Twenty-five years is a long time, isn’t it? Presently, the life expectancy of an American male is 75.8 years, so it’s about one-third of the days and hours we’re hopefully blessed with to think about cars.
If you’re a woman, you can expect to live an additional 5.3 years, which gives you even more time to enjoy your cars. Or get rid of the ones the men in your life have accumulated…
Cars are important to us; good cars are paramount. Collectively, the staff of writers and editors at Hagerty Media have been researching just how long 25 years really is in the automotive world. The result of our research—and that word might be a bit scholarly to properly describe our thought process—has led us to create two lists. Today, it’s 25 cars that have left the biggest impression on us from the past 25 years. Tomorrow, same thing, but with trucks, SUVs, and vans.
The idea came to us when we looked at the calendar and realized the 21st century was a quarter finished. Here’s what happened next: We each wrote down our own list of the vehicles we thought met the criteria for inclusion. The criteria were pretty relaxed: The vehicle had to be in production for at least one model year between 2000 and 2025. And, well, that’s it. We applied no mass metrics, leaving it up to the individual list makers to champion their selections. We combined all those lists into one really long list, and then the Zoom staff meetings began.
We discussed every vehicle on that master list, and the advocates for each explained why it belonged. It was a surprisingly civil process, though there were some impassioned pleas. To remain on the list, an approximate majority of us had to agree that the vehicle had some sort of attribute that set it apart—maybe it was solid styling, a successful powertrain, a nimble chassis, an enviable work ethic (that was for trucks, mostly), a buy-in that was a significant bargain, soaring resale value, innovative engineering, you name it.
Typically, the vehicles that stayed on the list to the end, surviving multiple around-the-horn dissections, had multiple merits that, car to car, varied dramatically. Which is why today’s list includes the Toyota Camry LE and the Ferrari 458, the Ford Crown Victoria and the Dodge Viper ACR, the Mini Cooper and the Bugatti Veyron.
And it’s why tomorrow’s list has the Hummer H1 and the Pontiac Aztek. There’s the Porsche Cayenne, the Rivian R1T, the Chevrolet Avalanche, and you just know the Tesla Cybertruck made the list.
We divvied up the winning vehicles and allowed ourselves a few paragraphs to explain a given vehicle’s inclusion. We’re pleased with how it all turned out, and we’ll remain that way until you tell us in the comments what knuckleheads we are.—Steven Cole Smith
Capable, comfortable, and an incredible bang for the buck, the fifth-gen Corvette brought America’s sports car into modernity. There are valid arguments for newer-gen Corvettes on this list, but it’s hard to imagine the last 25 years of the model’s resounding success if the C5 hadn’t been the home run that it was. And, since this is a list about unforgettable cars from this century, we’re obliged to include the final Corvette with pop-up headlamps.
This clean-sheet Corvette redesign almost didn’t happen—a small group of die-hard engineers and execs had to scramble to secure the project’s green light—but the resulting car took the model from a dated financial drain to a profitable smash hit. The laundry list of improvements and focus-group-driven considerations (like ensuring ease on ingress/egress for people over 6 feet tall) could fill a book—and has—but the core components of the C5’s success were its stiff hydroformed frame; a front-engine/rear transaxle layout that helped provide more interior space and better chassis balance; and the needs-no-introduction LS1 aluminum small-block V-8 stuffed under the hood. In the C5, the Corvette had become a user-friendly, daily-drivable sports car with performance on par with just about anything then on offer, and Bowling Green cranked out as many of them as it could as a result.
Compared with the vast array of new Corvette trims currently available, Chevy stuck to a simple formula for the C5’s run. The coupe debuted first, with a convertible following in 1998 and a no-frills fixed-roof coupe running from 1999 to 2000. The hot-rod Z06 hit the streets in 2001, and it melded the fixed-roof coupe with a 385-horse (405 hp in 2002-and-later models) LS6, more aggressive gearing, and a host of handling tweaks. The extensive option list enabled buyers to spec their Vette into a decked-out cruiser, a track-ready bruiser, or anything in between.
What would I have ordered a quarter-century ago? Tempted though I am to pick a Z06, an ’02–03 coupe in Electron Blue with a six-speed manual and the Z51 suspension package would be the C5 for me. I love the sweeping lines of the back glass, and the targa top is a must-have.—Eddy Eckart
A certain Hagerty staffer would have you believe that Cadillac built the best eight-cylinder four-door of the 21st century. (It’s Eddy.) And I agree that the Cadillac CT5-V Blackwing belongs in the über sedan canon, no question. It is the all-American answer to Germany’s autobahn bombers: fun to drive, nice to look at, easy to love. But it’s not the benchmark, and if we’re judging on pavement instead of paper, neither is any of the very latest German fare.
That honor should go to the third-generation (E39) BMW M5. With this car, the Bavarians pushed the sports sedan envelope into a new millennium and drew the blueprint for the segment’s next 25 years on the back of it: a robust V-8 powering the rear wheels, subtly muscular styling cues for those in the know, prodigious straight-line speed, and a corner office of a cockpit. A quarter-century down the road, that checklist is all but unchanged. In period, however, the E39 M5 could be considered an act of sacrilege.
Specifically, this was the first M car with a V-8, a marked change in trajectory from the motorsport-derived inline-sixes that built the high-performance sub-brand’s reputation on the circuit and the street in the 1980s and ’90s. Sure, the original M3 dominated touring car competition with a high-strung four-pot, and BMW conquered Le Mans in 1999 (and in 1995, if you count the McLaren F1’s Bimmer mill) with a V-12, but V-8s simply weren’t part of the M mythos back then. Those qualms were quickly dispatched upon the rave-review debut, and thus the E39 M5 and its 4.9-liter, 394-hp, quad-cam aluminum V-8 (the S62B50) marked a new era of the “executive express” concept while simultaneously bringing the entire M brand into the future.
I’m a sucker for launch-year “brochure” cars, so I’d spec one in Silverstone Metallic over a two-tone silver-and-black interior, similar to but not exactly like the 2001 example used in Guy Ritchie’s short film, Star.
That was a formative nine minutes for a car-obsessed tween without a license, and when I eventually bought an M5 a decade later, I found those on-screen antics to be a surprisingly accurate portrayal of what it feels like to drive one. You don’t have to drift with no hands on the wheel or jump off exit ramps like Clive; a simple tap of the gas pedal at a red light and the accompanying basso burble and slight chassis twist is enough to put the same cheeky grin on your face.—Alex Sobran
Twenty-five years ago, Porsche was in the midst of major change, and the purist’s outlook was bleak: The company had bolstered its balance sheet with a plasticky entry-level convertible, it was getting ready to launch its first SUV (partially funded by the cancelation of a Le Mans project, no less), and, perhaps worst of all, the 911 had weird headlights and a water-cooled engine. All signs pointing to the future spelled “Bleh.”
