Click on the thumbnail for a bigger version! (also, blame harvey for the less than optimal picture :)

by Harvey Xiao

This is what the Toyota Camry SHOULD be like. Boring as all hell, yes, but also composed with decent driver feedback. You see, the difference between the Volvo S70 and a Toyota Camry is that the Volvo DOES have a personality. Bland, yes, but defined nonetheless. 

Sorry. Let me take a step back. I owned a 1999 Volvo S70 for 5 months - ending just a couple months ago. Vivid memories.

Why I bought it:

Having just planted myself in this frozen wasteland we call New England, I thought I’d be conservative. Wisdom told me I needed front wheel drive - crushing my dreams of buying an old Mercedes. Diesel was out of the question, since those don’t bother starting when temperatures dip low. I’ve had several Japanese cars, but mechanics around here swear that they aren’t well-equipped to handle the cold (nyeh..  my Honda’s heater takes awhile to warm up, but that’s about it). So, out of ideas, I decided to to what any reasonable guy would do: look around. Boy, New England is Swedish country. Holy crap. Everybody and their mother-in-law drives a Volvo or Saab. Knowing little about either, I went with the prettier of the two.

This is what I found: 1999 Volvo S70 5-speed manual 99k miles for $3000.

I put in a new battery, new hoses, new O2 sensor, and began my Swedish adventure.

Ownership experience:

The design theme of this car must have been: “Seeing Squares?” The S70 - a lightly reskinned 850, was the last of the boxy Volvos. The designers lived up to Volvo’s reputation. The car is basically one big box serving as the backdrop for a collection of smaller boxes that make up the windows, door handles, turn signals, headlights, grill, trim pieces, and even the logo. The interior was much the same story - a square steering wheel wouldn’t have looked out of place. Sorry, Apple. Volvo came up with soft-edged squares first ;)

Boxy wasn’t a bad thing. Outside, the design was clean, purposeful, even handsome - or at the very least, non-offensive. The inside was ergonomically comfortable, and soothing to the look and feel. In a world of digital speedometers, neon blue radio controls, and air conditioning systems controlled through the navigation screen, the Volvo’s cabin was a thing of beauty. Big simple buttons made with high quality materials laid out in an intuitive pattern on a dash slightly offset towards the driver. Ahhhh… Honda, you reading this?

This relaxing personality carried over to the motor as well. Volvo’s naturally aspirated 20-valve 5-cylinder unit is silky smooth and quiet. The S70 isn’t quick by any standards, but felt confident, composed, and power-adequate in all situations. In conservative to moderate driving, my S70 returned 28.7 mpg - impressive for a Swedish tank. An unexpected surprise with this motor was the aggressive sounding growl in higher engine speeds, courtesy of its 4-valve / cylinder design. It reminded me of the sweet and smooth purr you get from flooring Mercedes 300CE-24 - okay, not quite that nice.

My absolute favorite part about my S70 was its 5-speed manual gearbox. It was like no other gearbox I’ve ever tried. It wasn’t so much well-engineered as it was overbuilt. Unlike a Honda transmission that slides crisply from gear to gear, the Volvo landed every shift firmly and with a confident thud. The gearbox had NO vibration in ANY gear and no trouble ever engaging reverse on the first try. Amazing. More interestingly to me, the transmission’s gearing, feel, and performance matched the rest of the car. It made me realize - this couldn’t have been a coincidence. Somebody at Volvo purposely built a car that is competent, yet bland - reliable, yet unobtrusive. That’s rather brilliant.

The actual driving experience was pretty much spot on with my expectations. The Volvo’s steering was light, provided decent feedback. Same went for the clutch. The suspension was a bit tougher than you might expect - more Honda Accord than Toyota Camry. However, the Volvo is much heavier than either, and it showed in its lack of Japanese-style bounciness. The S70 just absorbed bumps instead of bouncing over them - not a bad thing. It had a seriousness about it. The German influence shows. The S70’s cornering abilities are a huge improvement over the 240 / 740 / 940 family, thanks to a reworked front end and a semi-independent rear suspension. One surprise I noticed:This thing rattled more on Boston’s rough roads than a 3-year old Volkswagen Passat. It was awful. I guess Swedish roads are nicer than here.

