires, and Pirelli sent us a second set, which cured the shakes. On the Pirelli rubber, the 7-series’ traction and secure handling on snow and ice led associate online editor David Gluckman to quip, “This car could probably groom Colorado ski runs.”

Unfortunately, our tire problems weren’t limited to wintertime. Riding on 20-inch wheels, the Goodyear run-flats have little in the way of sidewalls. A 4980-pound curb weight, sidewalls that are more membrane than scarp, and scabby pavement resulted in three irreparably damaged front tires. Each replacement cost $389.

Near the end of our test (31,500 miles), we swapped out both rear Goodyears when a misaligned suspension chewed the inside of both tires’ treads to their cords. Since our local dealer didn’t have an alignment rack suitable for this car, it took a few weeks to get the 750Li repaired, at a cost of $302. The replacement rear tires were a not-insubstantial $429 each.

We also shelled out $2529 for a new aluminum hood after large irreparable dents mysteriously appeared at about 10,000 miles. A leading theory involves actress Tawny Kitaen writhing provocatively on the hood to Whitesnake’s magnum opus, “Here I Go Again.”

When the previous-generation Civic arrived in 2006, the swept-back windshield and the futuristic styling were a bit of a shock. It has taken us practically the car’s entire life cycle to grow accustomed to the look. Honda designers aren’t taking the same kind of chance again. What we see for 2012 is a careful evolution of the past Civic. Actually, it’s almost more of a devolution, a step toward conformity. All the subtle changes—the longer hood, the sculpted bumpers, and the larger taillights—make the Civic look more conventional than before. They also improve its aerodynamics. Honda claims a lower coefficient of drag, in part thanks to the styling revisions but also because of a smaller grille opening and a flat underbody.

Still Alien Inside

Inside, the Civic keeps the two-tier instrument display that puts the digital speedometer above the analog tachometer. Like the exterior, the interior is immediately familiar yet new. Plastic quality improved slightly, and there is interesting rice-paper-like graining on the door panels. Thinner A-pillars aid forward visibility, and new seats feel more supportive—mercifully, they have less-intrusive lumbar support. A new five-inch display is standard on all models above the most basic DX trim level. Dubbed the “intelligent Multi-Information Display,” the screen sits to the right of the speedometer and gives trip computer, audio, clock, and (on cars so equipped) navigation information.

Although the sedan’s 105.1-inch wheelbase is now 1.2 inches shorter, rear legroom increases by 1.6 inches. Overall length, height, and width all remain unchanged, but the Civic feels wider and more spacious inside. Honda claims shoulder room has increased by nearly three inches. The front passenger certainly feels farther away than before. According to the EPA, the new Civic sedan has 94.7 cubic feet of space inside. That works out to about four more than in last year’s car.

Civic coupes have an even shorter 103.2-inch wheelbase, 1.1 inches shorter than the outgoing model’s. Interior space falls slightly from 83.7 cubic feet to 83.2, or 82.6 with a sunroof. From the front seat, the coupe feels just as spacious as the sedan. The reduction in cubic feet must have come at the expense of the back seat, which we didn’t try to climb into. Would you?

Same Size but Drives Larger

Once we were under way, the impression of increased size and a more substantial feel continued. Tweaks to the strut front and multilink rear suspension yield more travel and a slightly smoother ride. Large impacts seem more distant than before and are absorbed by a unibody structure that is slightly more rigid. Not only is it stiffer, but it’s also slightly lighter than before. The greatest weight loss, 58 pounds, occurs in the EX-L sedan. Other versions are between 20 and 55 pounds lighter than they were last year.

Modifications to the electric power steering include a slower ratio and a rack that is more rigidly mounted. Compared with its predecessor, the new Civic turns into corners with less authority, which adds to the car’s larger feel. The electric power steering is very numb, providing less feedback than before. Overall, the car’s stiffer body, increased sound deadening, and sleepier steering are more about maturity than playfulness. There’s a greater sense of isolation from the road, and drivers who equate isolation with luxury will appreciate the changes. Drivers who relished the small-car—almost sports-car-like—personality of the Civic might be disappointed.