Even the motorsport programs were trending toward the mundane, with Porsche pulling away from top-level prototypes to focus on lower-tier GT cars that mostly raced each other at the back of the pack for class wins while Audi’s burgeoning dynasty took the true glory. Was this the same Porsche that had created the 917 and built 1000-horsepower F1 engines?
Despite the dullness of these financially prudent times, Porsche launched the most impactful 911 since the original. Arriving in 1999 to homologate Porsche’s GT3-spec racer (hence the name), the 911 GT3 was a revelation not for any sort of radical progress, but because it harked back to a well-worn formula: Strip the creature comforts, focus on performance and driving pleasure instead of panache or price-point, incorporate motorsport knowledge, etcetera, etcetera.
In that sense, the GT3 was immediately familiar. What made it revolutionary was its deft blending of the old 911 hot-rod recipe with the company’s new design and engineering direction. It wasn’t the first Porsche GT model to wear a license plate, but whereas the GT2 and GT1 were extreme aberrations with nearly zero impact on Porsche’s road-car roadmap, the 996 GT3 was responsible for keeping the carmaker’s enthusiast ethos alive in the form of a mass-produced product.
The multitude of Porsche’s track-focused GTs and RSes that followed owe their lofty place in automotive enthusiast culture to the original 996 GT3. The mid-cycle update—the 996.2-generation 911 GT3, launched in 2003—was the first Porsche GT car to reach North American shores, and was the first GT developed under the guidance of Andreas Preuninger, who directs the Porsche GT line to this day.—Alex Sobran
If aliens landed from space and demanded one car to serve as representative of the BMW brand, here it is: the E46-generation 3 Series. Its ride and handling were sublime, perfectly straddling responsiveness and comfort. Its straight-six engines were smooth and torquey. Brakes were strong and the steering more natural than eggs and bacon for breakfast. Styling was sober yet sophisticated, with subtle curves to offset the boxiness that had previously defined BMW design. It was neither too big nor too small on the outside, and the interior felt tidy but still spacious, with quality materials and near-faultless ergonomics. I dearly miss my departed 323iT wagon, lowered on Bilsteins, though I do not miss its copious Midwest rust.
Across all body styles, in practically every country in which it was offered, the E46 was dominant. You could have it as a wagon, a convertible, a coupe, or a sedan. With or without all-wheel drive. Or in tire-roasting M3 guise, packing one of Munich’s finest-ever mills—the S54 3.2-liter six and its 320 horses. Loved by critics, adored by owners, and red hot on the show floor, the E46 defined the luxury sport sedan segment the world over from the moment it launched for the 1999 model year. In the subsequent seven years, BMW utterly smashed the competition with it, selling more than 3 million cars globally and putting the Audi A4 and Mercedes C-Class to shame. When a law student got their diploma, it might as well have come with a three-year lease on a 325i.
Beyond sales success, the 3 Series became an undeniable benchmark for driving dynamics. The car was a fixture on Car and Driver’s 10Best list. So when sport sedans like the Cadillac ATS were mere twinkles in the eyes of engineers, it was the E46 they hoped to channel. Nearly two decades since the final E46 went out of production in 2006, these Bimmers are still on roads all over the world. Great 3 Series generations came before and arrived after it, yet none but the fourth generation measured up to BMW’s claim as the Ultimate Driving Machine.—Eric Weiner
As if the regular Dodge Viper wasn’t capable enough (my opinion: it was), several times, beginning in 1999, the company offered an ACR edition, which stood for American Club Racing, indicating that the car arrived from the factory very nearly ready for competition. It’s a designation that was also used for the Dodge Neon and SRT-4, though their ACR modifications weren’t as drastic. Our favorite Viper ACR arrived as a 2016 model, complete with a sobering base price of just over $120,000. It was the most extreme ACR yet and included a carbon-fiber body kit that substantially increased downforce, specially designed Brembo brakes with carbon-fiber discs, and fat Kumho tires that were exclusive to the ACR.
In test drives of the 2016 Viper ACR, multiple reviewers complained the car was just no fun on the street—loud, cramped, and too rough-riding. Others, including me, weren’t bothered by that: Indeed, for some reason, I just seem to fit in a Viper, be it the original, bare-bones RT/10 roadster that arrived in 1992, or the 2016 ACR. The following year, the Viper plant was closed, and that was that. We toss around terms like “the end of an era,” but it really was. A Viper prototype was shown at the Detroit Auto Show in 1989, fully endorsed by Chrysler executive Bob Lutz and eventually green-lit by his boss, Lee Iacocca. The massive, absurd 8.0-liter V-10 had 400 horsepower; by the time the 2016 Viper ACR arrived, displacement had grown to 8.4 liters, with 645 horsepower.
From the start, all Dodge Vipers, including the 2016 ACR, had a unique personality on the track. You did not drive them with a Ferrari-like finesse, but you did have to attend to the Viper’s particular set of skills in turns, or it would spin you off into the weeds like a top. Improvements made to the 2016 ACR did indeed increase its on-track capability, but the Viper’s demand that you should pay attention was linear. This ACR handled much better than the original models, to the point where you just dialed up your speeds until you arrived right back on the edge. I raced a Viper ACR in the one-make Viper Challenge series a couple of times, and it was hot handful, but so much fun.
End of an era? Yeah, that pretty much covers it. The world was better when there were Viper ACRs in the showroom.—Steven Cole Smith
The transition from 20th to 21st century sure was a great time for Honda, wasn’t it? Honda engines were screaming away in Indy and F1, the affordable Civic Si and Prelude SH brought the virtues of VTEC to younger car freaks (like me), the NSX was still going strong, and a few pocket-rocket Integra Type Rs even trickled into this country. As if those weren’t enough, Honda rang in its 50th anniversary in 1999 with a brand new sports car—the S2000.
The new S2K was similar in spirit, look, and layout to Honda’s S500/600/800 series from the 1960s, but like the genre-resurrecting Miata from 1990, it blended the classic roadster concept with modern technology and Japanese reliability. It was also a step above the Miata in almost every measurable way, including price. It even did a lot of things better than more expensive would-be rivals from BMW, Porsche, and Mercedes-Benz. The hot Honda managed to be an analog driver’s car with great balance, a truly musical exhaust note, a standard six-speed manual and limited-slip diff, solid performance numbers, and wind-in-your-hair motoring. But it also brought creature comforts, a sharp-looking interior, and the bulletproof dependability of an Accord. It was just as comfortable at the autocross as it was on the commute, and that ain’t an easy mix to achieve.
