Beep!…Beep!…Beep! Click. Ugh.
You turn off your alarm clock and grope around on the bedside table for your glasses and phone. Getting up this early seemed like a good idea yesterday, but your kids woke you up twice overnight, and now you are wishing for more sleep.
You roll out of bed and groggily start your morning routine. Shower. Dress. Lumber downstairs to make breakfast for the family. (Don’t forget to put on the kettle for your spouse.)
Soon, the others are rising. You coax your one- and five-year-old kids into their clothes and get them started on eggs and toast. While they are munching, you hustle to pack the day’s necessities. After the bags are stacked in a jumble by the front door, you join the family at the table and gobble down some breakfast.
Okay! It’s time to go!
As your spouse wipes egg yoke off the littles’ lips (and hands, and foreheads, and…), you scan the keys on the foyer table. After considering your plans, you reach for a key.
(Choose an activity and car:)
| School Run/Food Shop | Beach Day | 1k Mile Road Trip | Canyon Run | Track Day | |
| Model 3 | Go | Go | Go | Go | Go |
| M3 Sedan | Go | Go | Go | Go | Go |
| CTS-V Wagon | Go | Go | Go | Go | Go |
| AMG GT S | Go | Go | Go | Go | Go |
Tesla Model 3 – School Run/Food Shop
Your semi-presentable kids are now at your side. You help them into their shoes and jackets and herd them out to the Tesla Model 3. The Model 3 has become your default choice for local trips—like this morning’s school run—because it’s so damn easy as an urban runabout.
Easy? The Model 3 is parked closest to the house. (A privilege it enjoys thanks to its short charging cable.)
You grab the icy metal door handle, and the car senses your phone in your pocket, unlocks and powers up. Your five-year-old climbs into her booster seat unassisted. You heft your toddler into her seat.
The Model 3 is a compact sedan, but it’s been working well for your family of four, thanks in part to your purchase of the smallest rear-facing infant seat on the market: Without the Cybex Aton 2, the front legroom would be too compromised.
Because no one plugged in the Model 3 last night, there’s no wire to wrangle this morning. You plop into the driver’s seat and bump the stiff column shifter up for R. There are no gears in the Model 3—not even reverse—so when you gently squeeze the accelerator, the computer simply runs the electric motor backward. The Model 3 glides smoothly into the street. You bump the shifter down to engage D, computer bits flip, the motor runs forward, and you’re on your way!
The Model 3 moves with ninja-like reflexes. It can silently slither at a snail’s pace in stop-and-go traffic and bolt like a jackrabbit through busy boulevards. The electric motor’s instant low-rpm torque makes it a perfect city car. (And fantastic for hill starts on steep slopes.) Additionally, the electric propulsion is quieter, smoother, more immediate and more predictable than any ICE car you’ve owned.
One unexpected consequence of owning the Model 3 is that you’ve been listening to more music than ever before. The Model 3 Mid Range’s premium stereo has the best clarity and definition between the vocals and instruments of any car audio system you’ve ever owned. With no engine noise to sully the sound, you take newfound pleasure in playing the latest hits.
Soon, you’re approaching the elementary school. In the school zone, the Model 3’s thick A-pillars are a liability. You take extra care as you turn into the drop-off lane, craning your neck left and right as you check for children. (The Model 3’s A-pillars spoil its otherwise exceptional forward visibility.)
The drop-off aid approaches your car but is stymied by the flush door handle; she doesn’t know that pushing the fat end pops out the handle. So you open the door from the inside, and your eldest slips out.
With the big kid at school, you and Baby Waah-Waah continue to the grocery store. There are three supermarkets between you and home, but you go to Trader Joe’s because there’s a Tesla Supercharger in its parking lot.
Charging is a cinch: Grab the hefty cable, press the button on the handle (which wirelessly tells your Tesla to open its charging port), and plug that baby in. There’s no futzing with credit cards or pay apps; Tesla magically knows who you are and bills your account without any additional inputs.
You scramble around TJ’s, filling your cart. In go bananas, salad greens, pizza makings, frozen Indian food and more. (You indulge and add your favorite adult beverage too.) When all is said and done, and when the bags and baby are loaded into the car, 25 minutes have elapsed. In that time, the Tesla charged from 25% to 70%, which is all you’ll need for the week.
Easy!
No wonder the Model 3 is your go-to runabout.
BMW M3 – School Run/Food Shop
The M3’s key has a woven carbon-fiber sleeve. You grab it and slip it into your pocket. You haven’t driven the M3 in almost a week, so it will be good to get its fluids moving and charge its battery.
Finally, the kids are done eating, and you help them into their jackets and shoes. Then, you march your little parade out the door to the waiting M3.
Your preschooler climbs into her car seat. As always, it’s a struggle to buckle her into her rear-facing throne. (Why is it so hard to tighten these belts!) At least you found a seat that fits on the M3’s backbench. Most of the options at Target were too big, but the Chicco Nextfit did the trick, so now your spouse can sit ahead of the baby.
You press the engine start button, and the M3’s V8 erupts with a growl. The M3 is loudest for its first few minutes awake, while its cold start mode warms the catalytic converters and fluids. You’re a little surprised that your closest neighbors haven’t complained yet…
You slot the gear selector into D, brush the gas, and DCT stutters slightly as you pull onto the road. The M3 trundles down the hill, rattling slightly as it rides firmly over the bumps; its chassis is 10-years old, but it is still flex-free. The cold brakes squeak as you draw up to the first stop sign. You still have the trackpads in the calipers, ready for impromptu track days.
Beneath your bum, the red seat leather begins to warm. These well-padded and supremely sculpted front seats are the most comfortable in your fleet. That’s the thing about the M3; age hasn’t diminished its comfort, quality or luxury.
The V8 engine sings quietly as it works. Its tenor voice box practices octaves as you step through the gears. When you lift off the throttle to coast, the engine braking is as strong as your Tesla’s regenerative braking.
In the daycare dropoff line, the M3 only makes a stir for those who know. To everyone else, it’s just an aging BMW with flashy wheels.
