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A few months ago, Honda kicked the rumor can a little farther down the road with renewed talk of a long-awaited successor to their groundbreaking NSX exotic. For a while, the safe money had been on a Formula 1-inspired V10 as the upcoming car’s powerplant, but as high-revving, naturally-aspirated engines are presently unfashionable in the range-topping stratum of high-end sports sedans and sports cars, lately the odds have been on yet another hybrid, this time a combination of a breathed-upon standard Honda V6 and an electric motor.

Regardless of what motivates it, an NSX sequel would be a welcome addition to Japan’s portfolio of Porsche- and Ferrari-fighters, a dossier currently containing just a pair of files in the Nissan GT-R and Lexus LFA. For their part, both Honda and Mazda have so far declined to pick up the succession of gauntlets thrown down by the Europeans.

As with the rumors of a possible Porsche 928 successor, the talk of a sequel makes me eager to revisit the original. The NSX is member of that cadre of sport cars, like the Porsche 993 Turbo or Caterham Superlight R500, that I would give a kidney to drive, or even just experience for a few minutes.

When the NSX burst onto the world stage in 1990, it truly shifted the paradigm for supercars. The lightweight aluminum construction, the user-friendliness and reliability, the corner-slicing purity of the handling, the choice of a high-revving, docile-but-potent naturally-aspirated V6 over a more exotic engine design—these decisions rocked the establishment. Ferrari developed the F355 in response, at the time their best all-around car, with its new (thanks to the NSX’s influence) emphasis on drivability, balance and handling. Gordon Murray even used the NSX as inspiration for his almighty McLaren F1, seeking to reproduce the flexibility, ease of use and bandwidth of the Acura, albeit with more than twice as much horsepower as the Japanese car. If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, the NSX would have drowned in a sea of adulation from its peers.

From a design standpoint, at least in its ’95-’01 body-colored-roof, pop-up headlight incarnation, the car is a perfect 10. Demure but shapely, reserved but absolutely unmistakable, the lines are a tour de force of functional but deeply pleasing style. I appreciate the interior design in particular—it’s exceedingly well laid out, with a businesslike but fighter-jet feel. The low cowl improves sightlines over the front corners, and the center console design seems to effortlessly sweep the car forward. It’s an environment where I could see myself spending quite some time.

Car and Driver is reporting that reliable sources confirm the hybrid version of the upcoming A6 is a lock for the US.

Now, my first impulse is to gloss over the mechanical details in favor of raving about the updated design which, to be sure, is drop dead gorgeous. No other automaker creates cars as stunningly tasteful as Audi, the presence of which quality is a sure-fire indicator the styling will age well. Stack any Audi of the past 10 years next to its main competition at the time, and chances are the Audi’s looks will still exude a freshness and modernity when compared to its increasingly dated-looking rivals. Like a well-tailored suit, Audis never go out of style. Especially as BMW styling has gotten more fanciful and experimental, their competition from Ingolstadt has taken over the Bavarian automaker’s role of bringing definite, rational and graceful German styling to the masses.

Having indeed given free rein to my first impulse and discussed the new A6 Hybrid’s looks up front, it will be said that there’s nothing revolutionary about the car’s powertrain configuration. As in most other hybrids, a 4-cylinder (turbocharged in this case) gasoline engine and electric motor cooperate and deliver 245 hp and 354 lb-ft of torque, and return 37 mpg. Pretty standard, and might I add, developed without taxpayer mandates or subsidies (*cough*ChevyVolt*cough*). Just goes to show that if the car is successful (and there’s no reason to believe it won’t be—just look at it), it will reinforce the notion that it is possible to build alluring alternative-propulsion cars without having to “stack the deck,” courtesy of John Q. Public.

Even if, for some unfortunate reason, the A6 Hybrid tanks, it will still, while it lives, lay claim to the title of the most stylish hybrid on the market. But being an Audi, you wouldn’t expect anything less.

If you can’t join ’em, detail their cars.

Although, at the going rate of around $16,000 for the full treatment, Dubai’s Frederick Faidhi may well be able to “join ’em” sooner rather than later.

He runs Monza Ultimate Detailing and Protection, a money-no-object detailing company based in the UAE. His well-off customers, frequently younger men, shell out anywhere from $10,000 to $16,000 for the outfit’s services, which include microscopically-inspected paint care and restoration as well as fanatically fastidious upholstery maintenance. The object of the 25-30 hour treatments is for the cars to drive away in better-than-new condition. Faidhi says,

“Ten cars are in my work shop right now and it’s spectacular to come in in the morning and enjoy spending time with these incredible cars.”

I guess there’s more than one way to hang out with cars you lust after.