Be Prepared: Volvos aren’t Hondas in resale or reliability. Read: electrical nightmare. Enough said.

Verdict: All in all, the S70 wasn’t a bad car. New or used, it represents a somewhat more expensive proposition than the Accord / Camry standard. However, it brings quirks the Japanese players don’t have - some endearing, some annoying. The S70 is a rather interesting car - interesting in its purposeful blandness and its unwillingness to step out of line in fear of upsetting the owner. It’s the perfect car for a rough commute home after a long day at the office. It’s combination swiss bank vault and chiropractic chair. I wouldn’t buy the S70 again, but I don’t regret my purchase. I just decided to get rid of it before I gained more of its personality.

Cool? 4/8 - in a “I’m grown up” way

Practical? 7/8 - It fits

Safe? 8/8 - airbag equipped bank vault

Reliable? 5/8 - It usually starts

Attractive? 5/8 - If you have a UPS packaging fetish

Value? 5/8 - open a mechanic fund

Fun? 2/8 - HA! 

When we started this site, we planned to have casual Blog Posts and structured Car Reviews. However, we struggled with defining exactly what that structure meant - until now.

Over the past few months, we’ve been brainstorming ways to rework our Car Reviews to differentiate them from casual posts, and more importantly, to be a lot of fun for you to read. This is is what we’ve come up with -massive kudos to John for transforming our ideas on paper into this awesome new layout.

One feature we’re especially proud of is the Middle Class Motoring Checklist. This consists of brief statements summarizing our thoughts on the essential elements of the car. The gas gauges are our ratings. Full is better - we’re optimistic like that.

We’ll post these to the home page as they come about. The archives can be found by clicking the “Car Reviews” tab on the menu bar.

We hope you enjoy our new reviews. Let us know your thoughts on the Contact Us tab.

Cheers!
MCM Editors 

click on the thumbnail for a full sized (ie. readable) version of the review.

Our verdict on the 2.5L (gas) Jetta: Decent, well driving car, we’d want our girlfriends to drive one.