With the kids at school, it’s off to the supermarket. You dash around the store, finding the ingredients you need for dinner.
Your shop fills a single bag. Instead of depositing the goods in the M3’s generous trunk, you opt to buckle the bag into a child car seat. The trunk doesn’t have any bag hooks or cargo dividers, and you don’t want the groceries to scatter willy nilly.
While the M3 isn’t tickled purple with running errands, it still makes a fine roundabout. Comfortable and special, you always feel pleased when you’re behind the Bimmer’s wheel.
Cadillac CTS-V Wagon – School Run/Food Shop
It’s a two-kid morning, and the Tesla is occupied, so you grab the Cadillac’s plastic fob and head out into the crisp morning air. Your kindergartner climbs into her car seat as you buckle in the infant. The CTS-V is a rocking wagon that can baby. (Though you’re happy to have found the compact Cybex Aton 2, so the front passenger seat is still comfortable for an adult.)
The starter motor labors for a long second before the sleeping 6.2L V8 grumbles to life. (There’s lots of mass to put into motion.) You punch the seat heaters, and soon your backside starts to thaw. The cold transmission is a little resistant to engage first, but you find the gate, slip the clutch, and ease into motion.
Driven calmly, the CTS-V is a little slow-moving and dim-witted, traits which the frosty air accentuate. The magnetic ride shocks make strange chuffing noises as you roll down your hill towards town. They are as creaky as a septuagenarian until they’ve warmed up and stretched out. (Maybe you’ll splurge on an automotive joint replacement soon, but it’s hard to justify the expense when the car still rides so well!)
The CTS-V is your DIY analog steed. The 6-speed manual transmission is stout if a little sloppy in the gates, and the clutch is easy to use. (Though it felt heavy when you bought the car.) The steering is full of that twitter and tug that modern cars have lost. You love the constant conversation with the road and the challenge of properly timed shifts.
The only computer interference in the CTS-V is the rarely activated skip-shift. Every few days, GM’s fuel economy programming will sense an unrushed low-rpm one-two shift and try to force you into fourth. You’ve learned to sense the interference and detour to third. The skip-shift is so infrequently triggered that it doesn’t even bother you anymore.
You arrive at school in your 556 hp family hauler, and hardly anyone blinks an eye. While angular, the V wagon is unassuming to the untrained eye. It’s nice to walk quietly and carry a big stick.
With the big kid in class, you and the baby pipsqueak head to the grocery store. Seated in the shopping cart, your baby babbles and tries to snatch food off the shelves as you work your way through the shopping list.
You have three bags full when you return to the CTS-V. The powered rear hatch opens wide, and you reconfigure the built-in cargo partition so the groceries will be secure on the way home. Other companies have more clever cargo solutions, but the CTS-V handles small, medium, or large loads well.
You hardly used a fifth of the CTS-V’s power this morning: It is complete overkill as an in-town runaround. But the Cadillac is also chicken soup for the petrol-brained enthusiast. So you drink it in slowly, enjoy its simple, nourishing flavors, and think about the timeless appeal of its V8, manual-transmission, cushy-suspension recipe.
Mercedes-AMG GT S – School Run/Food Shop
Today is a rare morning where your spouse is at home taking care of the baby: You’re going to take advantage of it! You stride out the front door with your kindergartner at your side and your AMG GT S’s keys in hand.
Chasing the kid around the corner, you spot your GT S a half-block away. Street parking in your neighborhood is vicious—you’ve had fenders damaged four times in three years—so you use this distant but well-protected parking spot for your cherished GT S. (If only you had a garage!)
When your spouse gave you the green light to get a sports car, you had shopped Porsche 911s first. Your logic was that they have back seats, so they must be kid-friendly. Well, after six months with the two-seat GT S, your thinking has changed. With no back seat in the GT S (and with smart airbag deactivation and a LATCH tether), kiddo can legally ride upfront. That’s a lot easier than shoehorning her into the rear of a 911.
You open the passenger door, she climbs in unassisted, and the gapping portal lets you painlessly tighten her harness straps. (You wonder if the neighbors are looking at you strangely, but you don’t see any staring eyes.)
At the press of a glass button, the GT S starts with a subdued roar. Mercedes put the gearshift unfortunately rearward; you do a T-Rex impression as you grab the shifter and select drive. Off you go!
The GT S is a Mercedes, but it rides firmly over your neighborhood’s rippled pavement. Clattering and squeaking emit from the hood and trunk lids, and little rattles emanate from the seats and trim. If you bought this car new, you’d be pissed. But since it’s 5 years old and you got it at half price, you accept the cacophony.
Three months ago, when you introduced your kid to the GT S’s front seat, you stipulated that there would be no kicking of the leather dash. You’re happy to see the little feet are still, and your dash is unscuffed.
Crossing town, the big bi-turbo V8 works in hushed modesty. This is the GT S in Comfort mode. The dual-clutch transmission is a little clunky from a standstill, but the car is still an automatic with light steering, so it’s easy to use in town.
You arrive at school feeling equally cool and self-conscious in the brash AMG. You stand out from the minivans and SUVs, but that’s half the point, right?
With the kiddo safely in her classroom, it’s time for a quick shop. Upon arriving at the supermarket, you park in a far-flung region of the lot to avoid door dings.
You fill your cart with weekly dinner ingredients and are unsurprised when the bill crests $100; it’s a mere three bags for your Benjamin. The trio fits easily into the GT S’s wide trunk, with room to spare for another bag or two.
So long as you’re not buying bulk from Costco, the GT S can be a grocery getter. If you’re just a parent of one, it can be a school bus, too. It’s not the best car for either job, but at least you’ll have fun getting there.
Tesla Model 3 – Beach Day
Your foyer is full of sand toys, blankets, backpacks, a cooler, shade tent and sun umbrella. It’s beach day! And you’re taking the Tesla because it’s comfortable, commodious…and already filthy. (Thank you, kids…and birds.)