It’s understandable that the cops gawked. The new Focus is handsome. “We really worked hard to get strong lower graphics, that rising beltline, and the A-pillars slammed so flat,” says executive director of design Moray Callum. He previously penned the Mazda 3 and is not only Ian’s brother (he of Jaguar styling fame) but also so uncannily resembles British actor Ricky Gervais that, before you can mention it, he says, “I’m not as funny as that guy.” Except he is.

Developed and tuned in Germany, the Focus will hit showrooms more or less unaltered in 120 worldwide markets. In North America, it will be available as a sedan or five-door hatch, starting at $16,995 and $18,790 respectively. The wagon stays in Europe. Sedan/hatchback dimensions are identical, save length. The hatch is 6.9 inches shorter, yet all of its interior measurements—except rear headroom—are undiminished. And the hatchback’s 23.8 cubic feet of cargo space, behind the second row, easily surpasses the sedan’s 13.2-cubic-foot trunk. For two adults, rear-seat comfort is good in all directions except straight ahead. Our knees scraped the front seatbacks. But there’s plenty of footroom under the front seats, and the aggressively Euro-firm cushions encourage Emily Post posture all ’round.

Interior surfaces are an order of magnitude richer, easily matching what’s now offered within the modern cabins of the Chevy Cruze and Hyundai Elantra. Moreover, it speaks volumes that Ford benchmarked this car against an Audi A3, then supplied an A3 at the preview for back-to-back comparisons. That really confused the border guards.

Consider yourself free to ignore the slightly frumpy sedan. “Well, strangely, it’s the sedan that achieves a 0.297 coefficient of drag,” Callum points out, although he counts it as a pyrrhic victory. Ford’s engineers confessed that the hatchback is torsionally stiffer than the sedan, a trait they claim lends it “sharper handling, with a slightly clearer sense of straight ahead.”  We thought so, too.

Great Manual, Great Engine

The comparo car triumphed, in spite of its PowerShift six-speed dual-clutch automatic, which most of us feel isn’t very good. Instead of being free to do what such boxes do best—execute whip-crack ratio swaps—it’s programmed to impersonate a torque-converter autobox, slurring shifts and generally making a nuisance of itself. Ford’s latest estimates say 93 percent of Focus buyers will opt for the PowerShift; we say that’s a lot of people who should learn to drive a stick. The manual’s action is direct, the engagement is positive, and the throw length is just right. Clutch effort is well matched to the resistance of the shifter and gas pedal, something too many manual setups simply get wrong.

The manual is bolted to Ford’s 2.0-liter direct-injection Ti-VCT four, and it’s the best small engine we’ve driven from the blue-oval company. With 160 hp and 146 lb-ft, it’s not particularly burly—we hit 60 in 7.3 seconds and covered the quarter-mile in 15.9—but it is incredibly smooth all the way to the redline, with no surge or drop-off in power delivery. It’s an all-new design crafted using existing (albeit reworked) tooling from previous Ford four-cylinders. Fuel economy is rated at 26 mpg city/36 highway; we achieved 29 over more than 800 miles of mixed driving.

Get the Sport Package—Seriously

Besides the automatic, the other key omission from our test car was the slow and finicky MyFord Touch option. We instead had the regular MyFord setup, which also can be slow (especially the transitions from screen to screen) but is more intuitive and includes plenty of goodies such as caller ID, text-message alerts, Sync voice activation, and a high-res info screen in the gauge cluster.

The SE hatchback starts at $18,790, and this example hit our lot with an additional $2500 in options. The Rapid Spec package 203A tacked $1195 to the sticker and brought the MyFord setup, Sirius satellite radio, cruise, and USB and aux inputs, among other baubles. The Winter package is a $570 necessity for those in cold-weather country, adding heated front seats, all-weather floor mats, and heated power side mirrors with integrated turn signals.

It’s the least-powerful F-150, and it borrows the least-powerful Mustang engine. Least powerful, however, doesn’t mean weak. Ford’s 3.7-liter V-6 makes 302 hp and 278 lb-ft of torque in the truck and ostensibly replaces the old 292-hp, 4.6-liter V-8, which it bests in hp, modernity, and fuel efficiency. The result is an eminently usable full-size truck with a downsized engine. Although the 3.7-liter can be found in the engine bay of trucks of all cab styles, you can’t option a V-6 SuperCrew with four-wheel drive or a long bed. The upside: You get an extra change holder on the dash where the 4×4 controls would be.

