The Leaf SV+ adds bigger wheels and a better infotainment system, and it can be fitted with an optional battery heater for those in cold climates. This trim will cost $34,230, which will make it almost $2,000 cheaper than the model-year 2025 Leaf SV+ despite the fact that the MY26 car has a range of 288 miles (463 km) versus just 212 miles (342 km) for the outgoing model.
The top trim is the Platinum+, which has an identical powertrain to the S+ and SV+, but with much more standard equipment. This version will start at $38,990.
Finally, there will be an even cheaper Leaf than the S+, called the S. We’re unlikely to see the Leaf S here until next year at the earliest, and it will use a smaller 52 kWh battery pack than the S+/SV+/Platinum+. In June, we wrote that “the closer the S trim starts to $30,000, the better,” despite the problems that tariffs will cause for this made-in-Japan EV. Now, it looks likely that the entry-level Leaf will undercut that target by some margin.
“The Acura RSX has a sporty coupe style that expresses the performance that comes from excellent aerodynamics,” said Yasutake Tsuchida, Acura creative director and vice president of American Honda R&D. “Starting from this all-new RSX, we will redefine the Acura brand around timeless beauty and a high-tech feel that is essential for a performance and unique brand.”
I have to admit, when I saw a teaser shot a week or two ago, my first thought was that it looked like someone had taken a McLaren Artura and given it the Urus treatment, at least based on the nose. But Acura has also been using an arrow-like prow for some time, too. I’m also getting some Lotus Eletre from the other views, but as ever, looks are subjective.
When the RSX hits the street in the second half of next year, it will do so running ASIMO OS, the new software-defined vehicle operating system that Honda announced at CES earlier this year. Among the things ASIMO OS can do is learn a driver’s preferences and driving style “to deliver an ultra-personal in-car experience,” Acura says.
An electric turbocharger means almost instant throttle response from the T-Hybrid.
Porsche developed a new T-Hybrid system for the 911, and it did a heck of a job. Credit: Jonathan Gitlin
Porsche developed a new T-Hybrid system for the 911, and it did a heck of a job. Credit: Jonathan Gitlin
Porsche 911 enthusiasts tend to be obsessive about their engines. Some won’t touch anything that isn’t air-cooled, convinced that everything went wrong when emissions and efficiency finally forced radiators into the car. Others love the “Mezger” engines; designed by engineer Hans Mezger, they trace their roots to the 1998 Le Mans-winning car, and no Porschephile can resist the added shine of a motorsports halo.
I’m quite sure none of them will feel the same way about the powertrain in the new 911 Carrera GTS T-Hybrid (MSRP: $175,900), and I think that’s a crying shame. Because not only is the car’s technology rather cutting-edge—you won’t find this stuff outside an F1 car—but having spent several days behind the wheel, I can report it might just be one of the best-driving, too.
T-Hybrid
This is not just one of Porsche’s existing flat-six engines with an electric motor bolted on; it’s an all-new 3.6 L engine designed to comply with new European legislation that no longer lets automakers rich out a fuel mixture under high load to improve engine cooling. Instead, the engine has to maintain the same 14.7:1 stoichiometric air-to-fuel ratio (also known as lambda = 1) across the entire operating range, thus allowing the car’s catalytic converters to work most efficiently.
The 911 Carrera GTS T-Hybrid at dawn patrol. Jonathan Gitlin
Because the car uses a hybrid powertrain, Porsche moved some of the ancillaries. There’s no belt drive; the 400 V hybrid system powers the air conditioning electrically now via its 1.9 kWh lithium-ion battery, and the water pump is integrated into the engine block. That rearrangement means the horizontally opposed engine is now 4.3 inches (110 mm) lower than it was before, which meant Porsche could use that extra space in the engine bay to fit the power electronics, like the car’s pulse inverters and DC-DC converters.
And instead of tappets, Porsche has switched to using roller cam followers to control the engine’s valves, as in motorsport. These solid cam followers don’t need manual adjustment at service time, and they reduce friction losses compared to bucket tappets.
The added displacement—0.6 L larger than the engine you’ll find in the regular 911—is to compensate for not being able to alter the fuel ratio. And for the first time in several decades, there’s now only a single turbocharger. Normally, a larger-capacity engine and a single big turbo should be a recipe for plenty of lag, versus a smaller displacement and a turbocharger for each cylinder bank, as the former has larger components with more mass that needs to be moved.
The GTS engine grows in capacity by 20 percent. Porsche
That’s where one of the two electric motors comes in. This one is found between the compressor and the turbine wheel, and it’s only capable of 15 hp (11 kW), but it uses that to spin the turbine up to 120,000 rpm, hitting peak boost in 0.8 seconds. For comparison, the twin turbos you find in the current 3.0 L 911s take three times as long. Since the turbine is electrically controlled and the electric motor can regulate boost pressure, there’s no need for a wastegate.