Three, actually, if you count both Mazdas. Hot on the heels of Mercedes’ recent unveiling of their tectonic C63 AMG Coupe Black Series, Mazda has released a pair of UK-only cosmetic packages for their MX-5 roadster and Mazda 2 hatchback: The Black Sport and Black, respectively. I guess you can’t copyright a color if it’s part of a car’s name.

In keeping with the tradition of earlier Black Series cars, Mercedes has stuffed an earth-moving 6.2l, 509 hp V8 under the hood and outfitted the body with aerodynamic touches and DTM-style boxy fender flares. The peripheral mechanical organs are upgraded as well, the suspension is stiffened and the interior receives race-like buckets, among other details.

I have to admit I’m still at a bit of a loss as to what exactly Mercedes is trying to achieve with the car. Are they going for the hardcore track day enthusiasts? If so, why not strip even more weight out of the car and push the specifications further into racer territory, like BMW did with their (overpriced) M3 GTS? At least the car is equipped with a dual-clutch manual as opposed to a traditional automatic, as in the unloved SLR McLaren. If they’re after the typical Mercedes customer who wants a bit, well, more, surely the idea of trundling along the highway in butt-hugging Recaros, knowing every plebeian in a Mustang GT is eying the garish fender flares is somewhat…beneath them, no? As with previous Black Series powerhouses, this one seems like it suffers from something of an identity crisis. That said, I’m sure it goes like stink.

For Mazda’s part, the changes to the cars in question aren’t nearly as extensive, but it’s still interesting that they’d assign the name “Black” to the option packages, given the German automaker’s prominent use of it for several years now. Perhaps limiting them to the UK market dampens any potential trademark conflict; who knows.

The MX-5 Black Sport and Mazda 2 Black basically offer a limited exterior and interior palette, special gunmetal-colored wheels and in the case of the Mazda 2 Black, a black vinyl roof. That’s pretty much it. Nice to move some volume, but I wouldn’t run around bragging to all my friends and relatives that I had purchased a limited-edition Mazda Black! Just not really worth it, you know?

Exit question: With the “claiming” of random letters of the alphabet by the in-house tuning divisions of various automakers (Cadillac has V, BMW claims M, Lexus nabbed F and Audi has spoken for S and possibly R as well), are colors the next logical step in staking out a brand’s special-edition territory? Might we see, say, an Acura “Blue Line” or a Dodge “Orange Blast” some time in the near future?

My 7-year-old son Luke and I visited the “BMW store” today to stroll the lot and check out the recent 1-series coupe facelift, pictured above.

It really is a very mild refresh for the coupe, in contrast to the Euro-only redesign of the 1-series hatchback. The headlights have gained subtle “eyebrows,” the taillights have acquired horizontal bands a la E60 refresh, and the body lowers (side skirts and front and rear valences) have been reprofiled. I don’t believe they actually changed any of the sheet metal. The 135i receives the single turbo, 300 hp N55, while the 128i soldiers on with the naturally-aspirated 230 hp N52, same as before.

I was very pleased by the way it looked. The new front valence of the 128i adds distinctiveness and character to what was previously a by-the-numbers goatee. The eyebrows give the eyes a more athletic squint, and the taillights’ striations relieve some of their chunkiness.

If you haven’t already guessed, the 128i 6-speed, as stripped-down as I could option it with the exception of performance bits like 17″ wheels and a limited-slip diff, would be my 1-series flavor of choice. Indeed, if I had to buy a new BMW, it would be the one I’d opt for, being the lightest, most straightforward and “unencumbered” car they currently produce. Why not the more powerful 135i? Well, for starters, call me a purist, but I’m still having difficulty warming to the idea of a turbocharged BMW, as good as the N54 and N55 were and are. The predictability of a naturally-aspirated torque curve is hard to simulate. The biggest reason, though, is the weight difference—the 135i weighs close to 170 lbs more than the 128i, not an insubstantial figure for a small car, especially considering the 128i already weighs more than a car of its size should, at 3208 lbs.

I picked up a glossy brochure on my way out. I told my wife that it was difficult to resist the impulsive mental contortions I embark upon in order to justify the purchase, but there is absolutely no responsible way to reconcile even a used 128i into our family plan at the moment. Maybe I’ll snag one in 5-10 years, if I can bring myself to drive what still basically amounts to a computer on four wheels, with increasingly little for us shadetree mechanics to do in the way of repairs, one of the great joys/frustrations of owning a car. We’ll see.

Autoblog reported rumors yesterday that a next-generation Porsche 928 might be in the works in Stuttgart:

[I]t’s not surprising that rumors of a Porsche 928 revival have been spreading like wildfire across the dry plains of the internet over the last several years. The logical reasoning sees Porsche shortening its Panamera platform and ejecting the rear seat to make such a grand touring coupe, which would leave the manufacturer with a front-engine, rear-wheel-drive machine in the tradition of its old 928.