In its first iteration, the S2K’s 1997-cc twin-cam four with VTEC variable valve timing delivered 240 horsepower at a screaming 8800 rpm, making it the most powerful naturally aspirated engine relative to displacement at the time. The car’s only major revision came in 2004, with a facelift, suspension tweaks, and a longer-stroke 2175-cc engine that lowered redline to a slightly quieter 8000-rpm scream while delivering more torque. Speaking of torque, there was never much of it (153 lb-ft in the 2.0-liter, 162 lb-ft in the 2.2), while VTEC and peak power only come on sky-high in the rev range. That said, it’s always fun to drive a car that makes you work for it, and an S2000 will reward you every time. “Our advice is to treat the S2000 like you hate it and you’ll get the most out of it. We did and loved every minute of it,” said Motor Trend.
The earlier AP1 (1999–2003) and later AP2 (2004–09) both have their accolades, but I’d have an AP1 version with its cleaner styling and 9K rpm revability. In Spa Yellow, too, please.—Andrew Newton
Many cars have been described as “go-karts for the street.” Few truly live up to such a high bar of enjoyment, especially as crash test ratings and small luxuries have conspired to bloat cars into things that bear zero relation to a simple kart in look, vibe, or, most importantly, experience. While rare, some cars do pull it off. Case in point: the R53 Mini.
Reviving any brand is a tough task, but to capture the look and feel of British Motor Corporation’s iconic Mini was certainly walking a knife edge. As with the Volkswagen Beetle, the “original” Mini, first built in 1959, held on for far longer than most people realize, with production of the seventh generation of cars finally wrapping up in 2000. BMW then moved to revive the brand name in 2001, with heaps of characteristic styling (albeit in a package nearly 2 feet longer than the original), but underpinning it all with a wonderful chassis and powertrain.
Gone was the 77-horsepower 1275-cc inline-four that had hung on for decades. In its place beneath the short hood sat a 132-hp 1.6-liter four sourced from Tritec Motors in Brazil. Cooper S and John Cooper Works trim levels received a supercharger to boost that 1.6 up to 163 and 200 ponies, respectively. Combined with a delightfully chunky shifter and the classic “bulldog stance” that pushed the wheels as far to the corners of the chassis as possible, the R53 was a nimble, playful car. The engines have proven durable over the years and the chassis responds well to tuning, making the Mini a great choice for a driver who balances regular traffic with empty canyons or a weekend autocross.
Of course, there is no substitute for the simplicity of the first Mini, but for a modern rebirth to capture so much of the original without being gimmicky is rare. The 2001–06 Mini will never not be a hoot to drive, even the base model, and I’ve had a smile stuck to my face every time I’ve gotten behind the wheel. BMW absolutely succeeded in capturing so much of what made the first Mini so great, and the R53 offers far more than a mere nod to its namesake. A go-kart for the street? Yep.—Kyle Smith
This one could really just be a few words; something like, “Seriously, was there a better example of a simple, well-built, reliable-as-the-day-is-long car in this century?”
But we’ll dig in a bit more. The XV30 Toyota Camry, produced from 2002 to 2006, was a marvel of engineering and anonymity. You probably knew someone who had one. And that’s just it—they only ever had one, because, barring a wreck, you never needed to find a replacement. They just went forever.
If you were in high school from about 2008 to 2016, there’s an exceptionally high chance that there were a few of these in your school parking lot. We’d bet the farm that they also had the signature Camry dent, a strange phenomenon that seems to have become as much of a badge of honor for these owners as are high odometer readings. The kids who drove them had parents with incredibly sensible investment portfolios—just index funds till the cows came home. They were smart people. Still are, because they drove an XV30 Camry.
The Camry LE, essentially the base model, has a special place in our hearts as maybe the best example of “everything you need, nothing you don’t” for the modern highway. You’d get fabric seats that held up … fine, a 157-horsepower, 2.4-liter inline four that could clatter on until the heat death of the universe, space to comfortably transport four adults, and some speakers. Good ones? Hardly. But they worked. You could splash for an optional JBL system if you really wanted, but that was between you and your accountant.
To this day, the Camry represents the archetype for sensible as hell, completely anonymous transportation. That legacy was formulated by the Camrys of the early 1990s, but it crystallized with the XV30.—Nathan Petroelje
It’s hard to think of a model that better capitalized on its forbidden-fruit status than Subaru’s WRX. Thanks in no small part to Colin McRae and the high-flying blue-and-yellow ’90s Imprezas he piloted in the World Rally Championship, along with a healthy dose of auto-journo teasing on the part of Subaru, the debut of the 2002 “Bugeye” Impreza WRX instantly defined a segment and created a generation of brand-loyal consumers in the States.
Europe and Japan got the full-beans WRX in 1993, while Americans only knew the Impreza in the flesh as underpowered, if capable basic transportation. The best we got was the naturally aspirated 2.5RS that arrived in 1998; you had to head to your PlayStation—or read the breathless copy of fortunate journalists—in order to get a taste of Subaru’s fun versions. The pixels and ink generated a boatload of positive buzz, though, and convinced Subie to bring the WRX stateside with the second generation of the Impreza.
Available as a four-door sedan or a five-door wagon, the little WRX was a hit with enthusiasts as well as people who just wanted a little extra spice to go with their practicality. The WRX brought turbocharged fun to the masses by kicking out 227 hp from a force-fed 2.0-liter flat-four to all four wheels via an available five-speed manual and a 50/50 limited-slip center differential. That isn’t novel today, when seemingly every car comes with a turbo and all-wheel drive, but in 2002 your other choices were vanishingly limited. If people didn’t already equate Subaru with go-anywhere toughness, they did now.
Two years later, Mitsubishi brought its Lancer Evolution to the U.S., and the WRC heavyweight battle spilled into American streets. It was never a real competitor in terms of sales, but the Evo kept the WRX and its top-trim STI honest over the years as both cars evolved and continued to push the performance envelope.