The electrically powered turbocharger is essentially the same as the MGU-H used in Formula 1, as it can drive the turbine and also regenerate energy to the car’s traction battery. (The mighty 919 Hybrid race car, which took Porsche to three Le Mans wins last decade, was able to capture waste energy from its turbocharger, but unlike the 911 GTS or an F1 car, it didn’t use that same motor to spin the turbo up to speed.)
On its own, the turbocharged engine generates 478 hp (357 kW) and 420 lb-ft (570 Nm). However, there’s another electric motor, this one a permanent synchronous motor built into the eight-speed dual-clutch (PDK) transmission casing. This traction motor provides up to 53 hp (40 kW) and 110 lb-ft (150 Nm) of torque to the wheels, supplementing the internal combustion engine when needed. The total power and torque output are 532 hp (397 kW) and 449 lb-ft (609 Nm).
No Porsches were harmed during the making of this review, but one did get a little dusty. Credit: Jonathan Gitlin
Now that’s what I call throttle response
Conceptually, the T-Hybrid in the 911 GTS is quite different from the E-Hybrid system we’ve tested in various plug-in Porsches. Those allow for purely electric driving thanks to a clutch between transmission and electric traction motor—that’s not present in the T-Hybrid, where weight saving, performance, and emissions compliance were the goal rather than an increase in fuel efficiency.
Regardless of the intent, Porsche’s engineers have created a 911 with the best throttle response of any of them. Yes, even better than the naturally aspirated GT3, with its engine packed full of motorsports mods.
I realize this is a bold claim. But I’ve been saying for a while now that I prefer driving the all-electric Taycan to the 911 because the immediacy of an electric motor beats even the silkiest internal combustion engine in terms of that first few millimeters of throttle travel. The 3.0 L twin-turbo flat-six in most 911s doesn’t suffer from throttle lag like it might have in the 1980s, but there’s still an appreciable delay between initial tip-in and everything coming on song.
Initially, I suspected that the electric motor in the PDK case was responsible for the instantaneous way the GTS responds from idle, but according to Porsche’s engineers, all credit for that belongs to the electric turbocharger. However the engineers did it, this is a car that still provides 911 drivers the things they like about internal combustion engines—the sound, the fast refueling, using gears—but with the snappiness of a fast Taycan or Macan.
Centerlock wheels are rather special. Credit: Jonathan Gitlin
Porsche currently makes about 10 different 911 coupe variants, from the base 911 Carrera to the 911 GT3 RS. The GTS (also available with all-wheel drive as a Carrera 4 GTS for an extra $8,100) is marginally less powerful and slightly slower than the current 911 Turbo, and it’s heavier but more powerful than the 911 GT3.
In the past, I’ve thought of GTS-badged Porsches as that company’s take on the ultimate daily driver as opposed to a track day special, and it’s telling that you can also order the GTS with added sunshine, either as a cabriolet (in rear- or all-wheel drive) or as a Targa (with all-wheel drive). You have to remember to tick the box for rear seats now, though—these are a no-cost option rather than being fitted as standard.
The T-Hybrid powertrain adds 103 lbs compared to the previous GTS, so it’s not a lightweight track-day model, even if the non-hybrid GTS was almost nine seconds slower around the Nürburgring. On track, driven back to back with some of the others, you might be able to notice the extra weight, but I doubt it. I didn’t take the GTS on track, but I drove it to one; a trip to Germany to see the Nürburgring 24 race with some friends presented an opportunity to test this and another Porsche that hadn’t made their way to the East Coast press fleet yet.
I’d probably pick that Panamera if most of my driving was on the autobahn. With a top speed of 194 mph (312 km/h) the 911 GTS is capable of holding its own on the derestricted stretches even if its Vmax is a few miles per hour slower than the four-door sedan. But the 911 is a smaller, lighter, and more nimble car that moves around a bit more, and you sit a lot lower to the ground, amplifying the sensation of speed. The combined effect was that the car felt happier with a slightly lower cruising speed of 180 km/h rather than 200 km/h or more in the Panamera. Zero-62 mph (100 km/h) times don’t mean much outside the tollbooth but should take 2.9 seconds with launch control.
Despite the nondescript gray paint, the GTS T-Hybrid still turned plenty of heads. Credit: Jonathan Gitlin
Keep going
For the rest of the time, the 911 GTS evoked far more driving pleasure. Rear-wheel steering aids agility at lower speeds, and there are stiffer springs, newly tuned dampers, and electrohydraulic anti-roll bars (powered by the hybrid’s high-voltage system). Our test car was fitted with the gigantic (420 mm front, 410 mm rear) carbon ceramic brakes, and at the rear, the center lock wheels are 11.5 inches in width.