It takes two trips to move all the gear to the car, but everything packs easily into the Tesla’s trunk. The blankets and towels are stuffed underfloor. (The Model 3 has a cavernous well under the carpet.) The three-foot-tall umbrella fits widthwise across the trunk’s mouth, and the cooler, tent and backpacks fill the generous hold with room to spare.
Strap the kids into their seats, and it’s time to go!
The beach is across the bay and over the mountain, an hour’s drive away. On the way, the internet-connected infotainment system streams story podcasts to occupy the kids.
You appreciate the Model 3’s excellent highway manners. It’s easy to relax as the cruise control paces traffic and follows curves. But because you don’t entirely trust Tesla Autopilot, you revert to manual control for merges and lane changes. When you spot an opportunity in an adjacent lane, you prod the accelerator and the Model 3 leaps into the gap.
There’s a suspension bridge en route. Through the panorama glass ceiling, your kids watch the 325-foot towers spearing towards the sky. Later, they glance up at the towering redwoods on the mountain’s slopes.
At the beach, you stash your valuables in the frunk (front trunk). There’s no physical release for the front—it only opens via the infotainment touch screen or Tesla app—so you trust your wallet will be safe even if a thief smashes a window.
The sky is blue, and the sun is hot, perfect conditions for splashing in the frigid Pacific. Your kids chase waves, build castles and dig for sand crabs. It’s fun for all!
Before packing for home, you check the Model 3 from the Tesla app. The black-on-black, glass-roofed Model 3 is a veritable oven, and its cabin temps have climbed to searing 130°F. No problem! You switch on the A/C from your phone, knowing that the cabin will be cool by the time you’ve trudged back to the car. (But watch out for the gleaming metal door handles: they’ll scald your fingertips!)
Your family decides to get takeout for dinner. You view the menu on the in-car web browser and then phone in the order. “Navigate to China Village,” you command the car. Its natural language processing system displays a list of likely destinations. Your favorite restaurant is a top result; you tap it and hit the road.
An hour later, you are back home. The Model 3—which now smells like garlic broccoli and basil eggplant—still has a 50% charge remaining. Plugging in overnight will brim it by morning.
As always, the Tesla is a superb day trip vehicle.
BMW M3 – Beach Day
You drop the M3’s key into your pocket and grab the bags of beach toys, towels, and snacks. The Tommy Bahama beach umbrella slings over your shoulder, and you awkwardly struggle out to the M3.
You load the long beach umbrella into the M3 first, and the trunk easily swallows the rest of the equipment. When your spouse arrives with a small cooler and blankets, and they are thrown in the trunk too.
Once the kids are in their seats and a story playing over the Bluetooth streaming audio (the M3’s only modern convenience), you head for the coast. The car feels eager to stretch its legs on the highway; it practically begs you to ride its building wave of power to the 8,300 rpm crest. But you don’t, because you’re a responsible parent. Instead, you settle into the plush seat, lightly grip the girthy steering wheel, and head across the bay.
If you could fly, it would be an easy six miles from the highway exit to the beach. But the M3 lacks wings. Instead, you face 14 miles of switchbacks and swerves strung high over the Pacific’s sapphire swells.
The cliffside route would be sublime if you had it all to yourself, but today it’s clogged with tourists and local day-trippers. No matter, you intend on driving slowly because your little barfy kids wouldn’t weather a high-G workout. So you straighten the curves the best you can, and pull over at every opportunity to let the train of cars behind you pass.
Your discipline is rewarded: you arrive at the beach without incident! The morning fog quickly burns off, and you enjoy a long day of splashing and sandcastles.
When the seaside escapade is over, you crank up the BMW’s A/C (it’s not as powerful as the Cadillac’s or Tesla’s) and repeat your careful transit. The M3 can be civilized when it needs to be!
Cadillac CTS-V Wagon – Beach Day
You grab the keys to the Cadillac with a hint of hesitation. You are loath to take the CTS-V to the beach because its perforated microfiber seats gobble up sand, which you’re not sure your vacuum will ever free.
But the V is the ultimate dad car, so you get over your inclination to treat this 1-of-514 manual wagon as precious and load it with the cooler, towels, mini sun tent, and sand toys. (The trunk could easily hold more, but you’ve got everything you need.)
You put the kids in their car seats and get underway. It’s a warm day, but the air conditioning is strong; GM always does great air conditioning.
The magnetic-ride suspension delivers class-leading comfort on the short highway drive and country roads to the seaside. Your kids are puke-prone, so you keep it calm. When you are slow and lazy, so is the V. The engine lugs along at 2k rpm, the supercharger idles, and the V has as much scat and bite as a 16-year-old golden retriever. Heck, even the shifter feels clunky from gate to gate.
Still, you’re awash in driving information. There’s the ever undulating steering, the quiet rumble from the chassis-shaking 6.2L V8, and the humming whir of the Michelins. Oodles of analog feedback, that is why you bought a second-generation CTS-V.
The sand, surf and sun are fun. But, by the end of the day, everyone is worn out and hungry. You use the Cadillac’s peculiarly powerful key fob to open the trunk from the far side of the parking lot. The hot air vents out of the car as you drag the cooler and bags across the scorching pavement.
Once the gear is loaded into the car, you use your cell to look up the menu of your favorite restaurant. (The CTS-V’s navigation system looks old enough to have been used by Zelda on his quests. While it has a points-of-interest database, it’s no help with current dining recommendations, and it’s rarely worth using for nav, too.) So you use your phone to call in an order and guide you to the restaurant.
As you work the clutch and shifter and get underway, you have a moment of (sunburnt) weakness. If only you’d taken the Tesla, the drive home would be mindlessly easy.
No! Scratch that.
The Model 3 is a charming tech appliance, but CTS-V embodies the driving pleasures you love. It’s worth the extra effort—and vacuuming—to keep it on the move.
Mercedes-AMG GT S – Beach Day
You look longingly at the keys to the AMG GT S.
Before you had kids, this would have been a fantastic car for a beach run! There’s room for towels and maybe even a short beach umbrella in the trunk. Of course, the cooler wouldn’t fit, but you could buy lunch at a cute little cafe by the water.
