Quick-Lane Foreigners: 1991 Sports activities Sedan Comparability

From the July 1991 issue of Car and Driver.

The late Andy Warhol predicted that everyone in the future would be famous for fifteen minutes, but time is running out and you still haven’t made the cover of People or even been a finalist on “America’s Most Stultifying Home Videos.”

Say, would you pay 44 cents a minute to announce to the world who and what you are? The phone company charges half that, but sadly your message would only reach one listener at a time—not very cost-effective.

You could try the television net­works, like Mr. Iacocca does, but for 60 seconds of air time they want the equiv­alent of what Roger Clemens gets for pitching an entire, exhausting nine in­nings of baseball against such formidables as the Seattle Mariners­: $200,000 or so.

Maybe you ought to consider an automobile, one that mirrors your style and image, not to mention your haircut, your cool élan. So our assembled players cost about $35,000 each. So what? If you drive one 15,000 miles a year for the next four years, averaging 45 miles an hour, it’ll cost you a measly 44 cents per minute to broadcast your tastes and means to everyone on the road, at the car wash, and in front of the most overpriced restaurant in town.

Of course, this self-mirroring business, like fashionable dressing, can be risky—the message received is not always exactly the one the sender intend­ed. Is the owner of that smart little Kyongsang Pudhopper EX a brilliant consumer, or just an expedient skinflint? Does that grand Wellington-Ross HMS 6.5 carry a person of refined tastes, or of unchecked vanity?

Consider the seven sedans we’ve col­lected here. They’re all relatively rare head-turners. Fleet of foot (they zip to 60 mph in less than ten seconds), all are ca­pable of more than 120 mph, which of course would be wrong, but who wants to broadcast the message, “Hey, I may not be fast, but I sure am low!”

The names of our fast-lane foreigners fairly lilt off the tongue: Acura Legend LS, Alfa Romeo 164L, Audi 90 Quattro, BMW 525i, Mercedes-Benz 190E 2.6, Saab 9000CD Turbo, and Volvo 940 Turbo. Already it sounds like you’ve mastered a foreign language.

We tested the cars in the form most commonly chosen by their buyers. That means automatic transmissions, which Americans overwhelmingly prefer to manual gearboxes, even in cars like these. Among our contestants, only the Audi was fitted with a five-speed because, in fact, all 90 Quattros are. (An automatic is not available on any all-wheel-drive Audi except the flagship V-8.)

We gathered our field in sunny South­ern California and spent a work week on the road—testing, measuring, pondering . . . and hunting for routes not closed by snow or mudslides. The Monsoons of March ended the drought (for a month anyway), but they didn’t dampen our enthusiasm to find out how these expressive automobiles stack up. Even cars intended to make a statement have to work as cars, and for the money these charge, they should work well indeed.

After some hard driving and harder judging, we had our answers. And rankings that reflect our opinions. We discovered that all these cars are special, and that all are acceptable. But some are more acceptably special than others.

7th Place: Volvo 940 Turbo

From the logbook, a diary of driver impres­sions: “Doesn’t feel very spirited.” “It’s not a chore to drive, but it offers no real pleasure.”

Few cars have the cult appeal that Volvos do. A loyal clientele has respond­ed for decades to this Swedish image of safety, reliability, durability, and sensibil­ity. Yet even the newest Volvo felt dated and overmatched in toe-to-toe compari­son with our half-dozen alternatives.

The 940 series is the company’s new family of sedans and wagons, and the Turbo is its lustiest example. But our 940 failed to win many hearts, even though it had the lowest sticker price of the group, $29,813.

HIGHS: Great seating comfort and visibility, quality appointments.
LOWS: Thrashy engine, road manners of a much heavier car, dated feel.
VERDICT: Loyalists won’t need to test-drive anything else.

Oh, there was plenty to like about this Swede, starting with fine brakes and sheetmetal contours that are softer and rounder than its 740 parent’s. And the big, long-cushioned seats drew raves: supportive, comfy, upright, and mount­ed high in the car. (One driver tagged this “the king of Sweden driving posi­tion.”) The interior design retains the rectangles and straight lines of the 740, but everything is well executed in quality materials, creating a businesslike cockpit.

The windows are tall, like looking out of a control tower. The new Volvo is a com­fortable, secure place to sit, for hours on end.