In the dry, I never got close to finding the front tires’ grip limit. The rear-wheel steering is noticeable, particularly when turning out of junctions, but never to the degree where you start thinking about correcting a slide unless you provoke the tires into breaking traction with the throttle. Even on the smooth tarmac preferred by German municipalities, the steering communicated road conditions from the tires, and the Alcantara-wrapped steering wheel is wonderful to grip in your palms.
So it’s predictably great to drive on mountain roads in Sport or Sport+. However, the instant throttle response means it’s also a better drive in Normal at 30 km/h as you amble your way through a village than the old GTS or any of the 3.0 L cars. That proved handy after Apple Maps sent me down a long dirt road on the way to my rental house, as well as for navigating the Nürburgring campsite, although I think I now appreciate why Porsche made the 911 Dakar (and regret declining that first drive a few years ago).
Happily, my time with the 911 GTS didn’t reveal any software bugs, and I prefer the new, entirely digital main instrument display to the old car’s analog tachometer sandwiched between two multifunction displays. Apple CarPlay worked well enough, and the compact cabin means that ergonomics are good even for those of us with shorter arms. There is a standard suite of advanced driver assistance systems, including traffic sign detection (which handily alerts you when the speed limit changes) and collision warning. Our test car included the optional InnoDrive system that adds adaptive cruise control, as well as a night vision system. On the whole, the ADAS was helpful, although if you don’t remember to disable the lane keep assist at the start of each journey, you might find it intruding mid-corner, should the car think you picked a bad line.
My only real gripe with the 911 GTS T-Hybrid is the fact that, with some options, you’re unlikely to get much change from $200,000. Yes, I know inflation is a thing, and yes, I know that’s still 15 percent less than the starting price of a 911 GT3 Touring, which isn’t really much of a step up from this car in terms of the driving experience on the road. However, a 911 Carrera T costs over $40,000 less than the T-Hybrid, and while it’s slower and less powerful, it’s still available with a six-speed manual. That any of those three would make an excellent daily driver 911 is a credit to Porsche, but I think if I had the means, the sophistication of the T-Hybrid system and its scalpel-sharp responsiveness might just win the day.
Jonathan is the Automotive Editor at Ars Technica. He has a BSc and PhD in Pharmacology. In 2014 he decided to indulge his lifelong passion for the car by leaving the National Human Genome Research Institute and launching Ars Technica’s automotive coverage. He lives in Washington, DC.
Booker, Clarke, and Parker drove an impressive distance on a single charge, but “longest EV drive on a single charge” is a slightly more nebulous thing. In this case, the Polestar 3 was entirely standard, on stock tires. But if you’re prepared to start tweaking stuff around, longer drives are possible.
Last week, Chevrolet revealed that it took one of its Silverado WT trucks—with a gargantuan 205 kWh battery—and then fitted it with worn-down, massively over-inflated tires and drove it around the Detroit area for 1,059 miles (1,704 km). That required a team of 40 drivers, and like the Polestar 3, the average speed was below 25 mph (40 km/h).
Squeezing 4.9 miles/kWh (12.7 kWh/100 km) out of something the size and shape of a full-size pickup is probably more impressive than getting slightly more out of an SUV, but we should note that the Silverado drivers kept the air conditioning turned off until the final 59 miles.
And in July, Lucid announced that it, too, had set a new world record for the longest drive on a single charge. In its case, it took a Lucid Air Grand Touring from St. Moritz in Switzerland to Munich in Germany, covering 749 miles (1,205 km) on a single charge. That’s significantly farther than the Polestar, and the Lucid drivers achieved more than 6 miles/kWh (10.4 kWh/100 km), but the route also involved going mostly downhill.
An orange tint of smoke in the air always contributes to dramatic lighting for sunrise photos in Los Angeles. But this early in the fire season, the coloring serves as an inescapable reminder of greenhouse gas emissions and the mobility solutions that might reduce or at least slightly mitigate the future of radical weather crises. It’s fitting, then, that a massive 75,000-acre fire burns in Santa Maria, in addition to a small brush fire on the 110 freeway less than a mile away as I visit the Elysian Park Helipad overlooking Dodger Stadium to check out Mercedes-Benz’s new Vision V concept van ahead of its American debut at Monterey Car Week.
The Vision V certainly looks like a concept car, with futuristic and swooping lines that somehow manage to make an otherwise utilitarian van shape at least somewhat stylish. Over 800 tiny light louvers spread across the grille and headlight bar at the front and the taillights at the rear, where a microscopic spoiler matches a chrome lower diffuser.