The Bugeye WRX’s blistered fenders, wide-eyed headlights, and trademark hood scoop will always look a little quirky. But they will also forever mark the moment when rally-crazy enthusiasts solidified Subaru’s presence in the United States and its status as the brand to beat for affordable all-wheel-drive fun.—Eddy Eckart
The Ford Crown Victoria almost earned its place on this list if for no other reason than it being the last body-on-frame passenger car standing. The Panther chassis blueprint fostered decades of goodwill with customers, but the Crown Vic’s transition from flagship sedan to fleet-only vehicle in 2008 sealed its place in history. Both the Crown Vic and its Police Interceptor (CVPI) brother were now on a pedestal, no longer associated with “traditional buyers” seeking a seemingly antiquated body style. Its stellar record in public service instead earned it a cult following.
The low-strung 4.6-liter V-8 was never a hot rod, but it eventually produced a respectable 250 horsepower (CVPI only), with nary a blemish on its reputation as indestructible. The rest of the powertrain was similarly impressive, as was the durable frame and tough suspension. The latter was proved over billions of miles generated collectively by taxis and police cars for decades, and by 2003 the Crown Vic received refinements that turned the brash CVPIs into a poor man’s AMG Mercedes.
Though the Crown Vic ceased production in 2011, you still see CVPIs on TV, in movies, and within the fleet of your local constabulary to this day. At least I do, as my local police force has at least a dozen of them still on the books. Keeping them in service despite other, newer options seems like the highest compliment you can pay to a vehicle. And let’s not forget that the Panther platform was just as iconic for the defunct Mercury and misguided Lincoln brands. Make my Crown Vic a 2006–11 CVPI with all the optional interior accoutrements for a high-ranking official, and finish it in a unique color like Norsea Blue or Medium Brown Metallic.—Sajeev Mehta
The XW20 Toyota Prius was not the first hybrid to go on sale in America—that honor belongs to the 1999 Honda Insight, followed shortly after by the NH11 Prius sedan—but it was almost immediately the best one offered here in the United States. When it debuted in April 2003 at the New York International Auto Show, the car’s revamped design—a kammback that redistributed the mechanicals into a much smarter layout that boosted rear legroom and cargo capacity—showed that Toyota was serious about pushing this car to the mainstream.
Was it exciting to drive? Hell no. Few cars with a continuously variable transmission and a mere 76 horsepower from the 1.5-liter gas-burning engine (up a whopping six stallions from the first-gen Prius the prior year) earn that accolade.
But fun and fascinating don’t necessarily have to overlap. A period story from Car and Driver called the 2004 Prius “still a nerd’s car,” which means that highlights include an electric motor with 295 lb-ft of torque (bet that one escaped your memory), a model-first brake-by-wire system, a special container for keeping coolant hot enough to inject the cylinder head with warm antifreeze to reduce the amount of fuel needed on startup, and about 300 other little tidbits—all in the name of em-pee-gees.
At a time when some automakers were still struggling to make one source of motive power seamless, Toyota engineers succeeded in getting three distinct powertrain elements—an AC electric motor, the 1.5-liter gasser, and a 168.2-volt nickel-metal hydride battery—to play nicely with each other. All while not interrupting vitals like the air conditioning, cabin functions, and the new steer-by-wire system. To achieve that with any measure of success while returning an EPA-estimated 55 mpg combined rating deserves respect, if not outright appreciation.
The second-gen Prius makes our list because of what it did for the hybrid automobile’s image. Over the car’s five-year run, it almost single-handedly took the idea of a hybrid vehicle from a fringe use case at best to something that made sense for the masses.—Nathan Petroelje
When it first landed, if you weren’t the type to pay attention to such things, you would have been forgiven for being “pretty sure that’s a Lambo, dude.”
But it wasn’t a Lambo. It was a Bugatti, and not your great-grandfather’s Bugatti, either. It was the Veyron, the Urhypercar, the third coming of the storied French marque, and the most remarkable machine to hit the streets since the McLaren F1.
Following the Volkswagen Group’s 1998 purchase of the Bugatti name, development of a new benchmark car began in earnest and included a series of 18-cylinder concepts, before the firm “settled” on a 1001-horsepower quad-turbocharged 8.0-liter W-16 clothed in sleek bodywork by Hartmut Warkuss. Prototypes were up and running by 2003, and the Molsheim factory began churning out production models in 2005.
With an active rear wing, all-wheel drive, and a seven-speed dual-clutch automatic changing gears in just 150 milliseconds, the Veyron could hit 60 mph in 2.5 seconds, with an eye-watering 253 mph top speed—at which it burned through fuel at the rate of 3 mpg. And it was all yours for a cool $1.7 million.
Naturally, the motoring press and enthusiasts the world over went gaga for the car named for Pierre Veyron—Bugatti’s longtime test driver and 1939 winner of the 24 Hours of Le Mans driving a Type 57C. But the gorgeous Veyron wasn’t just ludicrously quick and fast. It was also docile, comfortable, and refined—qualities that no machine with those specs had any right to possess.
A production run of 450 Veyrons over 10 years included not just the original 16.4, but even more ludicrously quick and fast examples, like the 267-mph Super Sport and the topless Grand Sport and Grand Sport Vitesse.
It’s hard to say whether the Veyron has since been eclipsed by subsequent Bugatti hypercars like the Chiron, Divo, and Centodieci, because its credentials and its place in automotive history simply feel so unassailable. Rather, its legacy extends far beyond its statistics and illustrates how unlimited resources, engineering determination, and the desire to push boundaries could dramatically redefine what a car was capable of.—Stefan Lombard
The Ford GT was the vision of Camilo Pardo, and he did a great job upscaling the original 1964 Ford GT40 race car to become a modern road car with enough room for a leather-lined interior worthy of a contemporary Ferrari. True to the original, the Ford GT shared DNA with other Ford products, especially its 550-horsepower Modular V-8 engine with a twin-screw supercharger displayed prominently under its glass hatch. Ford built it right, utilizing Lincoln’s assembly plant to make something worthy of the Ferrari Enzo for the price of an entry-level 360 Modena.
Its inception coincided with Ford’s 100th anniversary, which justified a charming “100”-shaped easter egg in its driver’s side headlight. Simply put, there was a ton of precedent here, and it created a truly special automobile. And time has been very kind to the “retrofuturism” super Ford with a supercharged V-8.
Although the 2016–22 Ford GT is a far superior performer, with its twin-turbocharged V-6 and aerodynamics-over-DNA body, it won’t tug at the heartstrings like its predecessor. And while the first Ford GT handily bested its competition, the cheaper, more plentiful McLaren 720S was a credible threat to the V-6 iteration. Even worse, the British supercar had an exotic V-8 rumble to boot. The newer GT was designed for a dimensionally smaller engine, so it was spiritually compromised for its lack of something approachable yet exotic, like the Voodoo or Predator V-8s from Ford’s arsenal.