According to the Brits at Autocar, such a beast could be christened, rather imaginatively, 929 and be ready for the market as early as 2014, coinciding with the launch of the second-generation Panamera.

I would be very pleased if such a car saw the light of day. It would, as reported, fill a hole in Porsche’s model range, and would add interest to the big, RWD GT coupe segment. Granted, some would say that segment is oversaturated as-is, but it is a personal favorite, so I say the more the merrier. Such cars are often the best-looking offerings in a manufacturer’s lineup, and who out there wouldn’t like a little more beauty surrounded by Camrys and Accords on the commute home? Bring it on, Porsche.

On a related note, the report made me wax nostalgic for the old 928. It’s fascinated me for years, ever since I saw my first one in Europe in the late ’80s. Even as a kid, the styling made an impression on me, with its exotic, bumper-less contours and combination wedge/bean shape. It looked like a spaceship, like the alien craft on the ’80s Disney classic The Flight of the Navigator, and I’m happy to observe that its looks have hardly aged, if at all. To my eye, it still looks fresh, clean and striking even 30 years after its introduction. The pre-facelift 928, especially the rear, is my vantage point of choice. The taillights looked, and still look, like nothing else:

They inspire an expression which really could be said about most Porsche styling: So weird, but yet so right. I remember thinking the same thing about the 911 the first few times I saw it—it was undeniably odd-looking, but there was something weirdly pleasing about its bugeyes, upright windshield and tapering back. Like the 928, it’s offbeat, but it works.

The 928 wasn’t all show, either. Porsche equipped it with a specially-designed 4.5l (eventually increased to 5.4l) V8, SOHC at first, but quickly progressing to DOHC. The final output was of the 5.4l version was a substantial 345 hp, enough to move the big coupe with some alacrity.

I’ve heard the car can be a maintenance hog—the valvetrain of the big V8 as well as the rear-mounted transaxle being particularly troublesome—but I would still like to own an early 5-speed. As much as I like grease under my fingernails, the labor aspect of maintenance wouldn’t bother me, but the legendarily steep Porsche parts price would. I’ll probably have to relegate this one to the category of pipe dream, but I remain a fan.

In all fairness, I don’t know if I can blame this entirely on BMW.

It’s been rumored for years now, but it would appear that BMW is finally going to make the switch to front wheel drive. Mind you, they own Mini, and developed their cars, all of which are FWD, so some have argued that there already are FWD “BMWs” out there. To most enthusiasts, though, it’s more a matter of brand perception than cold, objective vehicle dynamics, so to us, it’s not actually a FWD BMW until the roundel is on the hood.

I’ve heard all the arguments. I’ve been told time and again that BMW buffs whined and moaned and complained when the much-beloved, modern E30 came out in the mid-’80s, saying BMW was going to pot. Then their storied M30 was replaced in the early ’90s with, of all things, a modern, all-aluminum, 32-valve V8 (the M60), and the purists were again up in arms, saying BMW had sold its soul by axing its big six. Then, in the mid-’00s, for the first time, they introduced a turbocharged gasoline engine (the N54) in a worldwide production car, and we all said they were hopelessly compromised as a brand. None of it was true. Even with the added layers of electronics introduced in the ’90s and ’00s, BMWs still remained peerless drivers’ cars.

Guess why? Mechanical balance. You can smooth out the power delivery of a turbo’d engine with proper tuning; the low-down torque of a good V8 is a proper substitute for that of their old M30; you can still maintain a connection between man and machine in spite of electronic gadgetry, but you can’t fake mechanical balance. There is simply no way to make a FWD car feel as balanced as a RWD car. No possible way. Among others, Honda and Lotus have made particularly valiant efforts in the past with their last-generation Prelude and ’90s Elan, respectively, but even they had dynamic limitations that could be felt by any driver.

It’s a fundamentally qualitative difference. I don’t care how good your FWD car is, or if it can run circles around my RWD clunker—it doesn’t feel the same to drive when all the weight is over the front axle, and the two front wheels are doing all the work. Period. And therein lies BMW’s problem, and why this sea change is different from all the previous upheavals.

Finally, in BMW’s defense, I realize it’s their brand. They have final say over its defining characteristics; they can do whatever they want with it. If they want to slap a BMW emblem on the hood of a Smart Fortwo, it will be a BMW (lest we forget, the Isetta was). I won’t say otherwise. And also, as alluded to at the beginning of the post, as with the regulatory-driven styling problems with the nose of their latest 6-series, it could be a situation they’re forced into, and are trying to make the best of. I know the latest EU fuel economy standards are pushing a lot of companies that wouldn’t otherwise contemplate small cars to do so (see: Aston Martin). With that, I wish them good luck. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go cry in my German beer. At least that’s still pure and uncompromised, right?