As usual with these design exercises, the Vision V sports huge wheels and low-profile tires, but a Benz rep on hand claimed that the final production design will strongly resemble this concept form. On a wheelbase of 139 inches (3,530 mm), the van measures 18 feet long by 82.7 inches wide and 74.5 inches tall (5,486×2,100×1,892 mm). Most of those dimensions will change by only fractions of inches, other than the height, which will grow about 3–4 inches taller (76–101 mm).
Expect the production Mercedes van to look quite a lot like this. Michael Teo Van Runkle
Still, expect short overhangs and big wheels, even if not quite the size of these absurdly chrome 24-inchers. Mercedes also confirmed vague powertrain details, including front-wheel drive and 4Matic variants—presumably single and dual-motor, though my question about a tri- or quad-motor à la the electric G-Wagen received a firm “no comment” in response. Similarly, no word on battery capacity other than a range target of 300 miles.
The Radster is great as a Class 2 e-bike, but not quite as strong as a Class 3.
With e-bike manufacturing in China having expanded considerably, the number of companies offering affordable e-bikes over the last five years has exploded. But the market for cycles with an electric assist has existed for considerably longer, and a number of companies predate the recent surge. One of them, Rad Power, has been around long enough that it was already an established presence when we first reviewed its hardware four years ago.
The company offers a mix of cargo, folding, and commuter bikes, all with electric assists. Having looked at a cargo version last time around, we decided to try out one of the commuter bikes this time. The Radster comes in road and trail versions (we tried the road). It’s an incredibly solidly made bike with equally solid components, and it has very good implementations of a few things that other manufacturers haven’t handled all that well. It also can switch among the three classes of e-bikes using a menu option; unfortunately, nothing else about the bike’s performance seems to change with the switch.
The Radster is priced a bit higher than a lot of its budget competitors. So, if you’re shopping, you’ll have to think a bit about whether some of these features matter to you.
A solid option
One thing that is very clear early: The Radster is a very solid bike with a robust frame. While the frame is step-through, it has some added bracing just above the cranks. These two bars, one on each side of the frame, link the down tube to the seat tube and extend to form part of the rear triangle. While this means you’ll have to step a bit higher to get in a position to mount the bike, they contribute to the sense that this is a frame that will withstand years of daily use.
Another nice feature: The battery is mounted on top of the frame, so if you release it for charging elsewhere, you don’t have to do anything special to keep it from dropping onto the floor. A chain guard and fenders also come standard, something that’s a big plus for commuters. And the fork has adjustable cushioning to smooth out some of the bumps.
The front fork comes with a bump-smoothing suspension. John Timmer
The one complaint I have is a common one for me: sizing. I’m just short of 190 cm tall (about 6 feet, 2 inches), and a lot of my height is in my legs (I typically go for 35/36-inch inseams). I’ve found that most of the frames rated as “large” still feel a bit short for me. The Radster was no exception, despite being rated for people up to 5 centimeters (2 inches) taller than I am. It was very close to being comfortable but still forced me to raise my thighs above horizontal while pedaling, even with the seat at its maximum height. The geometry of the seat-to-handlebar distance was fine, though.
Also in the “solidly built” category: the rack and kickstand. The rack is rated for 25 kg (55 lbs), so it should be capable of handling a fair amount of errand running. Rad Power will sell you a large cage-style basket to fit there, and there’s everything you need to attach a front basket as well. So, while the Radster is not designated as a cargo bike, it’s flexible enough and well constructed that I wouldn’t hesitate to use it as one.
The Radster doesn’t have internal cable routing, but placing the battery on top of the down tube gave its designers an unusual option. There’s a channel that runs down the bottom of the down tube that the cables sit in, held in place by a plastic cover that’s screwed onto the frame. Should you ever need to do maintenance that involves replacing one of the cables or the hydraulic tubes, it should be a simple matter of removing the cover.
Nice electronics
The basics of the drive system are pretty typical for bikes like this. There’s a Shimano Altus derailleur controlled by a dual-trigger shifter, with a decent spread of eight gears in back. Tektro hydraulic brakes bring things to a stop effectively.
The basic electronics are similarly what you’d expect to see. It’s powered with a 720-watt-hour battery, which Rad Power estimates will get you to over 100 km (65 miles) of range at low assist settings. It’s paired with a rear hub motor rated for 750 watts and 100 Nm of torque, which is more than enough to get even a heavy bike moving quickly. It also features a throttle that will take you to 32 km/hr (20 mph). The electric motor is delightfully quiet most of the time, so you can ride free of any whine unless you’re pushing the speed.