And that’s why the 2005–06 GT earned a spot on this list. It was a celebration for a unique moment in time, and it was a perfect expression of supercar appeal from a mass-market manufacturer. Make mine one of the rare examples without the central racing stripes, and it should have the McIntosh subwoofer between the two seats.—Sajeev Mehta
The S197 Mustang continued the tradition of Ford offering its pony customers a fantastic blend of sports-car performance with the value and practicality of a passenger car. Under the skin was a new platform, which was very loosely based on the Ford Thunderbird sold in the same showroom. It eschewed the T-Bird’s complexity and posh refinement, however, in favor of a strut front suspension and a solid rear axle with a Panhard bar for superior control over its SN95 predecessor’s axle dampers. Refinement at a price point was key, but the Mustang GT generously added another valve to every cylinder in Ford’s 4.6-liter single-overhead-cam Modular V-8 engine.
But what’s under the skin of the S197 isn’t as important as the exterior and interior design. This Mustang made our list because of the impact of Ford designer J Mays on its styling, as he applied his retrofuturist themes to take the new Mustang back to the fastback glory days of 1967. Round headlights lived behind sleek lenses, a rear emblem paid tribute to the original’s gas cap, and Ford even reintroduced 1967’s Lime Gold color with a new name: Legend Lime. The interior was even a modernized vision of 1965, with a twin-cowl design that was far more true to the original than what Ford created in 1994 with the curvaceous SN95 Mustang.
This Mustang was indeed legendary, as it inspired every Mustang after in styling and performance character. Without Pontiac around, and with the Chevrolet Camaro now fading into history, the pony car genre as we knew it has all but disappeared. The muscle-car-evoking Dodge Challenger of the 2010s posed a unique threat, yes, but today we see the Ford Mustang as a global icon that offers Americana to a growing audience. It is just as appealing in Indiana as it is in India, and tracing the roots of today’s Mustang through the 2005 model is easy. Being a global sales sensation has elevated the Mustang into new territory, and we’d argue its loyal following worldwide—not just in America—now rivals that of the Porsche 911. —Sajeev Mehta
The last (and best) normally aspirated Ferrari V-8 is a milestone that will never be toppled. Casa di Enzo was working upward toward this ultimate screamer the moment it committed to aluminum space-frame construction with the 360 Modena of 2000. A decade later, the 458 Italia arrived, benefiting from a lot of learning on the 360 and subsequent 430 models. Two stats alone, 562 horsepower and 9000 rpm, probably contributed the most to creating the years-long waiting lists that the 458 enjoyed for most of its six-year production run (horsepower climbed even higher in the later Speciales). And once the punters were finally ensconced behind the wheel, they learned that the 4.5-liter flat-plane-crank V-8 under glass, its intake plenums looking like a pair of shapely gams in red spandex, had been bolted into a sublime chassis with Bolshoi levels of balance.
In fact, it was never the horsepower or its three-seconds-to-60 performance that made the 458 the pinnacle that it was, for by 2009 there were a number of supercars that could beat it in a straight line. It was the perfect blend of power and agility that made the 458 the most fun you could have in car with a license plate—the V-8 wailing behind your shoulder blades, the deft steering placing the nose precisely where you wanted it while allowing the pull and pulses of the road to come through to your hands, the car pirouetting perfectly around its center of gravity in highly predictable and controllable states of grip. No, it didn’t come with a manual, but it did come with a new dual-clutch automatic that was so quick and seamless that it made everyone stop caring that Ferrari was out of the stick-shift game for good.
Eventually, Ferrari yielded to market pressure from McLaren as well as emissions regulators and replaced the 458 with the turbocharged 488. It was an incredibly capable successor but not nearly as fun. As we head toward the zero-carbon future, it’s possible Ferrari will never build a car as good as the 458, one of the last supercars that understood it’s not about how fast you are going but how much fun you are having.—Aaron Robinson
It arrived in America in 2008 as a 2009 model, finally! After years of gazing longingly at Japan, U.S. fans of the Nissan GT-R, recruited by the car’s role in video games and multiple action movies, were apoplectic when the R35 descendant of the legendary Skyline finally landed on these shores.
They weren’t disappointed. The 2009 GT-R was relatively large and heavy (nearly 4000 pounds) for a sports car, much heavier than the in-most-ways-comparable 2009 Chevrolet Corvette. But GT-R devotees wouldn’t look twice at a Corvette; this car catered to an entirely different market.
The Nissan is a 2+2, but the two willing to sit in the back must want to ride in the car awfully bad. No wonder: The all-wheel-drive GT-R was powered by a twin-turbo, 3.8-liter V-6 engine with 473 horsepower. By the time Nissan quit taking orders for the GT-R—which was this year, actually, in March—standard horsepower had increased to 562, or more if you were willing to ante up for a couple of special editions.
When the GT-R arrived, base price was around $77,000, which has increased to about $121,000 over the years. Drive a 2009 model back-to-back with a new one, and you’ll immediately know that you’re in a car that has certainly evolved, while remaining remarkably loyal to the one that migrated to America 17 years ago.
Inside, and on the road, the GT-R is among the most complicated-sounding cars I’ve ever driven: There are whirrs and chirps and clicks and beeps, and your immediate thought is this must be a very delicate car. That would be wrong. GT-Rs are built well, with proven technology, and they can be surprisingly reliable for a near-supercar. They are complex, though, make no mistake about that.
Those turbos report for duty very quickly, and thanks to the all-wheel drive, the launch is invigorating. Cornering is, and always has been, terrific. The GT-R was introduced to the media in 2008, at the Reno-Fernley Raceway in Nevada; I didn’t have time to get comfortable in the car there, but years later, I was lucky enough to be asked to give repeated rides in a GT-R to children at a charity event held on the Homestead-Miami Speedway road course, and that’s where the Nissan and I really became friends. Complicated, yes, but forgiving and predictable at speed: After the conservative first lap, I’d ask my passengers, “Faster? Or slower?” The answer was almost always “Faster!”
Given Nissan’s current finances, a next-generation GT-R is scarcely a certainty. That’s a shame. GT-R, we hardly knew ye.—Steven Cole Smith
I’m no Tesla fanboy. But, even begrudgingly, I must admit the massive significance of that company’s first big hit—the Model S.