And it would be so fun to work the steering and flex the V8 on curvy Highway 1.
Dreamy…
Back to reality! There are four people in your family. The GT S will not ferry you all to the sand.
Go back and pick a more practical car.
Tesla Model 3 – 1,000 Mile Road Trip
You’re embarking on an exceptional trip for your family. After 18 months cooped up at home on COVID-19 lockdown—and 12 months adjusting to life with a new baby—you’re breaking loose and taking the family on a road trip. Destination? An oceanside Airbnb in San Diego. The beaches are calling, and your SoCal friends are now vaccinated.
You pour over the pile of luggage that is staged at your front door. There are a pair of suitcases packed with clothing and toiletries. The baby’s diaper bag, stroller, and portable crib sit beside two boxes of kitchen essentials for the rental house. (Yes, the box of booze is a “kitchen essential!”) There are sand toys, towels and day packs. Is this all going to fit?
Your biggest cars are your Tesla Model 3 sedan and Cadillac CTS-V wagon. Which one holds more luggage is a toss-up. The Model 3 has a generous trunk with a large underfloor compartment and a frunk, too. The CTS-V’s cargo hold is reasonably wide and deep and could be packed to the ceiling. But you want to share the driving duties (your spouse doesn’t drive stick), so you’re determined to make the Tesla work.
After 30 minutes of packing, then unloading and repacking, you manage to fit everything into the Model 3. Everything except for the baby stroller that is. Oh well! You’ll use the front pack carrier instead.
Soon you’re driving southbound on the highway, cruising along with the 75 mph traffic. This is where Tesla’s Autopilot is at its best. The smart cruise control follows the road’s gentle curves while pacing the cars ahead. You stare out the windscreen while your hand hangs on the wheel, letting the Model 3 know that you’re still “driving” (if more relaxed).
The Tesla’s cushy seats could keep you comfortable for four or five hours, but on a quick charging strategy (stop at 10% charge to fill to 80%), your Model 3 Mid Range only makes it two hours (125 to 150 miles) between stops.
This forces three 40-minute layovers en route to San Diego. The first coincides with lunch, so the 40 minutes don’t feel wasted. The second comes sooner than you’d like, but the kids take bio breaks and run off pent-up energy. (Even though they plead to watch videos and play games on the Tesla’s 15-inch screen instead.) And the third and final stop becomes your family’s (early) dinner, a tasty bite before night falls.
Yes, over 500 miles, the Model 3 Mid Range spent almost 2 hours tethered to the grid. If you’d taken the CTS-V (and eaten on the road), you might have saved an hour overall.
Autopilot or not, it’s a long trip. You’re road-weary as you arrive in San Diego, ready to park the Model 3 and tuck into bed. That’s fine; you’ve earned a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow you’ll have gold-flecked Coronado Beach to explore with friends. Life will be good!
BMW M3 – 1,000 Mile Road Trip
As your fingers wrap around the M3’s fob, you have a moment of doubt. Of your three sedans/wagons, the M3 has the least luggage capacity. Maybe you should take the Tesla? Its rear underfloor storage and frunk would swallow the backpacks and swim wings. But it’s Labor Day weekend, and the Tesla Superchargers can build lines on the holidays. The CTS-V wagon would also make packing easier, but your spouse doesn’t drive stick, and you want to share the driving. The M3 it is, then.
You head to the M3’s rear bumper and start Tetris-ing. In go the large suitcase and travel stroller, with the small suitcase jammed on top. Pool noodles and swim wings tuck in around the edges. The portable crib runs widthwise across the mouth of the trunk, with backpacks crammed around it. You get all of the essentials in, but only just. This was much easier when you just had one kid and could fold down half of the rear seat for more space!
Into the back seats go your lovable spawn, plus a bag of snacks and a soft cooler with refreshments. Your spouse is jammed into the front passenger seat, with her knees just two inches from the dash. (She’ll have the unenviable task of pretzel twisting every time the kids demand attention.) Finally, you’re ready to go, and the M3 is so loaded with luggage that it looks like you’ve fitted lowering springs to the rear axle.
You hit the highway. Within an hour, the baby is asleep, and your eldest is distracted by movies. In this moment of relative calm, you enjoy the ‘bahn burning M3.
Between the blockades of slow-moving trucks, you lay into the throttle, letting the V8 breathe (and sing) as it eagerly pulls for the century mark. Damn, this is a great engine! When revved to the heavens, it delivers a crisp response and smooth power.
Your spouse knows your game but is calm in the face of the climbing speeds. Together you trotted across Germany at 110 mph in a BMW 320d. The vastly superior M3 is doubly unchallenged at 90 mph. (God, you wish you were on the autobahn instead of Hwy 5!)
While the M3 is comfortable enough to take you nonstop from San Francisco to Laguna Beach, the fuel tank won’t allow it. (And neither will your offspring.) The empty light illuminates after 250 miles, and you don’t dare stretch it much further. With your high-speed driving, the M3 struggles to get more than 20 mpg on the highway.
The kids run around in the grass as you splash up at a busy truck stop. Then you switch duties with your spouse, folding yourself into the front-right seat as she takes the helm. Your better half drives at saner speeds, which are equally condoned by the M3.
As the afternoon wanes, you raise the motorized rear shade and manual side shades to shield your kids from the sun’s blazing rays. Nevertheless, the littles disintegrate into complaints and cries on the final leg of the journey. You throw Goldfish and sippy cups rearward as you futilely attempt to appease them.
When you arrive at your beachside destination, your family explodes out of the M3. It’s safely and swiftly conveyed you across California, but damn are you happy to be free of its crumb-strewn confines. Maybe next time, you’ll rent an SUV so you all can spread out!
Cadillac CTS-V Wagon – 1,000 Mile Road Trip
You reach down and grab the CTS-V’s battered key fob. (You dropped it a few times, and the brittle plastic cracked.) You don’t really want to drive the CTS-V on the San Diego road trip; the journey would be more pleasant in the Tesla Model 3. But you’ve got to get to your Airbnb by 4pm, and the Tesla’s charging stops would add two hours to the trip.