All of the electric components are UL-certified, so you can charge it with minimal worries about the sorts of battery fires that have plagued some no-name e-bike brands.
The electronics are also where you’ll find some of Rad Power’s better features. One of these is the rear light, which also acts as a brake light and includes directionals for signaling turns. The brake light is a nice touch on a commuter bike like this, and Rad Power’s directionals actually work effectively. On the bikes we’ve tried in the past, the directionals were triggered by a small three-way toggle switch, which made it impossible to tell if you left them on, or even which direction you might have left them signaling. And that’s a major problem for anyone who’s not used to having turn signals on their bike (meaning almost everyone).
Rad Power’s system uses large, orange arrows on the display to tell you when the directionals are on, and which direction is being signaled. It takes a little while to get used to shutting them off, since you do so by hitting the same switch that activated them—hitting the opposite switch simply activates the opposite turn light. But the display at least makes it easy to tell when you’ve done something wrong.
In general, the display is also bright, easy to read, and displays everything you’d expect it to. It also comes paired with enough buttons to make navigating among settings simple, but not so many that you’re unsure of what button to use in any given context.
One last positive about the electronics: there is a torque sensor, which helps set the assist based on how much force you’re exerting on the cranks, rather than simply determining whether the cranks are turning. While these tend to be a bit more expensive, they provide an assist that’s much better integrated into the cycling you’re doing, which helps with getting started on hills where it might be difficult to get the pedals turning enough to register with a cadence sensor.
On the road
All the stats in the world can’t tell you what it’s going to be like to ride an e-bike, because software plays a critical role. The software can be set up to sacrifice range and battery life to give you effortless pedaling, or it can integrate in a way that simply makes it feel like your leg muscles are more effective than they have any right to be.
The Radster’s software allows it to be switched between a Class 2 and Class 3 assist. Class 2 is intended to have the assist cut out once the bike hits 32 km/hr (20 mph). With a Class 3, that limit rises to 45 km/hour (28 mph). Different states allow different classes, and Rad Power lets you switch between them using on-screen controls, which quite sensibly avoids having to make different models for different states.
As a Class 2, the Radster feels like a very well-rounded e-bike. At the low-assist settings, it’ll make you work to get it up to speed; you’ll bike faster but will still be getting a fair bit of exercise, especially on the hills. And at these settings, it would require a fair amount of effort to get to the point where the speed limit would cause the motor to cut out. Boost the settings to the maximum of the five levels of assist, and you only have to put in minimal effort to get to that limit. You’ll end up going a bit slower than suburban traffic, which can be less than ideal for some commutes, but you’ll get a lot of range in return.
Things are a bit different when the Radster is switched into Class 3 mode. Here, while pedaling with a roughly equal amount of force on flat ground, each level of assist would bring you to a different maximum speed. On setting one, that speed would end up being a bit above 20 km/hour (13 mph)—it was possible to go faster, but it took some work given the heavy frame. By the middle of the assist range, the same amount of effort would get the bike in the neighborhood of 30 kilometers an hour (20 mph). But even with the assist maxed out, it was very difficult to reach the legal 45 km/hour limit (28 mph) for a Class 3 on flat ground—the assist and gearing couldn’t overcome the weight of the bike, even for a regular cyclist like myself.
In the end, I felt the Radster’s electronics and drivetrain provided a more seamless cycling experience in Class 2 mode.
That may be perfectly fine for the sort of biking you’re looking to do. At the same time, if your point in buying a Class 3-capable bike is to be riding it at its maximum assist speed without it feeling like an exercise challenge, then the Rad Power might not be the bike for you. (You may interpret that desire as “I want to be lazy,” but there are a lot of commutes where being able to match the prevailing speed of car traffic would be considerably safer and getting sweaty during the commute is non-ideal.)
The other notable thing about the Radster is its price, which is in the neighborhood of $2,000 ($1,999, to be precise). That places it above city bikes from a variety of competitors, including big-name brands like Trek. And it’s far above the price of some of the recent budget entries in this segment. The case for the Radster is that it has a number of things those others may lack—brake lights and directions, a heavy-duty rack, Class 3 capabilities—and some of those features are also very well implemented. Furthermore, not one component on it made me think: “They went with cheap hardware to meet a price point.” But, given the resulting price, you’ll have to do some careful comparison shopping to determine whether these are things that make a difference for you.
The good
Solidly built frame with a top-mounted battery.
Easy switching between Class 2 and Class 3 lets you match local laws anywhere in the US.
Great info screen and intuitive controls, including the first useful turn signals I’ve tried.
Didn’t cheap out on any components.
The bad
It’s hard to take full advantage of its Class 3 abilities.
Even the large frame won’t be great for taller riders.