The 2000s saw huge leaps in automotive technology, from efficiency and convenience to safety and performance. Even in 2025, though, most of what’s on the road still works pretty much the same way it always has: by burning the black goop we suck out of the ground in an internal-combustion piston engine. The only serious exceptions are in the growing EV segment, and despite Tesla’s numerous controversies and the, uh, antics of its CEO, the company is still the biggest name in electric cars today. That legacy is built on the shoulders of the Model S.
Tesla wasn’t the first to actually build an electric car, of course. The history of the EV goes back to the 1800s. In the early 21st century, though, EVs were anything but common. Tesla’s first product—the 2008 Lotus-based Roadster—was the first production automobile to utilize lithium-ion battery cells. The Roadster was a low-volume novelty, but the 2012 Model S took the idea of electrification mainstream. It made Tesla a household name without any paid advertising and turned it into the first all-new major American carmaker in recent memory.
Here was car that looked like a handsome luxury sedan and was priced like one, but it carried a decidedly different motive force that showed people the performance and packaging advantages of an electric powertrain, not just the environmental ones. The lack of a bulky gas engine and transmission gave it tons of extra storage space, and the placement of the batteries gave it a low center of gravity. The constant torque available from a standstill made stomping on the accelerator pedal (can’t really call it the “gas” pedal anymore) an intoxicating experience, and the Model S could accelerate more quickly than almost anything else on the road in 2012. The company’s growing charger network, meanwhile, mitigated range anxiety and allowed owners to use their cars on long trips. So, while Tesla wasn’t the first to electrify a car, it was the first to make it a feasible option for the average motorist.
This wasn’t an EV that people felt like they should drive or one they had to drive; it was one that people would want to drive. The Model S showed that an EV didn’t have to be an overgrown golf cart; it could be aspirational. In short, the Model S was the first car to make EVs cool.—Andrew Newton
If there’s ever been a modern successor to great Japanese sport coupes like the Datsun 240Z, Mazda RX-7, and Toyota AE86, it’s the Subaru BRZ. Launched for 2013 in partnership with Toyota, which sold it as the Scion FR-S (before badging it as the Toyota 86 in 2016), the two-door, stick-shifted BRZ made rear-wheel-drive performance once again accessible to the masses. Its naturally aspirated 2.0-liter flat-four engine presented compact dimensions and allowed a particularly low center of gravity, aiding handling as well as leaving room for a set of wheels and tires when the rear seats were folded down. And at just under 2800 pounds, the car’s light weight made it a delightful dance partner whether on a twisty two-lane or a winding road course.
Despite its popularity among entry-level enthusiasts, the BRZ/FR-S/86 was not fast. Its 200 hp and 151 lb-ft were middling at best, and a glaring dead spot in the middle of the rev range left drivers often waiting for torque to arrive. Raw speed was never the point, though. Who really cared when the steering was so crisp? The gearbox so notchy? The rear end so willing to step out on skinny, slidey 215-section eco tires? The pedals positioned so perfectly for heel-and-toe? These cars nailed the subtle details drivers care about.
Finally—a purpose-built sports car for the everyman, priced at right around $26,000. It was fit for back roads. Fit for daily driving, so long as you didn’t need four doors. And fit for the race track, where the only other thing capable of producing such smiles had no roof, two seats, and an MX-5 badge on the back.
Enthusiasts begged Subaru for a turbocharger, but it never came, even for the second-generation car that launched for the 2022 model year. Its larger 2.4-liter naturally aspirated flat-four solved the mid-range torque problem. Updated interior materials and infotainment technology kept it feeling fresh. But nothing can replace the excitement the car world felt when the first-gen model landed, marking the beginning of an era that witnessed BRZs, FR-Ses, and 86s flooding race tracks, autocross events, car shows, and the modified scene en masse. Even today, it occupies a niche all its own, one with analog sports car pleasure at its core.—Eric Weiner
The seventh-generation Corvette was supposed to be the first mid-engine Vette, but the 2008 financial crisis meant that GM would have to make do with the tried-and-true layout a bit longer. In retrospect, that was a blessing for bow-tie loyalists—it allowed the engineers to further optimize an already highly developed platform, and as a result the C7 stands proud as the ultimate iteration of the front-engine Corvette.
For the C7, which has its roots in the fifth-generation car, engineers prioritized making the chassis more communicative, primarily doing so via an aluminum frame (made possible by new bending technology) that lightened and stiffened the structure, along with revised suspension mounting points. This livelier Vette offered serious performance, even in the base car—its 6.2-liter LT1 came with 455 hp and could be backed by a seven-speed manual transmission. The Z51 package was a must-have for people who liked to push their Stingray, adding dry-sump oiling, more aggressive gearing, an electronic limited-slip differential, bigger brakes, and a host of suspension tweaks. Even among Corvettes, the Z51 cars offer the best performance per dollar.
Further up the range, Chevy continued the successful heavy-hitting Z06 and ZR1 performance variants that had returned under the C5 and C6, respectively, while reintroducing yet another storied trim, the Grand Sport, to the mix. These wide-body Vettes, all available as coupe or convertible, were effective track weapons, though the 650-horse Z06 and 755-hp ZR1 both began to encounter the grip limits of the front-engine chassis.
Given the array of configurations available, there’s a C7 for just about every appetite. It’s hard to argue with 650-plus horsepower, but we err toward balance, and the Z51 and the Grand Sport tick the most boxes in that regard. Regardless of trim, the C7 won’t just be remembered as the final front-engine Vette, it will also be revered for what it is: a great sports car. —Eddy Eckart
Though one might argue the 1970 AMC Gremlin was the world’s first “hot hatch,” over the years the label has become firmly affixed to Volkswagen’s Mk1 GTI, introduced in Europe for 1976. When it arrived in America in 1983, the souped-up runabout transformed how we thought about basic transportation, and with each successive generation, VW has tweaked the formula, for better and for worse.
As the culmination of nearly four decades of refinement, the Mk 7 GTI, launched in the U.S. in 2015, exemplified “the better”—a label that today begins to resemble “the best” as we continue to reflect upon it in the rearview. Though other hot hatches had certainly eclipsed its on-paper specs by that point, built on VW’s modular MQB platform, the GTI struck an exceptional, mature balance between the raw enthusiasm of early models and 21st-century creature comforts drivers had simply come to expect from all new cars. Its excellent 2.0-liter turbocharged four-cylinder engine delivered 210 horsepower to the front wheels through a nearly faultless six-speed manual or equally smooth DSG seven-speed auto, and its 258 lb-ft of torque made real-world performance effortless.