But driving the 940 Turbo for those same hours isn’t a particularly rewarding experience. Though steering response is excellent and the suspension keeps the tires in good contact with the road, the body moves around quite a bit, creating a feeling of ponderousness. From the driv­er’s seat, you’d never guess the 940 tied for second-lightest curb weight.

Also disappointing was the racket from the Volvo’s four-cylinder engine. The 162-hp turbocharged 2.3 turned in acceleration times that put it in mid-pack, but it also raised a decidedly agricultural din. It finished last in both the top-speed and fuel-economy derbies.

So the Volvo pigeonholes itself in the cultist people-hauler slot: it works okay in its way, but that’s not a way that stands up to hard-nosed comparison shopping, in our view. Long may the Volvo faithful disagree with us.

From the logbook: “It seems tall, old, sedate, stodgy.” And: “Stiff and jiggly on uneven blacktop; the wheels stay planted, but the driver is stirred in quite the wrong way.”

1991 Volvo 940 Turbo
162-hp turbocharged inline-4, 4-speed automatic, 3180 lb
Base/as-tested price: $29,675/$29,813
C/D TEST RESULTS
60 mph: 8.4 sec
1/4 mile: 16.6 sec @ 82 mph
100 mph: 30.6 sec
Braking, 70­–0 mph: 165 ft
Roadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.76 g
C/D observed fuel economy: 18 mpg

5th Place (tie): Mercedes-Benz 190E 2.6

From the logbook: “A lazy-feeling car. It’s re­luctant to get up and go, and when it finally does, it still doesn’t deliver much.” “Quality is excellent.”

The little 190 Mercedes may have been in over its head here. We might have asked a 300 to carry the Benz ban­ner against a 5-series BMW and the big Saab, but the window sticker doesn’t lie: look for a Mercedes around $35,000 and this is what you find. In fact, the 190E, at $37,392, was the most expensive car in this group. Also the lightest, the most cramped, and the least powerful. Does that mean it’s simply overpriced? You might make a case.

Still, the 190E 2.6 is beautifully put to­gether and feels solid as concrete. From the high-gloss wood trim to the firm seats and slightly scattered minor switch­es, it provides a true Mercedes-Benz experience.

HIGHS: Top-quality construction and materials, great bad-road ride.
LOWS: Lazy engine, outmoded transmission, high price.
VERDICT: A real Benz, but not a great Benz.

Would that it worked better in the bar­gain. We have no complaint with the ride, and the car’s handling poise seems to improve as the road surface deterio­rates. But in most other measures of dy­namic ability, the six-cylinder 190 just sort of lies there. Though smooth-running, the 158-hp engine generates only modest thrust. Exceptionally long throt­tle-pedal travel doesn’t help. Nor does an automatic transmission that lacks the smooth shifting, ready kickdown, and general refinement of today’s typical GM Hydra-matic. An over-exuberant trac­tion-control system cuts engine power in middling-hard cornering: it made tight mountain roads less fun and our skidpad test impossible to conduct properly.

We expected the 190 to trail the field in rear-seat spaciousness but were sur­prised to find even the driver’s feet and knees competing with pads and trim pan­els for a place to be. Especially annoying was the under-dash cover that snagged the toe of the right shoe as the driver pivoted between throttle and brake.

Somebody called this the Cadillac Cimarron of Mercedes’s line. That’s per­haps too harsh, but the 190 does risk coming off as an imitation of a prestige car. Or at least as a very old prestige car (the body dates from ’84, the engine from ’87). It’s a real Mercedes, though, no question. It just happens to be priced like bigger and better cars.

From the logbook: “Too physical in all the wrong ways.” “Lovely ride, but seems to lumber along.” “This car feels virtually unchanged from the old 2.3.”

1991 Mercedes-Benz 190E 2.6
158-hp inline-6, 4-speed automatic, 3100 lb
Base/as-tested price: $34,070/$37,392
C/D TEST RESULTS
60 mph: 9.4 sec
1/4 mile: 17.4 sec @ 82 mph
100 mph: 31.0 sec
Braking, 70­–0 mph: 177 ft
Roadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.69 g
C/D observed fuel economy: 21 mpg

5th Place (tie): Alfa Romeo 164L

From the logbook: “I find myself thinking its failings are okay because this is, after all, an Alfa.”