Price means you’ll want to do some comparison shopping.
The ugly
Even the worst aspects fall more under “disappointing” than “ugly.”
John is Ars Technica’s science editor. He has a Bachelor of Arts in Biochemistry from Columbia University, and a Ph.D. in Molecular and Cell Biology from the University of California, Berkeley. When physically separated from his keyboard, he tends to seek out a bicycle, or a scenic location for communing with his hiking boots.
Ford will debut a new midsize pickup truck in 2027 with a targeted price of $30,000, the automaker announced today. The as-yet unnamed pickup will be the first of a series of more affordable EVs from Ford, built using a newly designed flexible vehicle platform and US-made prismatic lithium iron phosphate batteries.
For the past few years, a team of Ford employees have been hard at work on the far side of the country from the Blue Oval’s base in Dearborn, Michigan. Sequestered in Long Beach and taking inspiration from Lockheed’s legendary “skunkworks,” the Electric Vehicle Development Center approached designing and building Ford’s next family of EVs as a clean-sheet problem, presumably taking inspiration from the Chinese EVs that have so impressed Ford’s CEO.
It starts with a pickup
Designing an EV from the ground up, free of decades of legacy cruft, is a good idea, but not one unique to Ford. In recent months we’ve reviewed quite a few so-called software-defined vehicles, which replace dozens or even hundreds of discrete single-function electronic control units with a handful of powerful modern computers (usually known as domain controllers) on a high-speed network.
“This isn’t a stripped‑down, old‑school vehicle,” said Doug Field, Ford’s chief EV, digital, and design officer, pointedly comparing the future Ford to the recently revealed barebones EV from Slate Motors.
An animation of Ford’s new vehicle architecture.
Starting from scratch like this is allowing vehicle dynamics engineers to get creative with the way EVs handle. Field said that the company “applied first‑principles engineering, pushing to the limits of physics to make it fun to drive and compete on affordability. Our new zonal electric architecture unlocks capabilities the industry has never seen.”
The Ford Motor Company is adjusting its electric vehicle strategy. The automaker will prioritize smaller and more affordable EVs ahead of the replacement for the F-150 Lightning fullsize pickup truck and e-Transit van. The Lightning replacement, codenamed T3, should now appear later in 2027, with the van a year behind.
Here in 2025, EV adoption isn’t exactly going the way everyone thought—or rather hoped—it would. The hype surrounding EVs worked fast, and the glinting dollar signs in people’s eyes as they saw Tesla’s share price soar higher and higher convinced even people who don’t care about decarbonization that going all-in on EVs was the way to go.
But it takes longer to develop a new vehicle than it takes to excite an investor. And it takes longer even than that to build out the charging infrastructure necessary to transform EV motoring from something for early adopters and the eco-conscious into a viable alternative for a largely incurious and change-averse general public. Which is a long-winded way of saying the industry got out over its skis.
Take the Ford F-150 Lightning. Americans adore their pickup trucks, and the Lightning is a darn good pickup in most regards. It looks like a normal F-150, and while it might not tow as far before it has to stop, it does most other things as well or better than the gasoline-powered equivalent.
But something the size and shape of a full-size pickup truck is always going to require a lot of energy to push it through the air—even if you squeezed the drag coefficient, there’s no getting away from so much frontal area. And that means you need a gigantic battery in order to meet range expectations. And that means the truck that customers thought would cost $40,000 actually costs way more; sometimes as much as twice that. So it has hardly been the sales success people once imagined.
Lots of suspension tweaks but no extra power for this WRX variant.
Subaru went with a sedan for the current version of the WRX. Credit: Jim Resnick
Subaru went with a sedan for the current version of the WRX. Credit: Jim Resnick
The Subaru WRX has always been the equivalent of an automotive shrug. Not because it lacks character but because it simply doesn’t care what others think. It’s a punk rock band with enough talent to fill stadiums but band members who don’t seem to care about chasing fame. And the STI versions of yesteryear proved so talented that fame chased them.
For 2025, Subaru updated the WRX to now include the tS, which at first glance appears to be the same flannel-wearing street fighter. But looks can be deceiving. The tS hides sharpened tools underneath, translating to better handling and responsiveness.
What does “tS” really mean?
Subaru positions the tS as being tuned by STI, but it’s not an STI return. Sure, that’s technically true; only Subaru can name something STI. And to be clear, there’s no extra power here, no gigantic wing that takes out flocks of birds, and no pink STI badge on the trunk. But the tS is imbued with enough STI-ness to make a case.