As you stuff suitcases, kitchen supplies, pool noodles, a stroller and a portable crib into the Cadillac, you realize that you’ll need to leave the trunk’s privacy cover at home because your mountain of gear is rising above the seatbacks. You hope the Airbnb’s neighborhood is good; you’d hate to have a window smashed by a snatch-and-go thief. You wistfully think that the Tesla could swallow all this gear invisibility, as it has a massive underfloor compartment in the trunk and a modest frunk.
After twenty minutes, everything is loaded, and your family hits the road. The Cadillac cruises in comfortably on the highway. The compliant magnetic-ride shocks give this sports wagon a ride fit for a Coupe DeVille, and the Recaro seats support you in all the right places (and blow cool air at your bum).
There’s a mild thrum from the big engine and the constant rush of wind and road, but by and large, the Cadillac is quiet and refined at 75 mph. With 556 supercharged horses on the reins, acceleration is never an issue. But fuel economy is!
Because of that big thirsty V8, you find yourself refueling every 160 miles. Of course, this range is not much further than the Model 3 Mid Range’s—the Tesla’s can stretch to about 150 miles—but the Caddy refills in 5 minutes whereas the Tesla takes 40 minutes.
When you pull away from the pumps, you notice the clutch chattering slightly. This only happens when the CTS-V is heavily loaded; today, it is burdened with 600 lbs of bodies and bags.
Your kids alternate between audiobooks and iPad videos as you drive. Because the Cadillac has no fast-charging USB plugs, you use cigarette-lighter DC adapters to power the electronics. You could play the podcasts over the car’s stereo if you had a headphone-style miniplug cable, but you lost it, and there’s no Bluetooth streaming in the CTS-V.
Halfway to San Diego, you are stiff and wishing you could trade duties with your spouse. But they don’t drive stick: The whole 500-mile journey is on you!
Your hard work and sacrifice pay off, and you make it to your Airbnb before 4pm. The ocean view from the deck is spectacular. By the time you’ve settled in and set up the house, the sun is sinking into the purple-tinted Pacific. Your spouse hands you a cocktail, and you collapse on a couch. It’s time to decompress from your eight-hour drive.
The CTS-V was not the best tool for the job, but it got you to SoSoCal in relative comfort and haste. Tomorrow you can start having fun.
Mercedes-AMG GT S – 1,000 Mile Road Trip
There’s a knock at the door. It’s your parents arriving for the weekend to take care of the kids. (Ha-le-fucking-lujah!)
It was so nice of them to offer a getaway for your tenth anniversary. You and your spouse used to take romantic trips all the time, but now that there are two young kids at home, those trips have evaporated.
You welcome Grandma and Grandpa into the house and give them the small manual you wrote on the children’s routines. (Providing instructions is just a formality because you know they are just going to spoil your kids with new toys, movies and ice cream.)
As they settle in, you start loading the luggage into the GT S. You’ve made your spouse pack in duffle bags because the GT S’s trunk is wide and deep, but it is not very tall. Thankfully, you’re going on a beach vacation, so you don’t need bulky winter gear.
When the car is packed snugly, you kiss the kids goodbye and hit the road.
On the highway, the GT S cruises well. Obviously, the V8 has oodles of torque for passing left-lane lollygaggers. But if you keep your foot light, the car will return 22 mpg. Not bad for a 503hp beast!
With its 19-gallon fuel tank, the GT S has a theoretical 400-mile range. But you’ll never travel half that distance between stopping because the sports seats are too tight, and the ride is too jiggly. Instead, you break every two hours to stretch and decompress; your back and legs demand it.
Thanks in part to the open trunk behind the passenger compartment, the cabin vibrates with road noise. It’s awful on worn concrete freeways, where the blistered slabs send booms and jolts through the GT S. Your only mitigation is to avoid the rightmost lanes where the heavy trucks tread. When you encounter fresh pavement, you breathe a sigh of relief. The roar fades away, giving your ringing ears and buzzing brain a chance to recover.
Thus, when you arrive in Dana Point seven hours later, you are very happy to flex your creaky knees and stiffly fall out of the GT S. Disheveled though you may be, the Ritz Carlton valet welcomes you with a smile. You wonder if he’ll park the GT S out front with the Bentleys and Ferraris.
After finding your room and taking a quick swim for a refreshment, you return to the valet stand on the way to dinner. Hey! Look at that! They did park the GT S out front.
The GT S makes arriving at dinner a little bit more of an event, though your spouse wishes the car was easier to get into and out of. Honey, sports cars are low; that’s just a fact!
For the next few days, the GT S shuttles you between the hotel, beach and restaurants. Then, on your final day, you plot a route home with a few fun detours. Rather than retrace monotonous Highway 5, you string together rural mountain byways from LA to San Jose.
The journey is 50% longer but 1,000% more entertaining. Now the GT S is glorious, working at its best. It sweeps over mountains and roars through valleys. And your right leg, which is now busy jumping between gas and brake, isn’t quite as stiff as it was on the highway.
Thanks to the backroads, you forgive the GT S for being stiff, noisy, and cramped. (Your spouse, on the other hand, is now carsick and wishes you’d taken the boring route home to the kids.)
Tesla Model 3 – Canyon Run
You grab the AMG GT S’s key but then pause. You took the AMG the last time you went into the canyons…and the nine times before that! How about something different?
You drop the key back onto the table and stride outside empty-handed. Which, of course, means you’ll be taking the Model 3. (For the Tesla, your phone is the key.)
Though you’ve owned the Model 3 for three years, you’ve taken it on fewer than five canyon runs. Never mind that the Model 3 is your default vehicle for errands and family trips; when it comes to the twisted fun—attacking curvy mountain roads—the Model 3 Mid Range can’t hold a candle to your ICE enthusiast specials.
But today, curiosity caught the cat. The Model 3 recently got new shoes—Tesla-spec Michelin Pilot Sport 4 summers. How will the Tesla run in its new kicks? Its original Michelin Primacy MXM all seasons were confidence-sapping in the corners.