There’s something vaguely puzzling about this car. Something about it just feels wrong. I drove this car for more than a week, and it’s taken me longer to put a finger on what exactly bugs me. First off, the dimensions are skewed. Somehow, when you look at a Jetta from the outside: it seems much bigger than you’d think it should be. Then, when you step inside: it seems much smaller than you would expect it to be for a car it’s size. Likewise, somehow the Golf (I refuse to call this car the Rabbit) seems conversely bigger than it actually is. Part of this is because the Jetta adds a sloping, lowered roofline, and the addition of a trunk decreases rear legroom by a few inches. To be fair, the trunk is very generously sized. However, If you were planning on transporting bodies for the mob, this may be the wrong car for the job. Okay, the dimensions are a bit awkward, but it doesn’t quite fully explain my unease about this car. Maybe it’s the transmission? But I’ve driven two cars with the same VW Tiptronic automatic gearbox: a Passat (a much heavier car) equipped with a 1.8T turbo and a Touran (a much heavier Jetta) equipped with the 1.9L TDI diesel engine, both in Germany, both on the autobahn and winding Bavarian/Czech mountain roads. Neither of those cars exhibited the same awkward hesitation that the Jetta has when you press down on the gas pedal. Don’t get me wrong, the car does realizes that you want to go forward when you press your foot down. In fact, it’ll agree vocally with your desire to go forward by loudly growling. However, only after waiting, thinking about it, checking the weather, looking both ways, does it actually get to the business of actually going where you tell it to go. Ah, so it must be the engine then! The numerically hilarious 2.5L FIVE cylinder that has the grunt, noise, and fuel consumption of a V6 with the power and agility of a 4-cylinder. Driving through a set of red lights with this car was enough to make me want to jump out and scream in anger. Pairing a slow acting automatic with an engine that has absolutely no notion of low end torque means you have a throttle delay response of about a second between you putting your foot down and the car reacting. It’s enough to drive you mad. However, in your lunacy you may be comforted by the loud, assertive engine growl coming from the front of the car. It does sound quite good at first in fact, enough to remind you that VW did take make this engine from half a Lamborghini V10. Unfortunately, that nice engine sound is not accompanied by any amount of useful power. You will be certain to hear that “half of a Lambo V10” most of your time in the car: It’ll be with you when you pull out of your parking spot (I was afraid I’d set off car alarms my first day with the car), it’ll be with you when you creep out of your driveway, it’ll be with you as you pass kids on the side of the street eating ice-cream who’ll drop their cones in excitement as you drive by, thinking you’re trying to make “VROOM VROOM” noises at them when you’re actually just cruising at 30. You’ll never stop hearing that engine as long as you own the car. The rest of the car however, is positive and adequate. Take the steering feel, for example: compared to the vague and indirect steering in a Civic or a Corolla, the Jetta feels direct, very German, very precise, very crisp. Therefore, unlike the girls who’ll drive it, the Jetta will actually go where you tell it to. The interior is likewise Germanic, austere, clean. Even though the plastic bits and pieces felt cheaper compared to the softer (although very similar looking) materials in my GTI, it’s still miles ahead of the yards and yards of cheap plastic in the Japanese competitors. I have to admit, after nearly a week of driving the Jetta, it ended up growing on me. I liked how when I pass people, I can rev the engine and growl angrily at how slow they are, without having to worry about accidentally breaking the speed limit. Sure you could buy a Civic instead of this car: you’d have a smoother, more fuel efficient engine and a wackier interior. But honestly given a choice between the two (or, since they’re both quite effeminate cars: two girls who own them) I’d much rather chose the one with the Jetta. Neither car can be called very good, but the Jetta is so much more interesting. And you already have too many opportunities to be boring in life.

Click on the thumbnail for a full sized version.

Our verdict on the Scion xA: Decent cheap hatchback for 2007. You can do better now.

I struggled for some time with writing this review.Truth be said, the xA was my car in college, so for me to write about the xA is a bit like having to quantifying college and distilling the experience, taking the car as a physical object aside from the car as an enabling experience, the modus operati for moving absurdly large pieces of furniture, for roadtrips and late night excursions, for dates and breakups. The story of the xA for me is inextricably linked to the ups and downs of college. And, even for me as an engineer whose used to just the numbers, it’s surprisingly difficult to separate the car as an object from the car as a backdrop to life.And, I suspect, for many other Scion owners around the country, the exact same is true. This is a brand for those in flux through life.So, with that unnecessarily long introduction, let’s start with basics. The xA is the european econobox made by Japan, a car that looked like a mouse on four wheels. Alongside its cousins in the Scion lineup the xA never made any sense: the tC was targeted towards college aged girls and rice racers, the xB toward aging hipsters and people with bad taste, but the xA was kind of an enigma: a subcompact and a four door hatch for a country that abhors both. The overwhelming feature of the car is its center mounted dash: a complete absurdity. I suppose if moving the dash to the center afforded a clear view of a well designed space between the windshield and the steering wheel, that might be excusable. Instead, cheap, untextured, monochromatic plastic fills the entire field of view in front of you, interrupted only by the glass of the windshield. Like all toyotas, this car exudes cheapness and lack of purpose and taste, designed to fill a need rather than a want, meant to be the quiet transportation appliance rather than an attractive centerpiece of one’s mobility.The car as a whole can be best described as adequate. It has all the requisite parts as required and drives and handles to sufficient accord. The hatch and fold-down rear seats is quite useful, especially for a young 20something with unexpected IKEA trips and friends with luggage consistently in need of pickup from the airport. The manual transmission is surprisingly pleasant to drive, although I can imagine the toyota automatic sapping any joy that the 4-pot engine can manage to muster. Aside from that, it has 4 doors, and it comes with windshield wipers. As a college car, it’s exceedingly simple and reliable. a set of metric wrenches and the occasional replacement part was all I needed to keep it running for more than two years. Likewise, it’s extremely affordable to own and to maintain, and struggles terribly with getting LESS than 34mpg, regardless of how hard I flogged the 100-odd horsepower 4 cylinder. That engine, by the way, like everything in toyota’s stable, is undeserving of any adjective that even hints at implying “fast” or “responsive”, but serves it’s uninspired purpose merely adequately and sufficiently. In the end, maybe the xA is one of those things, like college, that’s easier to conceptualize as a warm and, on the surface, quite pleasant memory. That is, before you remember all the late night problem sets and horrid plastic interior, the 8am finals and the uncertain roadfeel and questionable value. Like college, the xA best makes sense as a transition car, something to get you through a relatively turbulent period of your life where certainty is far from guaranteed. A car that you can count on starting when on mornings when nothing else did, a car can count on your drunk friends being able to pile into, a car you can stuff an over-sized futon into, up so tight that the gearshift can’t shift into 2nd, 4th, or reverse. But, once you have your diploma, once you get the chance to throw that square hat up in the air to pomp and circumstance, the Scion xA, along with the rest of the thoughts of all those heady, hazy, mischievous days, are best left to just that, a memory.