The WRX still sticks to the same recipe that made it so popular, starting in the late ’90s. Credit: Jim Resnick
The hardware updates begin with electronically controlled dampers, stiffer engine mounts, a reworked steering rack, and huge, gold-painted Brembo brakes from the WRX TR, with six-piston calipers in front and two-piston units in the rear. Subaru’s engineers didn’t try to reinvent the WRX. They just put some finishing touches on it.
The engine story remains essentially the same. A 2.4 L turbocharged flat-four still produces 271 hp (202 kW) and 258 lb-ft (350 Nm) of torque from 12.0 psi of turbo boost, unchanged from the standard WRX, and the familiar boxer thrum remains. Power courses through a six-speed manual transmission to Subaru’s faithful symmetrical all-wheel-drive system. And not that most WRX buyers or fans would care much, but the sportster logs low EPA figures of just 19/26/22 city/highway combined MPG (12.4/9/10.7 L/100 km).
Driving: Precision dancing
The WRX tS doesn’t go any quicker than the base WRX since they both carry the same output, same transmission, and same essential guts and weight, but it’s no less fun. I didn’t do any measured testing of hard acceleration times, but I did dance around with the tS on my private test track in the Arizona desert.
Quad pipes burble pleasantly. Credit: Jim Resnick
I’m no Fred Astaire, but cinched into a willing, capable car, finding Ginger Rogers in front of you is rare. When I do, it’s time for celebration. Meet Ginger. As a WRX, she might be wearing ripped jeans and rubber soles, but when gliding across this dance floor (sinewy roads), no one cares.
Over the years, several plucky, beasty sportsters have punched way above their weight classes. The STIs of the past; the late, great Integra Type R (yes, I’m old enough to have tested it when new); the odd ’60s vintage racing Mini Cooper S (“the flying shoebox”); and various strains of VW Golf GTI all conspire to plant a smile on the face of even the most jaded car snob. This is the tS.
The Robert test
Knowing what good entertainment is worth, I brought my friend Robert along for an afternoon of WRXing. He owns multiple exotic sports cars, loves talking about them (but has never taken them to the track), and can rarely be bothered to discuss anything else with wheels. Robert flies in private jets, wears Brioni, and has a place on Park Avenue stocked with a case of Dom. (Perignon, that is.) “Jaded” is scratching the surface.
It’s very blue in here. Credit: Jim Resnick
After about 10 solid minutes of no-nonsense, twisting private test-track floggery at 6,000 rpm, full of opposite-lock steering and ABS tickling, I looked over at Robert as we came to a stop. I couldn’t have slapped the grin off his face if I tried.
“They sell this to the public?” he asked incredulously.
I relayed some more facts to Robert before we roared off again.
“These new adaptive dampers offer three modes, including Comfort, Normal, and Sport. There’s also a fourth Individual setting where you pick your throttle response, steering weight, damper stiffness, and all-wheel-drive behavior,” I told him.
He demanded to go again.
STI has not worked its magic under here. Credit: Jim Resnick
“Yeah, also, Subaru reduced the body roll rate by 30 percent from the WRX TR and limited brake dive and acceleration squat by 50 percent, I think through the new dampers,” I said as we entered a high-speed corner at about 95 mph.
It was at this point that Robert asked if we had a sick bag onboard. He was quiet the rest of the afternoon.
To be sure, I love an overachiever, and that’s the WRX tS. The smart cookies out there in Subie-world will take care of the tS engine in creative ways to bring into fuller balance the power/handling equilibrium, because if someone messes with the tS suspension, they’d be nuts. It’s about as stiff and capable as I could ever want in a car that needed to be driven on real roads. Perhaps grippier rubber? But even then, more grip would throw off the natural chuckability of the tS, and I love chuckable cars. The tS’s steering quickness and feel are both right on point.
Interior and daily use: Highs and lows
Big seat bolsters, but they don’t fit every back. Jim Resnick
Inside, the WRX tS doesn’t reinvent the Subaru design playbook, but it does offer upgrades. The most obvious are the Recaro front seats, which are a mixed bag. They provide oodles of support but are perhaps too aggressive for some body shapes. They’re extremely snug and hold you in place, provided you fit into them. I’m not that broad-shouldered, but the Recaro’s side bolsters nearly allow air to pass between my back and the seatback, so tightly coupled are the upper side bolsters.
The 11.6-inch portrait-oriented infotainment screen returns, and while it packs all the obvious functionality, such as Apple CarPlay, Android Auto, and a decent native navigation system, it still suffers from terribly sluggish response times. The new digital gauge cluster offers multiple display options, including a driver-focused performance view with boost pressure, gear position, and torque distribution.
A new digital gauge cluster can be configured as a typical presentation of dials or a track-oriented cluster with a bar graph tach. Navigation depicts maps crisply, too.