You usually head for your favorite roads on your early morning exploits. But those roads are an hour away, and you aren’t that curious about the Tesla’s improved moves. Instead, you’ll go to your local playground, five minutes away.
(That wouldn’t be enough driving to warm the fluids on your CTS-V, but the EV Model 3 doesn’t have such considerations.)
The fun starts on the smooth and twisting tarmac. With stacked hairpins and short straights, this would qualify as a second-gear road in traditional terms. But your Model 3 Mid Range has no gears. Instead, it has an electric motor sandwiched between the rear axles and the oomph to fling you from 25 mph to 50 mph between the corners. Model 3 sprints its hardest at these speeds and lunges down the road with unbelievable thrust for a 258 hp/284 lb-ft car.
While the acceleration is unchanged by the French rubber makeover, the braking is a brave new world. The old Primacy MXMs were wooden under duress; your personal 7/10ths braking (or cornering) would have the tires skating over the pavement at their 9/10ths capability.
Not so with the new Pilot Sport 4s! Finally, you have the stop to match the Model 3’s go. The Tesla now brakes and turns as assertively as your BMW M3 (which is on slightly racier Pilot Sport 4S tires).
With the weakest-link Primacy MXMs removed, the Model 3’s firm suspension starts to make sense. The gummier tires let you carry more speed through the corners, and the stiffer shocks fight the resulting body roll. The Tesla feels like a more cohesive sports sedan on the Pilot Sport 4s; the car must have been developed around the summer rubber.
(Though, considering your preference for the Model 3 as an errand runner, you’d still prefer a softer ride for in-town comfort.)
The Model 3’s quick steering and low center of gravity imbue it with a sports-car-like hunger for corners. The smidge of body roll that remains doesn’t spoil the fun or control. You trail brake into the corners and smash the accelerator on the way out, amazed at the balance of this little rocket. The front end is pinned on the way in, and there is sufficient torque to challenge the rear tires on the way out.
But the car’s safety net cuts in well before the tires’ full potential is tapped. You never have—and you never will—found oversteer joy in the Model 3 Mid Range. (An upgrade to the Model 3 Performance is required for drift mode.) Tesla is bold enough to let you beta test autonomous driving; why won’t they let you turn off ESP?!!
When you cross the county line, the road stretches into longer straights but goes from being frozen custard smooth to Ben and Jerry’s chunky. The Model 3 maintains its handling composure over the lumpier pavement, even as the most severe bumps separate your butt from the seat cushion. You have the utmost confidence in the chassis and tires, but after repeated heavy braking events, you wonder if the undersized pads and rotors have the thermal stamina for prolonged hooning. You think they’d need upgrades to be track-worthy.
After 20 minutes, you have the Model 3’s pulse. You turn around and race for home. Flying around a blind corner, you startle a jogger with the Model 3’s quiet speed; he didn’t expect to see something so silent moving so rapidly.
And, if you’re honest, neither did you. As someone who grew up on gears and gasoline, you find it unnatural (unfamiliar?) how the Model 3 builds pace in a whispering rush and erases that velocity with regenerative braking first and friction braking second. Your traditional go-fast cues are missing, and you need more time to learn the EV’s unique way of communicating pace.
For now, hooning the Model 3 is more intellectually curious than straight-up silly. It might be a while before you take the Model 3 out for another fling. The siren call of internal combustion engines and multi ratio gearboxes will stay strong when you’re tempted by twisted fun.
BMW M3 – Canyon Run
The M3 has been nestled under its car cover for a month and needs some exercise. So, with the BMW fob in one hand and a backpack in the other, you make for the M3.
The S65 V8 awakes from its long slumber with a rorty growl. The DCT transmission feels slightly clunky as you pull away from the curb. This transmission has always been clumsy in stop-and-go situations.
As the oil warms, the tachometer’s trick variable redline creeps higher. You still find it incredible how the clock face rotates to raise the redline. In a few minutes, the whole 8,300 rpm is available.
On your favorite canyon road, you jab a steering wheel button to call up M mode. Your personal settings leave the steering, suspension and throttle unchanged (respectively as Comfort, Comfort and Normal), but the ESP is turned off, and the shift speeds are quickened.
As you get into your groove, you work the S65 harder and higher. Before you know it, you are using all of the revs.
It’s a guilty, antisocial pleasure to swing the tachometer needle from 7k to 8,300 rpm. This is the V8 as its best self, screaming like a banshee as the M3 bolts like a scalded cat. You are absolutely convinced that 414 hp, delivered as such, is plenty for any road.
You lean the car into the corners. It feels firmly glued to the ground; it’s unperturbed by the S65’s modest torque and the kicks from the buckling pavement.
That is until a vicious bump consumes the suspension travel and frays your nerves. The M3 avoids any missteps, but the car is driven onto its bump stops. You use Comfort mode in the canyons because it’s, well, more comfortable, but the M3 really needs to be in Normal or Sport to best control the wheels. (The long-travel shocks on your CTS-V cover this ground much more confidently.)
When you make it to the hairpins, you pine for your forced-induction rides. Driven with respect for the alpine flanks, the M3 is eternally glued and lacks the torque to roast rubber out of even first gear corners. (To drift the M3, you need to aggressively huck it into the corners while keeping the engine at high rpm. That’s a game you’d play on a controlled track, but not on a mountain road.)
When you complete your canyon sojourn, you think about how the M3 wasn’t quite in its element. It needs a ten-tenths flogging (on a track) for full enjoyment of the chassis and engine. Then there is harmony and total control. But dial back the pace and grip wins over the torque, costing the M3 its playful adjustability.
Cadillac CTS-V Wagon – Canyon Run
You’re excited to grab the CTS-V’s keys as you run out the door for your canyon run. It’s been a while since you gave the CTS-V a proper workout. (The new-to-you AMG GT S has been getting all of your attention.)
You make sure to fill up the tank before your favorite canyon road. When it’s driven with vigor, the CTS-V drains fuel like a drunken sailor swills rum. You don’t want to run dry in ranch country!