How Does It Drive?

At more than 5200 pounds—about 120 fewer than its next-heaviest and next-most-powerful sibling, with the 5.0-liter V-8—there isn’t much truck downsizing to match the smaller engine. Still, this XLT example managed to hit 60 mph in 7.6 seconds and complete the quarter-mile in 15.9 at 89 mph. The engine is quiet—remarkably so at idle—but makes itself known when reaching toward the top of the 7000-rpm tach, emitting a pleasant, purposeful sound. We made it do that often, because although it has guts, this engine nevertheless has to be worked to get moving quickly. Plus, we enjoyed the juxtaposition of screaming-to-6900-rpm-redline engine audio and the visual cues of driving a truck. That persistent goosing of the right pedal led to observed fuel economy of 15 mpg, below the EPA’s 17 mpg city/23 highway ratings.

As with other F-150s, there’s little to complain about. The ride is decent, the interior is comfortable and attractive if a bit busy, and the six-speed automatic does what you think it should. We were, however, disappointed with this particular truck’s steering, which was lacking in feel and feedback. Although the same electrically assisted setup is used in other F-150s, its behavior differed greatly from that of a 4×4 5.0-liter truck we recently drove. We spoke with Ford about it, and the company chalks it up to reduced weight over the front end (lighter engine, no four-wheel-drive components) and differing wheel-and-tire packages (the V-6 truck had 18-inch wheels, and the 5.0 had 17s). It seems the system would benefit from specific calibrations for different applications, but it’s likely that truck buyers won’t mind terribly, especially if they don’t drive the trucks back-to-back. Or as briskly as we do.

How Does It Stack Up?

Let’s answer this question by naming other full-size crew-cab trucks with capable (i.e., not dog slow) V-6 engines. Uh, well, Nissan doesn’t offer a V-6 in the Titan, Toyota will sell you a 270-hp 4.0-liter only in regular-cab and Double Cab versions of its Tundra, and Dodge and GM have anemic sixes available solely in stripped work trucks. In addition, Ford generally offers more choice and customization with its V-6 trucks while keeping the price reasonable.

In the F-150 lineup, what configuration and option limitations exist with the V-6 are removed if you step up to the 360-hp, 5.0-liter V-8. Ford also offers a 6.2-liter V-8 and its 3.5-liter EcoBoost twin-turbo V-6 in some trims. Most casual truckers’ needs can be met with the V-6–equipped truck—this one is rated to tow 5700 pounds, for example—but if you need more power, it’s available.

What’s the Cost?

An F-150 with a V-6, regular cab, short box, and two-wheel drive is priced from $23,765. This four-door example starts at $33,170 with XLT trim, the nicest available with the six, and our test example had several option packs: a $375 tow package, the $950 XLT Convenience package (power driver’s seat, power heated mirrors, Sync, power-adjustable pedals, a 4.2-inch info display in the IP), and the $1595 XLT Chrome package (chrome 18s, chrome side steps and billet-style grille, and chrome for the door handles and exhaust tip). We’d recommend skipping the chrome portion, but selecting all three brings a $1500 discount, whereas the first two alone carry a $750 markdown. Stand-alone options on this truck include a limited-slip rear diff and cloth front bucket seats, each of which runs $300, and $75 for a driver’s-door keypad. For reference, adding a 5.0-liter V-8 to the F-150 costs $1000.

Fortunately, respectability is booming among compact sedans as the class itself matures alongside its target customers. All five of the cars gathered here are new within the last two years, with the Hyundai Elantra, the Ford Focus, and the Volkswagen Jetta fresh off their debuts. And, while all five have entry prices of less than $17,000, an essential part of the startup mind-set is pretending you’ve already made it. We therefore checked out an example of each car possessing a sticker fiddled appropriately upmarket, with optional engines, automatic transmissions, and uplevel trims, landing them in the $23,000-to-$26,000 range. (Regrettably, there was no way to achieve stick-shift parity in this group.)