The car’s interior switches, buttons, and dials made perfect sense, and in light of the Mk 8’s well, senselessness, the Mk 7 cabin now shines even brighter. Base models included those wonderful Clark Plaid cloth seats with accent stitching, and though you could spec leather in the higher SE and Autobahn trims, why would you? A performance package added bigger brakes, dynamic chassis control, 10 more ponies, and a limited-slip differential. The ultimate spec arrived in 2017; in the GTI Sport you got the plaid seats and the available performance pack, along with a lighting package and sunroof delete.
The Mk7’s greatest achievement is its accessibility. Anyone can step into this GTI and spend all day running errands around town or all day running canyon roads outside of town, and the ease with which it does both is its secret sauce. Such versatility, combined with its excellent engineering, makes the Mk7 the segment’s most complete package—a true driver’s car that is, first and foremost, just a great car. —Stefan Lombard
On this list of 25 cars that mattered in the past 25 years, you’ll find the redesigned 2004 Toyota Prius, and appropriately so: It was reasonably roomy, easy on the eyes, had an acceptable combined horsepower of 110, got incredible mileage, and didn’t cost a lot. As expected, that model of Prius has proven to be enormously reliable.
Which some of us who reviewed cars back in 2004 saw as the beginning of the end. As predicted by multiple experts who likely weren’t enthusiasts, gasoline would get more expensive, conservation and pollution regulations—as well as public opinion—would get more harsh and uncompromising, and before long, we’d all be driving a Prius, or some suitable copy.
V-8s? Forget ’em. V-10s? Are you making a joke?
So when word came that Dodge would be selling 2015 Charger and Challenger Hellcats, we had to check the calendar: Was it April 1st?
But there they were, Hellcats, with a 707-horsepower, supercharged 6.2-liter Hemi V-8 and a necessarily beefed-up eight-speed automatic transmission. The suspension gave a taut but seldom punishing ride, and there were plump rear tires that, when requested, could produce a large cloud of smoke.
The Challenger Hellcat was a piece of work, but the even more unexpected Charger Hellcat offered four doors, copious room in the rear seat, 16.5 cubic feet of trunk space, and a rather modest appearance that could win a lot of street races if your competition didn’t notice the smallish badge behind the front tire resembling some sort of angry cat, even though the Oxford dictionary defines “hellcat” as “a violent, spiteful woman,” or possibly a wife who just learned her husband spent $65,000 on a family car that could cover the quarter-mile in 11 seconds.
Just as you hoped it might be, the Charger Hellcat was stunningly docile in town, upbeat even when asked to poke along in rush-hour traffic. Yes, in-town fuel mileage was EPA-rated at a miserable 13 mpg, premium preferred; but pain at the pump, and likely when you got your insurance bill, seemed like a small-to-moderate price to pay for what was available when you pressed that accelerator down a couple of inches.—Steven Cole Smith
After 20 years of lusting after the world’s hottest Hondas from afar, our prayers were answered. The Civic Type R finally came to America for the 2017 model year as the FK8-generation hatchback. On these shores, our only prior exposure to Honda’s no-holds-barred Type R performance badge (other than through Gran Turismo) was the Acura Integra Type R—one of the most beloved front-drivers and high-revving four-cylinders of all time.
Of course, it wasn’t sheer novelty that made the Civic Type R so compelling. Underneath the boy-racer styling cues—huge rear wing, plethora of vents and scoops, fat fenders, etc.—lurked a sophisticated and track-capable machine that made the base Civic seem downright adorable. The interior was a sea of red, with generously bolstered front buckets that hugged your love handles but never became irksome on long road trips.
The 2.0-liter, turbocharged inline-four churned out 306 hp and 295 lb-ft of torque. And while all-wheel drive competitors like the VW Golf R, Subaru WRX STI, and Ford Focus RS managed similar muscle, only the Civic sent it all to the front axle. Normally this would mean a mess of torque steer, but Honda implemented its own version of GM’s HiPer Strut and Ford’s RevoKnuckle—a “dual-axis” front strut that allowed for independent steering and suspension functionality. The result was smooth sailing, even with your foot to the floor and the turbo huffing and hissing like an emphysemic python. Honda’s six-speed gearbox was picture perfect in the FK8 Type R, with notchy, short throws and a pleasant heft thanks to a weighted aluminum shift knob. To say this was the best row-your-own in its class would be a severe understatement.
Right out of the gate, it was clear the FK8 Type R was a capable track weapon. It shattered the existing Nürburgring Nordschleife front-wheel-drive lap record six months after the VW Golf GTI Clubsport S set it; Honda’s time was 7:43.80, besting the Vee-Dub by 3.39 seconds. For reference, a 996-generation Porsche 911 GT3 RS—with racing legend Walter Rörhl driving—laid down a lap of 7:43.
The subsequent (current) Civic Type R evolved the FK8 in a few ways—more palatable styling, smaller wheels, more polished ride, and a more robust cooling system for track performance. But no Honda fan in North America will ever forget they saw that 2017 Civic Type R, looking like it four-wheel-slid straight out of a manga panel and onto our streets. Yes, the Integra Type R was more raw and extreme, but the FK8 Civic wrapped similarly world-beating performance into a daily-drivable package. No small feat. —Eric Weiner
On July 19, 2019, it finally debuted: the mid-engine Corvette. The wait was all the more torturous because we’d known for a while that Chevy had seriously considered moving the engine from the front to the middle, and multiple times. Zora Arkus-Duntov, the Corvette’s godfather, realized the advantages of a mid-mounted powerplant as early as 1957, and he advanced several concepts between ’62 and ’73. But not until Tadge Juechter, who became executive chief engineer in 2006, would the Corvette gain the advocate who would bring Zora’s dream to market.
The entry-level model debuted first. The C8 Stingray isn’t wildly more powerful than the equivalent C7, but it doesn’t need to be. Thanks to a 40/60 weight distribution and larger contact patch, the 2020 Corvette can sprint from 0 to 60 mph a full second faster than its predecessor. That’s not to downplay the engine, because the LT2 is one impressive small-block V-8. Paired with the freer-breathing exhaust from the Z51 package, it makes 495 hp from 6.2 liters, without overhead cams, multi-valve combustion chambers, or forced induction. In addition to its radical packaging, the C8 also brought two big changes to the Corvette lineup: standard dry-sump lubrication and a single transmission choice, in the form of an eight-speed dual-clutch automatic by Tremec.