Your favorite back road is rough and bumpy, but that doesn’t bother the CTS-V one iota. Its magnetic-ride shocks are perfectly comfortable in their Tour setting and nearly as comfortable—but better at quelling body roll—in Sport.
The CTS-V is a heavy car, but it charges like a rhino down the straights. From 3k rpm on, the 6.2L engine mashes you into the Recaro seat. The V8 mumbles a muted thrum (the stock exhaust is quite conservative), and the supercharger’s shrill scream calls back memories of the dentist’s drill.
When you throw it into the corners, the wagon gently lists sideways and holds commendably to the road. The body roll is one bit of information you use to suss out the CTS-V’s limits. The car’s communicative steering—which wavers and shimmies as the tires knead the road—and its equally talkative chassis provide the rest of the data. You always know the four corners’ work.
Finally, you make it to the stacked climb up the mountain. Here the CTS-V becomes a hoon monster. The big V8 and lenient ESP (in Competition mode) let you roast the tires out of the hairpins. Some marketing genius at Pirelli said, “Power is nothing without control.” Well, in the CTS-V, you have the tools to manage the might.
Just shy of the summit, the car bongs and a differential overheating warning appears in the instrument cluster. You’ve seen this error on prior outings: it occurs after 20 minutes of hard driving. It’s the main reason you haven’t taken the CTS-V to the track. Maybe you’ll buy a differential cooler someday…
Or maybe you won’t. Because your V is 1 of 514 manual wagons in the USA, and having it peppered with tire boogers and rocks would just chip away at its value.
Oh well!
Differential problems or not, the CTS-V is a near-perfect canyon companion. You let it cool as you take in the summit’s views, then buckle up, fire up the mighty motor, and head down the mountain for more raunchy fun.
Mercedes-AMG GT S – Canyon Run
You grab the keys to the GT S as you rush out the door. You’re happy to get some me-time after a stressful week. And the GT S is the perfect machine for blowing off steam.
After an hour of freeway driving, you arrive at your favorite road. It starts narrowly, just one and a half lanes shared by two-way traffic. You tread carefully around the blind corners; you don’t want to spoil your fun with a head-on collision!
Once you cross the county line, the road widens and grows shoulders. This is the good stuff! It twists along the stream canyon and climbs over the hills to ranch country.
You turn up the wick, working the throttle and brakes harder. The GT S makes a throaty rumble as you whip it to redline. Homesteads and horses fly by out your side windows. Gravel pings off the undercarriage when you stomp on the big red binders.
Through the steering, you can feel the tires and suspension at work. The helm bumps left and right as the wheels are deflected by frost heaves and potholes. When the paving gets coarser, gritty vibrations reverberate along the steering column.
Honestly, this road is a bit too bumpy for the stiffly suspended GT S. Oh well! You are here because it’s the most remote backroad in your region, the one that’s sufficiently secluded for you to explore the GT S’s considerable potential.
Then, after meandering through canyons and flying through valleys, the road hits the flanks of a formidable mountain. Ahead is 2,000 feet of elevation gain, densely packed into six miles of coiled corners.
You attack with glee. The V8 thirstily turns fuel into fumes and forward fury. The iron brakes trade speed for thermal waste, slowing your “whoa!” at the end of the short straights. And the tires—recently refreshed Michelin Pilot Sport 4S’s—smash the hairpins like a vise grip crushing a copper pipe. In less than eight minutes, you’ve summited the peak.
Like a race winner climbing onto the top podium, you park in the highest spot, the one with the most commanding view. Behind you, the GT S whirs and ticks loudly as it furiously sheds heat. Below you, beyond the oak-dotted foothills, San Jose’s urban sprawl spreads far and wide. Above you? There’s nothing above you.
You are the champion, conqueror of canyons, master of mountains.
Tesla Model 3 – Track Day
As you stare at the keys on the table, you briefly consider taking the Model 3 to the track. “Why not?” you think. The Tesla has plenty of power, and thanks to its new Michelin Pilot Sport 4 tires, it has the grip to match.
But you already know why not.
Some of the reasons are practical:
Your local track doesn’t have great charging options; living with range anxiety at a $250 track day is no fun. Furthermore, you don’t trust the Model 3’s stock brake pads to handle 100 mph stops every 30 seconds for 20 minutes.
Some of the reasons are philosophical:
You love track time because it builds your driving skill. To grow as a driver, you need to take the car to the edge and wrangle with the consequences. The Model 3’s conservative ESP jumps in way too early for you to find the limits; it’s not a good learner’s car.
Go back and pick a different car.
BMW M3 – Track Day
With your helmet bag in one hand and backpack in the other, you hustle off to the M3. You tuck the helmet in the trunk, alongside the toolbox, compact jack, and folding chair you packed last night.
The M3 awakes with a guttural drone, and you quickly throw it into drive and get in motion to not abuse your neighbors on this quiet morning. In a few minutes, the car has warmed and quieted, and your cushy seat is now toasty, thanks to the embedded heaters.
It’s an easy 30-minute drive to the track. Once you arrive, you bustle around, setting up your spot in the paddock. Readying the M3 is as easy as torquing the lug nuts and adjusting the tire pressures. Before you know it, your first session is called, and soon you’re cleaning out cobwebs with 100 mph blasts and 1g cornering. The 20-minute session feels short, but it’s all the time you need to remember the track rhythm. You’re now ready to set some personal bests.
An hour later, you’re back on track for your second session and fully enveloped in a red-mist battle with a Honda S2000. It’s hard to keep up with the lighter car in the corners, but the thrill of the chase has you braking later and carrying more speed past the apex. The M3 is balanced—if on the safe side of neutral—letting you trail brake with impunity. (Only the off-camber turns threaten to spin you around.) When the straights approach, you open the throttle and let the electronic LSD put the power to the ground. Before you know it, your S2000 chase nets you a new personal best lap.