by Sicheng Su

It was smart of Toyota to make the xB. It looked so distinctive, you could almost forgive its ugliness and tiny engine. In fact, it’s probably a good sign for Toyota that I hate this car, because if I hate it this much, there must be other people who absolutely love it. Nonetheless, the fact remains — I hate it. 

I hate it because it looks horrendous. From the back and the sides, it looks like a giant toaster on wheels. From the front, it looks like a transformer born with a hugely deformed jaw. And, its squarish looks make the car age really fast. In fact, the harsh lack-of-curves were distinctive for it as new car precisely because they look old – no one’s made a car like that in over a decade! It’s only been few years since they were first introduced and already the xBs on the road are starting to look as ancient as my solid-steel microwave whose only button is a knob for the timer. Even the dashboard reminds me of a 1950s Mini Cooper. Also, a 1.5 liter engine on this car seems terribly insufficient, especially when carrying any passengers or cargo heavier than a Furby.

But at least it’s different. At least Toyota went all the way with their idea. And at least the small engine could make up for its terrible aerodynamics in great gas mileage. The new xB is much worse …. 
 
The old xB is like that awkward kid on the block who seemed strange, different, and funny looking at first, but then made it to the head of the pack (deformed jaw and all). It looks sharp and has an attitude. I don’t like it, but at least it holds its ground. The new xB, on the other hand, is like the old xB’s equally awkward little brother (you can tell they’re related by the genetic bulging jaw defect) who tried to imitate his older brother in every way but never really quite succeeded. Everything about it is softer and more cushy, even down to the colors available. Although length has increased, actual head- and legroom has shrunk. The dashboard has actually gotten worse – instead of a 1950s Mini, it now looks like a 1950s Cessna cockpit. And even though they freshened up the exterior, it still looks like an ugly transformer with a lower jaw deformity. The one saving grace of this car is they’ve now put in a 2.4 liter, so at least it’ll have a good amount of power, but that massive engine upsize combined with the extra 500lbs of curb weight means gas mileage has gone way down – 28mpg on the highway is not exactly class-leading for a sub $20k car.
 
In short, Toyota took what was a hideous, underpowered but economical car with distinctive character, and turned it into a slightly less hideous car with bad fuel economy and no character. I don’t like either one, but at least the old one provokes me to the point of loathing, which actually somehow makes me respect it. The new one just tries not to offend (but still does) – kind of like Ned Flanders… only uglier.

1st gen xB photo copyright middle class motoring

2nd gen xB photo courtesy of wikipedia

by John Shen

I struggled for some time with writing this review.