The elephant not in this room is the Honda Civic, a bestseller and all-around nice guy. Generation nine of Honda’s compact wonder was on the verge of introduction as this was written and thus unavailable for our testing, but watch for a mano a mano between the Honda and the winner of this comparo in an upcoming issue.

For now, our reigning segment champion is the Mazda 3, which prevailed over a Kia Forte and a Volkswagen Golf in a previous comparo . Newish last year, the 3 rides on a platform largely unchanged from the car that was introduced in 2004. Not a problem, we said, naming it to our 10Best list for 2010.

On sale in Europe for two years already, the Chevrolet Cruze is actually older than the 3, but it is newer to the U.S. market. It rides on a platform that shares virtually nothing with its predecessor—a good start. In replacing the Cobalt, the Cruze had small shoes to fill, and it has positively exploded their seams. In our first test, we said, “a Cruze, in a comparison test right now, might very well win.”

When we first sampled the IS F, however, it was clear it wasn’t quite up to the task for which Lexus swore it wasn’t intended but everybody knew it was. The BMW M3 is a perennial 10Best winner, and its head-to-head battle with the IS F is just one of the current car’s five C/D comparison-test victories.

A Thorough Revamp

Still, the IS F had serious potential; its 416-hp V-8 left no doubt about that. But its ride and handling simply didn’t deliver. It would hobbyhorse down uneven pavement and batter occupants in a straight line but roll excessively in corners. For 2011, Lexus addressed these concerns in a big way, changing or retuning every major suspension component. There are softer front springs, stiffer rear springs, larger-diameter anti-roll bars front and rear, stiffer bushings on the rear subframe and rear anti-roll bar, and a new steering knuckle and front lower control arms for reduced unsprung mass. Oh, and the rear camber is tweaked as well. The honking V-8 and the eight-speed automatic carry over unchanged, but a Torsen limited-slip replaces the previously open differential. Engineers also retuned the electric power steering, injecting a dose of much-needed feel.

With these changes, the IS F goes from subpar to front-runner. At our latest Lightning Lap track romp at Virginia International Raceway, the 2011 car posted a lap as quick down to the 10th as any we’ve recorded from an M3 coupe (3:05.4), despite weighing roughly 200 more pounds and having only two extra ponies. A lap time is a great measuring stick for performance, but all-out driving alone does not tell the whole story. The ride is still rough but far more livable, and cruising around town in the F is an exercise in sublime stealth. Keep the revs below 4000, and the car will pass into the casual onlooker’s unconscious as just an average sedan. Crank the revs and hit the sport button, and the F becomes a green-light monster, devastating every Japanese car this side of the Nissan GT-R and broadcasting it with a burly exhaust note on throttle and back-pressure burbling off.

A spirited stint on a country road highlights the F’s newfound handling prowess. Corners are inhaled as the driver’s confidence builds. The retuned electric steering feels more natural, more like traditional hydraulically boosted steering, although our skidpad revealed that maximum lateral acceleration, at 0.90 g, is unaffected by the suspension changes. The brake pedal is reassuringly firm. Cracking off shifts with the steering-wheel-mounted paddles doesn’t make us miss a clutch pedal as much as we thought we would, and the swaps feel as quick as any dual-clutch box’s. An audible shift warning lets the driver keep his eyes off the large, centrally located tachometer and on the road. Although we would normally object to an idiot buzzer, with eight ratios to work with and 371 lb-ft of torque hurrying the car through each one, shifts are frequent.

A Different Kind of Green

At the drag strip, our 2011 test car didn’t quite measure up. It was a few 10ths off the other Fs we’ve tested, turning in a 4.7-second 0-to-60-mph run and a 13.1-second quarter-mile at 110 mph. That this car had a fairly green engine, with fewer than 1000 miles on its clock, could account for the drop in performance. Our past IS F test cars all ran to 60 in 4.4 or fewer seconds, with the quickest turning in a 12.8-second quarter at 114 mph. Either way, with its sub-four-second 60-mph dash and low-12-second quarter-mile, the M3 betters the F in a straight line.