The rest of the day is just as fun. The M3’s neutral balance, and the lightning reactivity of the S65 V8 at 8k rpm, make the car ever so rewarding on the track. The nuanced work of finding the perfect line is done via the M3’s brakes and throttle, never mind the steering! If you screw up slightly, the M3 forgives you and offers you the tools to correct it. (Only abrupt driver inputs or vicious bumps will swing the M3’s ass sideways.)
Though the track rats complain about fade from the OEM single-piston brakes, those guys run race rubber, and you don’t. On street tires, you’ve never had a problem. A pad upgrade and high-temp fluid were all the hardening your M3 required.
The Competition Pack suspension, even at its stiffest, still allows body roll and requires patient hands. Flick-flack corners must be taken deliberately to avoid pendulum-snapping the M3 into oversteer. Ultimately, the M3 is a racy street car rather than a streetable racecar; it asks for measured inputs.
After the fifth and final session, you are happily exhausted. The M3 is dirty but no worse for wear. (Well, the front tires’ shoulders have suffered abuse; you really need to install camber plates!)
You continue to be amazed by the M3 on track. It is as exciting in a race as it is comfortable in town.
Cadillac CTS-V Wagon – Track Day
As your fingers brush the Cadillac’s plastic key fob, a shadow of doubt darkens your mind. Yes, you’d love to pass sports cars at the track in your 556 hp CTS-V wagon, and you know that the V wagon is capable of showing two (very long) tail lights to the two-door competition, but the last time the CTS-V was in the canyons it overheated its rear differential in 20 minutes. You’ll be driving much harder at the track than you did in the canyon; it’s not worth throwing away track time (or damaging your drivetrain) just to flex the Cadillac’s considerable muscles.
What a shame! The Caddy’s brakes and chassis seem up to the task!
You put the CTS-V’s key back on the table. You’ll take a car that can go full tilt for 20 minutes without illuminating warning lights.
Go back and pick a different car.
Mercedes-AMG GT S – Track Day
With excitement and anticipation, you slip the AMG’s key into your pocket. After all, the GT S is best at the track!
In your M3, you were able to bring your toolbox, jack and pop-up tent. But the clearance in the GT S’s trunk is too low for even the jumbo-size toolbox, so you’ve extracted the bare essentials: a torque wrench, breaker bar, tire pressure gauge, emergency air compressor and painter’s tape. (If anything goes wrong today, you’ll have to call in the pros.)
You scoop up armfuls of loose tools from the foyer and head for the GT S. The tools are carefully placed in the broad luggage compartment alongside your helmet, food and water.
It’s a two-hour slog to the track. You snack and listen to podcasts as you drive. The highway has been worn rough by trucking traffic; the GT S’s cabin is boomy and awash with noise. You’re grateful when you make it to some fresh pavement, and the noise hushes.
Once at the track, you sign in and get ready for your first session. The trunk is emptied into your parking spot, the GoPro dangles from the sunroof, and the data logger sucker-kisses the windscreen.
Your first lap of the day starts slowly as you remember your braking and turning landmarks. But in a few minutes, your adrenaline is pumping, starting you on a high that will last all day.
With its big engine stuffed deep in its long nose, the GT S looks like a high-speed transcontinental hauler. At every corner exit, the 4.0L V8 makes good on the impression by hauling the horizon up to the front bumper. But because it’s a nasty 100°F outside, the GT S is less energetic than usual. The front straight was good for 110 mph in March; today, it’s a struggle to hit 103 mph.
Regardless, the GT S is magic in motion. The steering, pedals and seat have you swimming in feedback. You’d need a Matrix-style head jack to be any more connected to the car. (Not that a hardline is necessary; you already feel plugged into the machine.)
The signal is the strongest in the long corners. You enter them with violence, slamming on the brakes and then gently bleeding away the pedal pressure. The GT S sits hard on its front tires and rolls its weight sideways as you gently feed in the steering. (The quick steering ratio requires calm hands.)
Now comes the fun part: five seconds of sustained lateral G’s.
Through a long lefthander, the GT S sticks with the gooey gumption usually reserved for spit-laden Bubblicious on your best shoes’ soles. When the contours of the land fall away and the corner banking ebbs, the front tires gently smear wide. You sense the nascent understeer and lift-prod the throttle to throw more weight on the car’s nose. The GT S trims its course, regaining its poise and setting up for a blistering entry onto the straightaway.
The nerve-calming understeer in the high-speed corners is matched with flirtatious oversteer in the tight hairpins. The track’s stop-and-go 180’s have you quickly cranking the steering and pouncing on the throttle in futile attempts to make the slow corners fast. When you are over-exuberant with the power, the GT S slurs sideways. The breakaway is mild—there’s no snap oversteer—and you ride it out with a dab of oppo.
(The new Michelin Pilot Sport 4S’s on the rear wheels deserve high praise for putting down the power in the fast corners and giving you time to recover skids in the slow ones. They are supreme confidence boosters and slice seconds off your lap times.)
The GT S allows oversteer because the ESP is off. It was an act of desperation that made you long-press the button in the first place. The active Collision Avoidance Assistant kept panicking when you approached slower traffic in the braking zones. After being strangled by the seat belt pretensioner for the umpteenth time, you killed the ESP, as it was the only way to defeat the active safety systems too. Thankfully, the GT S is gentle as a caress and as trustworthy as a promise when driven assistance-free.
On this sweltering day, you expected trouble from the brakes, but in fact, it’s the transmission that’s misstepping. The Race mode programming usually picks the right gear for each apex, but today, you catch it downshifting at the corner apex and upshifting before redline. The gear changes are smooth enough to avoid spoiling the car’s balance, but you wonder if the transmission is soft-shoeing it to keep the drivetrain temps at bay. If so, it may be justified: The engine oil has crested 250°F, the transmission oil is at 200°F, and the coolant gauge has exceeded 120°F…and is flashing red! It’s time to kill the A/C and take a cool-down lap.
Hiccups aside, the GT S feels like the fastest momentum car you’ve ever tracked. Its traction, balance and transparent communication inspire bravery, and the motor rarely dishes more than the chassis can handle.
Like you, the GT S loves living on the edge.
Mike's Steering Column 