Truth be said, the xA was my car in college, so for me to write about the xA is a bit like having to quantifying college and distilling the experience, taking the car as a physical object aside from the car as an enabling experience, the modus operati for moving absurdly large pieces of furniture, for roadtrips and late night excursions, for dates and breakups. The story of the xA for me is inextricably linked to the ups and downs of college. And, even for me as an engineer whose used to just the numbers, it’s surprisingly difficult to separate the car as an object from the car as a backdrop to life.

And, I suspect, for many other Scion owners around the country, the exact same is true. This is a brand for those in flux through life.

So, with that unnecessarily long introduction, let’s start with basics. The xA is the european econobox made by Japan, a car that looked like a mouse on four wheels. Alongside its cousins in the Scion lineup the xA never made any sense: the tC was targeted towards college aged girls and rice racers, the xB toward aging hipsters and people with bad taste, but the xA was kind of an enigma: a subcompact and a four door hatch for a country that abhors both. 

The overwhelming feature of the car is its center mounted dash: a complete absurdity. I suppose if moving the dash to the center afforded a clear view of a well designed space between the windshield and the steering wheel, that might be excusable. Instead, cheap, untextured, monochromatic plastic fills the entire field of view in front of you, interrupted only by the glass of the windshield. Like all toyotas, this car exudes cheapness and lack of purpose and taste, designed to fill a need rather than a want, meant to be the quiet transportation appliance rather than an attractive centerpiece of one’s mobility.

The car as a whole can be best described as adequate. It has all the requisite parts as required and drives and handles to sufficient accord. The hatch and fold-down rear seats is quite useful, especially for a young 20something with unexpected IKEA trips and friends with luggage consistently in need of pickup from the airport. The manual transmission is surprisingly pleasant to drive, although I can imagine the toyota automatic sapping any joy that the 4-pot engine can manage to muster. Aside from that, it has 4 doors, and it comes with windshield wipers. 

As a college car, it’s exceedingly simple and reliable. a set of metric wrenches and the occasional replacement part was all I needed to keep it running for more than two years. Likewise, it’s extremely affordable to own and to maintain, and struggles terribly with getting LESS than 34mpg, regardless of how hard I flogged the 100-odd horsepower 4 cylinder. That engine, by the way, like everything in toyota’s stable, is undeserving of any adjective that even hints at implying “fast” or “responsive”, but serves it’s uninspired purpose merely adequately and sufficiently. 

In the end, maybe the xA is one of those things, like college, that’s easier to conceptualize as a warm and, on the surface, quite pleasant memory. That is, before you remember all the late night problem sets and horrid plastic interior, the 8am finals and the uncertain roadfeel and questionable value. 

Like college, the xA best makes sense as a transition car, something to get you through a relatively turbulent period of your life where certainty is far from guaranteed. A car that you can count on starting when on mornings when nothing else did, a car can count on your drunk friends being able to pile into, a car you can stuff an over-sized futon into, up so tight that the gearshift can’t shift into 2nd, 4th, or reverse.

But, once you have your diploma, once you get the chance to throw that square hat up in the air to pomp and circumstance, the Scion xA, along with the rest of the thoughts of all those heady, hazy, mischievous days, are best left to just that, a memory.

photo copyright middle class motoring

by Harvey Xiao

Enterprise graciously upgraded me to this for my weekend rental. I’d booked a Chevy Aveo.

It was because I showed up 2 hours late for my rental and the only cars they had left were this and a Mercedes C300. They weren’t about to give me the Benz.

This may be due to the fact that my expectations were low going in (I was expecting an Aveo after all), but this car isn’t that bad.

Let’s start with looks. It surely won’t win any prizes for sexiness, but it’s got a stroke of handsomeness about it. It’s got that brawny thing going on… everything from mirrors to taillights to door handles is rather big. It also has this S70-esk boxiness going on.  The design looks more simple and straightforward compared to its competition, even to the Hyundai Sonata from which it’s based. I’m not sure whether this was deliberately planned or blatant laziness, but it somehow works.