The other members of the family continued to break new ground: The 670-hp, track-attack Z06 is the first Corvette to use a flat-plane crankshaft. Its redline skyrocketed from 6500 to 8600 rpm. The E-Ray is the first hybrid Corvette. Thanks to that electrically driven front axle, the high-tech grand tourer was also the first production example to have four driven wheels. The twin-turbo ZR1 broke the 1000-hp threshold, and, by adding to that driveline an upgraded version of the E-Ray’s front electric drive unit, Chevrolet gave us the ZR1X. Together, the motor and the engine produce 1250 hp. Chevy calls the ZR1X the “true American hypercar.” We call it the Zora.
America’s sports car has never been more luxurious or more powerful. The C8 is a new kind of Corvette for a new kind of buyer—one that is younger, more diverse, and more affluent than generations before. That’s further proof that the Corvette needed to change not only to improve, as Zora Arkus-Duntov argued to no avail, but to survive.—Grace Jarvis
“Frankly, these were the first cars, I’ll say it out loud, that we didn’t really focus as much on lap time,” says Tony Roma, current chief engineer at Corvette, of the CT4-V and CT5-V Blackwing duo. “We said, look, we’re gonna focus more on the elements that make these cars we want to own, cars we want to drive. Cars with a certain character.”
Roma and his team nailed their directive. The pinnacle of GM’s Alpha platform (which debuted in 2013 with the ATS), the Cadillac CT5-V Blackwing is the culmination of a 20-year battle to wrest the sport-sedan crown from the Germans, executed in the form of a gloriously handling and defiantly brash American joy machine.
The CT5-V Blackwing succeeds because it’s true to what made GM great for the last 70 years, while also delivering on what the company took great pains to excel at in the last 25. In the case of the former, we’re talking about V-8 engines, this one a 668-horse supercharged 6.2-liter LT4. And the latter? Chassis tuning. The potent cocktail of Alpha platform architecture is mixed beautifully with the latest iteration of GM-developed ingredients: MagneRide dampers, an electronic limited-slip differential, and the ultra-capable performance traction management stability control system.
Reviews of the 5-V Blackwing are so universally effusive specifically because it isn’t a numbers tool; where German sedans moved on from driving fun to chase the ever-moving goalposts of more-more-more, the team at Caddy used their tech tricks to widen smiles and turn every stoplight and winding road into an event. Big cars have never been this fun. There are faster sedans, there are more futuristic and tech-laden sedans, but in 50 years, the 5-V Blackwing will stand as the last, best, ICE-powered sport sedan.
How would I spec mine? Because of their constant iteration, the newest performance Caddy is typically best. I’ll take my 2025 5-V Blackwing with the Precision Package and a six-speed manual in Radiant Red. That said, as the owner of a 2017 ATS-V, and having had seat time in Camaros and both Blackwings, any Alpha-chassis car is engaging and worthy of your attention.—Eddy Eckart
How many thousands of times have we heard “Miata Is Always the Answer”? Well, with a motto like that, there was always going to be an MX-5 on this list. But which one?
Of the four generations (so far) of Miata, three have been built in the 2000s. We had a very hard time picking the most unforgettable one, then, because every Miata has its pluses and minuses. The NB (1999–2005) is truer in concept to the groundbreaking original but in many ways was just a warmed-over version of its predecessor. The NC (2006–15) was the first all-new Miata, and it modernized the model for a wider audience, but it’s the least beloved generation and often derided by Miata fans as a “boat.” The ND (2016–present) is objectively probably the best and keeps the classic roadster concept alive, even as many others have come and gone, but there isn’t anything revolutionary about it, and Mazda only paints it in boring colors.
The only real consensus we could reach is that A) we love all Miatas equally, but for different reasons, and B) if, gun-to-head, we had to pick a favorite, we’d probably say “the next one.”
Since the original Miata in the 1990s, and with each generation since, the world has gotten a truly cheap, reasonably practical, endlessly fun convertible sports car with huge aftermarket support and an enthusiastic fanbase that has a good sense of humor and near-zero levels of snobbery. There haven’t been many cars like that, and there haven’t been any that have lasted this long. As vehicles get bigger, more expensive, more computerized, and more serious, here’s a car that still prioritizes fun over everything else. So, every time Mazda gives it an update, we love the Miata—and the fact that it still exists—a little bit more. Good thing there’s another generation (NE) on the way.—Andrew Newton
The color palette really is the ND’s biggest weakness. It’d be nice if Mazda only offered them in colors commonly found on Skittles.
My 2008 Stang GT says thanks. Where’s the 00-05 SHO with manual???
The C5 was the Corvette that saved the Corvette. Anyone who has not read All Corvettes are Red need to find a copy. Even if you are not a Corvette fan it is a wild story or poor management and winning designers and engineers. The C5 was a car that benefitted by management not being involved.
The 4 Corvettes that really changed the car was the First model. Had to start someplace. The C2, the C5, then the C8.
The C7 was just buying time and to be honest they complicated the car more than help it. The C6 Grand Sport is still the best Corvette for street and track. The C7 power is so restricted to keep the car on the track why have it. Even the engineers for Corvette love the C8 GS.
A few cars on the list are a bit older than 2000.
The most under rated is any V series Cadillac. These are great cars and just never got the marketing they deserved.
The Mini is an example of survival. The WRX is an example of a new way to performance.
The BRX is how you mess up on lack of power. The S2000 is a car that while it revs it would be nice to have a wider power band.
The GTI Like the Miata were legends before 2000
The Bug created the Hyper car.
The GT was cool but what if Ford had built it to compete with the C8? Hmmm
The Mustang is tradition but not much new ground. Even the GTD is it really a Mustang or even a Ford since they don’t even build it.
BMW needs to change but the culture in Germany hurts them from making bold statements anymore. Green party and limited speeds on the AB.
The 911 should be the GT3RS. That is a statement. The strongest since the last air cooled car. The street 911 is just a large street car anymore and lost the light toss able simple car it used to be. The GT3 is large but it is lighter.
The 2004-18 Bentley Continental GT and GTC would be on my list, The Bentleyest? They put Bentley back in business,as VW invested many millions to make them world-beating luxury sports cars.
That’s a good one, Bob!
Also had 2005 CTS-V new and agree with your assessment Mr Hyper–when the V ran! I had a two year lease and the car was laid up for issues from the diff granulating to electronic gremlins that could have came from the Prince of Darkness. So the year of actual driving was great. Wonderful chassis and drivetrain. And had just moved to the sticks in the rolling hills of Western WI where I could enjoy it all. Just wasn’t fully baked…
People always have some derisive comment about Mazda’s little 2-seater, but they must be doing something right… been around for 35 years, and still going, getting ready for a 5th generation. Name another 2-seat open roadster from the last 60 years that can say that.