The Lexus also trails the M3 in the price wars. A base IS F runs $61,535 compared with the M3 sedan’s $58,075—M3 coupes start at $61,075. Pricing has yet to be released for the updated 2012 Mercedes-Benz C63 AMG, but the 2011 sedan starts at $61,175. The 2011 IS F’s base price is an increase of $2200 over the 2010 model’s, and well worth it. The car tested here also had a package bundling touchscreen navigation with a 14-speaker Mark Levinson stereo for $3925 and dynamic cruise control for $1500. A cargo net for $64 and a trunk mat for $73 bumped the total to $67,097. We’d recommend forgoing the fancy cruise and the nickel-and-dime stuff, getting the navigation-only option for $2485, and reserving the roughly $3000 difference for replacement tires. Trust us, you’ll need them.

Ducking through a scissor door and beneath the low roof—the Aventador is only 44.7 inches tall—we wedge ourselves into the narrow racing seat. It feels like we’re sitting barely one inch off the pavement as we reach up to pull the door closed. The pedals and steering wheel are perfectly positioned, without any of the uncomfortable offset of the Murciélago’s, which skewed to the right to make room for that monstrous left-front tire. The rest of the interior is a radical break with Lamborghini tradition, a mix of fighter-jet cockpit and video-game fantasy. The instrument panel is a thin-film transistor (TFT) display packed with information and offering the choice of either a speedo or tach as the main dial. We won’t complain about the limited visibility to the sides and back; this is a Lamborghini, not a VW Golf.

Lambo’s Personal-Use Volcano

Safeguarded by a red cover, the starter button awaits. With a satanic rumble, the 6.5-liter V-12 behind us erupts, seemingly with the first crank of the starter. In all it does, the Aventador’s new V-12 is a remarkably responsive engine—with just the slightest tap of the throttle, revs rise and fall with F1 quickness. Switch it off, and the suddenness of the silence is disorienting. Even if the displacement is the same, this is not the Murciélago engine. Indeed, Lamborghini increased the bore by seven millimeters while shortening stroke by 12.6, which could allow this engine to rev even higher than the 8500-rpm redline of the Murci mill. (Read our in-depth look at the Aventador’s engine here.) Peak output is 691 hp at 8250 rpm and 509 lb-ft of torque at 5500, increases of 59 hp and 22 lb-ft over the Murciélago’s V-12. Smoother, but still with plenty of bark, it’s lighter and mounted lower in an aluminum frame connected to the carbon-fiber monocoque.

Surprisingly, Lambo’s new engine is not direct injected. The Italian excuse is that it already is 20 percent more efficient than its predecessor, although we’re expecting EPA ratings of 10 mpg in the city and 14 on the highway, only 1 mpg better than the Murciélago in the city and the same for long hauls. Of course, summoning all 691 hp will push that figure deep into single-digit range.

Pulling the paddle on the right shifts the car into first. The single-clutch, seven-speed automated Graziano gearbox is lighter and more compact than a dual-clutch unit, which helped Lamborghini meet its 3472-pound (dry) weight target for the Aventador. (Sadly, there will be no manual transmission offered.) With all fluids aboard, the Aventador should come in somewhere between 3700 and 3800 pounds, a few hundred pounds lighter than the Murciélago. Like many modern sports cars, the Aventador’s top gear exists to maximize fuel economy during high-speed cruising; the car actually reaches its 217-mph top speed in sixth.

3. . . 2. . . 1. . .

You’ll want to take a moment—and a few deep breaths—before flooring the throttle. The driver hardly has time to gasp before the Aventador hits 60 mph, which we estimate will take only 2.8 seconds. The 100-mph mark should pass in around 6.5 seconds and the quarter-mile will take less than 11. The rate of acceleration hardly seems to slow below 200 mph, and thanks to the hyperquick gear changes, there is zero perceptible lull during upshifts. The Aventador is equipped with a high-end audio system, but we prefer to listen to the conversation between our right foot and the engine. The V-12 makes a powerful low-frequency roar at lower engine speeds, which becomes a thunderstorm over 3500 rpm. Stay on the throttle and, beyond 5000 rpm, the Lambo V-12 sounds like the apocalypse.