The interior is disappointing. It’s full of Elantra grade plastics –the type that make the new Malibu feel like the Ritz. Actually, I can spend all day talking about areas where this car falls short. But let’s remember, it’s a Kia. Their motto should really be something along the lines of “Falling short to save a buck.” So instead of listing out everything that fails to meet the standard, let me just say upfront that the Optima is a collection of cheaply made parts that could use improvement, but screwed together in a way that makes something rather adequate.

Adequate. That’s a great way to describe this car. Just about everything is very okay. The transmission is a bit slow and rough, but adequate. The steering is a bit light and disconnected, but adequate. The suspension is a bit bouncy and unstable, but adequate. The seats are shy of supportive, but adequate. You get the picture. Now, imagine my surprise when I discovered something about the Optima that is really quite good.

It’s the motor. For the love of god, get the V6. If you’re at a stage in life where an Optima is the right car, at least reward yourself to the V6. It doesn’t cost much more, but it is the one and only component in this car that surpasses the realm of adequacy. It’s not especially powerful or particularly good sounding, but it operates with the smoothness of a mid-90’s Camry V6. Even on 87 grade petrol (I’m cheap), it revs quickly and happily to its 6k rpm redline, delivering a healthy amount of torque the entire time. This scenario happened over and over: Floor the pedal at 50, the adequate transmission searches for 2^nd gear. It latches onto 2^nd hard with a big jerk and takes off. Tachometer shoots to 5 thousand, 6 thousand, then back to 4 thousand following an adequate shift into 3^rd.  I must admit, it was kind of fun.

The weekend trip averaged 20mpg. Not bad.

Bottom line: If adequacy is your thing, this is your car. I seldom recommend the bigger engine in a cheap car, but in this case, it’s a must-have. If nothing else, it’ll afford you the ability to fly past the Accord and Camry 4-bangers in your suburban life.

My final closing thought: If you like the Optima, you might want to act soon (like now), the 2010s look like a Sonata with a bad case of plastic surgery. 

photo courtesy of wikipedia

by Nicholas Hsu

I would disagree with Harvey and argue that actually, there’s nothing worse than a Kia Rio.   It’s the kind of car that – if you owned it –might make you want to give up driving altogether.

Harvey’s main complaints about the Yaris were:

• It’s pitifully underpowered
• It has a crappy transmission
• Unsupportive seats
• Engine makes thrashing noises

The Rio has all that and more, including such perks as:

• Mesh / synthetic upholstery that looks (and feels) cheaper than your college laundry bag.
• Soft springing, tuned specially for waftiness.  It’s like all the waftiness of a Kia Optima or a GM family-sedan from a few years ago, but packed into a platform that’s smaller than a Corolla’s. This might work on a large car positioned in the near-luxury market, but on a subcompact it’s ludicrous.
• Instruments so cheap it’s cynical.  The gauges don’t even use instrument needles – instead they use equilateral (or virtually equlateral) plastic triangles, with white lines painted on them.  The plastic is even transparent to hide how chunky it is, but fools nobody.
• Carpet that could have come from a vacuum cleaner bag.
• And the list goes on…

Additionally, on the image food chain, it’s farther south than the Yaris…  just because, it’s a Kia after all.  And anyone who buys a Rio (with 100,000 mile warranty and all) over say, a used Corolla or Focus, must really not care about cars.  Or driving.  Or ever had a pleasurable driving experience at any time in their life.  So you have to wonder when you see one on the road.

Back to the Yaris, it does have a following in Europe, and I imagine the 5-speed hatchback might not be so bad. Unless they detuned the suspension for the U.S. market (like Ford did for the last generation Focus), which would be a pity.

photo courtesy of wikipedia

by Harvey Xiao

Awhile ago, I saw a Boxster ad in Time Magazine. It said something like “$1/mile for the first 41k miles. Free after that.” A $41k Porsche? Appealing.

Not so fast. A quick tour around the Porsche website brings reality back into perspective. The Boxster S with some nifty options rings up a staggering $70k! Huh?