“They just don’t understand a single word we’re on about.”

—Jeremy Clarkson on the American focus groups assembled by NBC to preview an American version of the hit British car show, Top Gear.

The latest attempt to pitch a Top Gear-like show to an American audience, Adam Carolla’s The Car Show debuts this Wednesday on Speed TV.

When it finally arrived on History, I gave Top Gear US a fair shake; I really did. I wanted it to work, but maybe it was something about the strained and forced chemistry of the hosts, perhaps it was something as superficial as the lack of British accents giving their car geekery a hokey feel, or it could have the desperate attempt to ape absolutely everything about the British show—whatever the reason or reasons, although it had some good moments, overall, it just didn’t work for me. I stopped watching after the first half-dozen episodes.

And though I wish Adam Carolla the best in his new endeavor, I have a sinking feeling it’s going to be more of the same. The promo, in particular, has the same sort of “chopped and edited to improve the comic timing” feel the Top Gear US spots had. Also, they’re pitching the “four guys yakking about cars” theme from the get-go. I wrote this about Top Gear US soon after it came out, and the same could apply to The Car Show:

Thing is (and I’m not terribly familiar with the first few seasons of the current format of Top Gear UK), it seems like the British show didn’t start out with an emphasis on inter-host chemistry and crazy challenges. I mean, they had them, but the first “great race” (DB9 vs. Train, IIRC) didn’t happen until what, Season 4? Up until that point it was pretty much a factual, well-made show that reviewed interesting cars. They wouldn’t have been able to do something like the Vietnam Special until much, much later.

Top Gear US is making a mistake if it thinks it can “force” the chemistry from the very beginning. Much better to front-load the show with entertaining reviews of cool cars and let the inside jokes develop at their own pace.

It’s kind of a catch-22, though, since it’s an open question whether a “factual car show” would hold the attention of American audiences long enough to allow the rapport between the hosts to develop. I kind of doubt it.

With this latest attempt at a American car show, I guess we’ll see. Until then, I remain loyal to Clarkson, Hammond and May.

Is Saab back for good?

After GM decided to divest themselves of the company in late 2009 as part of their restructuring program, the Swedish automaker was rescued in early 2010 by the Dutch firm Spyker in a truly 11th-hour deal. Despite Spyker’s lack of financial muscle compared to GM, I had high hopes Saab would regain more solid footing under their auspices. Especially with the long overdue release of the second-generation 9-5 (by all accounts a very good car, if not the automotive equivalent of a killer app), I started wondering whether a Jaguar-in-the-’90s-style renaissance was in the works.

Unfortunately, Saab’s problems today are different than Jaguar’s were back then. The British company’s main failings were on the manufacturing efficiency and quality control fronts, two areas that their then-new owners, Ford, were amply able to help them address. Jaguar never suffered from a lack of distinctiveness, and their basic design and engineering had always been on par with the standard-bearers in their cars’ categories. But those are precisely the two main issues facing Saab today. Saab needs make a car that can hang with a BMW 3-series, Lexus IS or Infiniti G, and they need to distinguish themselves from their competition (something GM’s platform sharing antics did not help). Accomplishing those two things would help the brand win converts beyond just the diehard loyalists, or those who define themselves first and foremost as nonconformists.

All that said, in spite of the competence of the new 9-5 (pictured above and at top) Spyker couldn’t do much with the Swedish company, and put Saab up for sale. And yet again, on the verge of liquidating their assets and shuttering their factories, a pair of buyers emerged, in this case the Chinese firms Youngman and Pang Da.

Here’s hoping they pull through. If they do eventually go under, the automotive landscape will be a bit less unique for the disappearance of the quirky, and in many ways pioneering, automaker.

Saab has been at the vanguard of a number of automotive innovations; just to name a few: wastegate-controlled turbocharging, coil-on-plug ignition, and my personal favorite: the variable compression engine. Unfortunately, with that last advance, they lacked the capital to fully develop what could have been a game-changer, a real breakthrough that would have given them technical distinctiveness and leadership, in addition to all the little peripheral idiosyncrasies they maintain.

On another personal note, as much of a nonconformist as I like to think I am, I’ve never been a huge fan of the brand, mainly because their entire model range is front-wheel-drive. There’s just no way to achieve a well-balanced, classically fun-to-drive car with that mechanical configuration. It’s unfortunate, really, since Saabs are generally very handsome, and manual transmissions are offered on most cars in their lineup—two big positives.

If nothing else, this post allows me to coin what I will call Spannerhead’s 1st Law of Automotive Blogging: “You can’t call yourself a true automotive blogger until you’ve written a post about a Swedish automaker.”

So at least I’ve arrived, even if Saab hasn’t quite yet.