Though profoundly different in heri­tage, execution, and character from the Mercedes 190 (and more than $3200 cheaper), the Alfa 164 toted up and boiled down to a dead-heat finish with the baby Benz in our overall judgment. It also, despite some endearing traits, couldn’t rise above the competition arrayed against it.

In our first test of a 164 (a top-of-the-­line S model in June 1990), we found the traditional Alfa quirkiness fairly well un­der control and the car’s performance brilliant. For this test, pricing and the lack of an automatic-transmission option on the S forced us into an L-model, and along the way the fire went out. The three-liter V-6 loses 17 hp between S and L trim, and that combined with the softer power delivery of an autobox dragged 0-to-60 times from 6.9 seconds to 9.8—a whole personality of difference.

HIGHS: Unique styling treatment, lusty engine sounds.
LOWS: The engine only sounds lusty, and steering weight feels odd.
VERDICT: Nice, but nowhere near the faster, sportier S-model.

Everyone liked the unconventional styling of the 164’s body. The combina­tion of a growly engine and high-feed­back suspension gives the car a gritty, mechanical feel that holds promise for the fan of the driving art. Turn up the in­tensity on the road, however, and that promise fades. The steering’s self-cen­tering forces are curiously strong and ar­tificial-feeling, giving little clue to how hard the front tires are working. And our slalom test turned up a darty instability in the rear suspension.

The boldly designed interior of the Alfa, especially all the slatted panels and square buttons of the dashboard, look original. And it works well enough, after a suitable orientation period. The driv­ing position is arms-out but not arms-­stretched-out, and the seats are decently comfortable.

So the 164 is an undeniably interesting car, one that is unusual but not so weird as to make it unlivable—as some Alfas have been. We wanted very much to like our 164 L. But in too many small ways, it let us down—something that didn’t hap­pen with other cars that its $34,142 price forced it to compete against.

From the logbook: “Its sparkling-good looks are not aided and abetted by sparkling­-good performance.”

1991 Alfa Romeo 164L
183-hp V-6, 4-speed automatic, 3440 lb
Base/as-tested price: $29,015/$34,142
C/D TEST RESULTS
60 mph: 9.8 sec
1/4 mile: 17.5 sec @ 83 mph
100 mph: 27.1 sec
Braking, 70­–0 mph: 176 ft
Roadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.76 g
C/D observed fuel economy: 20 mpg

4th Place: BMW 525i

From the logbook: “Good driver! Lacks power.” “Everything works so very well and with great confidence. Perhaps the best balanced car in the test.”

This was our first time behind BMW’s new multivalve “small” six, and the re­sults tell all: the 525i finished in fourth place, but it nearly tied with the third­-place Audi and slotted in respectably close to the winner.

This newly powered price-leader 5-series gives an enthusiast driver plenty to love, including balance and poise on twisty roads, superb seats and driving en­vironment, probably the best styling of this group, and faultless build quality. Some testers noted the numb spot in the steering around dead-ahead, but in every other way, the 525i actively approaches driving as a sport, a pastime, and a pas­sion. Your thighs, seat, torso, and shoul­ders are positively located by the deep buckets, your thumbs find perfectly formed rests on the wheel’s upper spokes, your eyes and right hand have the dash-center instruments and controls canted toward them.

HIGHS: Beautifully made, beautifully shaped, beautiful to drive.
LOWS: Engine needs revs—and a manual gearbox—to really work.
VERDICT: A true driver’s car: solid, balanced, and integrated.

Under way, the BMW feels willing and spirited, with velvety control response, ready maneuverability, and good corner­ing grip. But it isn’t particularly fast. This 189-hp 24-valve 2.5 represents a wel­come improvement over the 168-hp twelve-valver (C/D, July 1989), but it needs revs to make power. And that means the driver has to keep it spinning. More than any other autoshifter here, the BMW cried out for a manual box. And in one respect—top speed—what capability the engine does have is hobbled. The 525i is electronically limited to 128 mph, ostensibly because of tire ratings but also probably for marketing reasons: it mustn’t crowd the performance of the more expensive 535i.

Cloth upholstery that looked a little downmarket was the only visible sugges­tion that we were in an “economy” BMW. That concept is relative. At $36,683, our 525i surpassed all as-tested prices here save the 190E’s. Yet no en­thusiast will question the BMW’s value.

From the logbook: “Very sweet. No rocket but not bad, and the chassis offers wonderful give and take.” “Very solid, very secure, delightfully responsive.”