This being Middle Class Motors, let’s take a step back. Say you have $25k to spend on a roadster. What are the options? Off the top of my head … Mazda Miata, Used Honda S2000, Used BMW Z4, Used Nissan 350Z … For $25k, you can also purchase a 4yr old Boxster S with 30k miles. Considering a Boxster has the tried and true flat 6, and is really no less reliable than a VW, the Boxster suddenly becomes rather intriguing.

The Boxster looks a lot like every other Porsche. To the untrained eye, it is often mistaken to be the 911 from the front. The rear end, though strangely long for a Porsche, still somehow resembles the 911. But don’t be fooled, The Boxster is the opposite of a 911.

Whereas the 911 is helplessly rear heavy, the Boxster has near perfect weight distribution. Whereas the 911 understeers, the counters with dangerous amounts of oversteer, the Boxster’s handling is dead on. Whereas the 911’s engine hangs off its ass, the Boxster’s motor is neatly positioned (and hidden) neatly over the rear wheels. Whereas the 911 dares you to corner just a little bit faster only to shatter your confidence with a healthy slap of traction control, the Boxster instills cockiness by effortlessly creasing bend after bend (Word of caution: If you transfer this cockiness to behind the wheel of other cars, you will crash).

The 911 is a cool car because everything is wrong. The Boxster is a cool car because everything is right. The Boxster is much tamer than its big brother. Consistency is the name in this game. Much like the R8, the Boxster is an engineer’s car: logical, efficient, crisp, and fast. Compared to the 911, the Boxster seems almost practical. Almost.

If I had $25k to spend on a roadster, you’d find a silver Boxster S in my driveway in no time.

photo copyright John Shen/Middle Class Motoring

by Harvey Xiao

I rented one of these yesterday to do a last minute 350-mile drive –so I’m writing about it while it’s still fresh on my mind.

All in all, I think it was worth paying the $9 to upgrade from a Kia Rio. Yeah, that’s right, a Toyota YARIS is an UPGRADE. Just let that sink in for a moment. Thanks, Hertz… thanks.

The car has some interesting qualities. Given how small it is, it has a healthy amount of space inside. It feels narrow, but adequate. Also, the mirrors are really cool. Their shape and their positioning somehow come together and give a rather sophisticated look. I’m also quite fond of the green lighting from the stereo.. very Lexus-esk… why can’t the Camry have this?

Apparently, the Yaris is a pretty successful platform. I never realized how many of these things (Yaris, XA, XB, Prius) were on the road until I paid attention yesterday. Gosh.. I felt like there was always one in sight throughout the trip.

Ok… I really can’t be nice about this car for much longer. I HATE it. I loathe it. What a royal first-class piece of crap.

The thing is, I can spend hours ranting on about how it’s pitifully underpowered, or how it has a crappy transmission, or how it has such unsupportive seats, or how its engine makes thrashing noises, or how the radio has the most annoyingly bass-y sound I’ve ever heard, but I won’t (Although I will say 2 things: 1. I have never heard a stereo system that goes BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM when you’re listening to Classical music….all while the driver’s side support handle is rattling loudly…ugh. 2. When it decides to downshift into 3^rd on the freeway, I can’t tell the difference between the engine noise and the stereo. Go figure).

These things are annoying –very annoying, but they don’t make me HATE the Yaris. What makes me hate this car is the feeling of complete embarrassment and demoralization it invokes within me. I do NOT want to be seen with this car. If there was ever a car that made you use the back lot, this is it. In fact, I’d rather take 2 buses, 3 trains, and then walk 2 miles to work than drive within the peripheral vision of my colleagues.  The thought of owning one of these makes me cringe.

Finally, I’d like to say a line or two about another Yaris attribute. Given its size and weight (or lack thereof), this thought comes to mind: “I need to drive defensively, or I’m going to die.” Unfortunately,  the Yaris possesses neither the means nor the ambition to avoid .. situations .. gracefully.

But that’s ok. Save the car, I’d rather shoot myself.

photo courtesy of wikipedia