But Subaru’s EyeSight, which offers a variety of driver monitoring systems, breaks all known records in nannyism with pervasive, over-the-top reminders about driver attention. The system instructed me to keep my hands on the steering wheel, even though my hands were already on the steering wheel. It told me to keep my eyes on the road, but I was looking straight ahead at the car in front of me. Perhaps it was programmed by a very nervous George Costanza?
The build quality in the WRX TS is up to snuff, and soft-touch materials cover more surfaces than before. The cabin isn’t quite that of a luxury car, nor would anyone really expect it to be. It’s functional, durable, and right in character for the tS and for a Subaru.
The WRX tS retains some quirks, like the raucous engine note, especially under load and when first fired up. Until the fast idle has settled down, the exhaust is very boomy at the rear of the car.
Would it be a turbo Subie if it didn’t have a hood scoop? Jim Resnick
And then there’s the price. At $48,875, including the required destination charge, the un-optioned WRX tS gives you almost no change from $50,000. That’s a big heap of money for a WRX with no additional power than others and no STI badge, except on the gauges and shift knob. However, you do get a chassis above reproach, brakes that never give up, and steering that can shame some exotics. And it renders the Roberts in your life mute.
A veteran of journalism, product planning and communications in the automotive and music space, Jim reports, critiques and lectures on autos, music and culture.
General Motors blamed Trump’s tariffs for costing it $1.1 billion in Q2 and as much as $5 billion by the end of the year. And while the new anti-EV adoption policies are yet to fully bite, it’s clear they’ve motivated some action inside the GM boardroom. Although GM CEO Mary Barra wrote to investors that the company believes “the long-term future is profitable electric vehicle production,” she followed by explaining that GM’s flexible factories will help it succeed in a world where EPA fuel economy targets are no longer a thing. That’s probably why GM added 300,000 more units of capacity for “high margin light-duty pickups, full-size SUVs and crossovers.”
Ford said that the tariffs could cost it as much as $2 billion this year, despite it making more actual vehicles in the US than any other automaker. That’s because it has to pay the US government to import raw materials like steel and aluminum, as well as components and subassemblies.
Foreign automakers are also feeling the effects, given the importance—until now, at least—of the US car buyer. Stellantis, which owns the Jeep and Ram brands, said it had already lost $2.7 billion this year due to tariffs, although the automaker stands to benefit in the coming years from the gutting of fleet fuel efficiency fines.
Aston Martin may benefit from a lower 10 percent tariff for UK-made cars, but it described the process as “extremely disruptive,” and although it has now restarted shipping cars to America, it issued a profit warning last week.
BMW is among the less badly hurt; although its operating margin fell to 5.4 percent, this was within its expectations. Mercedes had to warn investors to expect less this year, and it says the US will become a less-important market for the company, which plans to make up for it with growth in China. Volkswagen Group said the tariffs have cost it $1.5 billion so far this year, and it has also revised down its forecasts for the rest of the year.
Although Porsche announced record deliveries in North America just a week ago, its operating profit was a third of that a year ago. “In the US, import tariffs are also putting huge pressure on our business. Looking ahead, the movement of the dollar could also have an impact. In addition, the transformation to electric mobility is progressing more slowly than expected overall, with consequences for the supplier network,” said Porsche and VW Group CEO Oliver Blume.
Morgan motoring is best when exposed to the elements. Credit: Michael Teo Van Runkle
In Sport+, the optional active sports exhaust system ($2,827.50) also helps to impart a slightly more serious soundtrack. This one manages a bit of drama as turbo whine and intake rush creep in through a complete lack of sound insulation. Plus, the exhaust barks out back with little pops and bangs on throttle liftoff.
Without a doubt, nothing on the road can quite compare to a Plus Four today. What other lightweight sports cars even survived into the modern era, when a Porsche Boxster or even a Lotus Emira now weigh above 3,000 pounds (1,360 kg)? Only the Mazda MX-5, perhaps, which weighs slightly more, with swoopy modern styling and economy car materials on the inside.
Speaking of which, plenty on the Plus Four could use a bit more of a premium touch. The steering wheel looks reminiscent of a Lotus Elise or even an original Tesla Roadster, plasticky and cheap despite the leather and physical shape actually turning out fairly nice. A thin wood rim would go a long way, as would remedying some other questionable build quality decisions throughout.
The interior lacks the charm of the exterior. Michael Teo Van Runkle
More wood on the dash, rather than the standard painted silver, might reduce glare with the convertible top laid back. And even with the roof up and the removable door panels in place, the Plus Four never approaches anywhere near weatherproof, as I felt strong drafts from around my left elbow, and the sliding plexiglas windows entirely lack seals. The sun visor attachments also rattle incessantly, and the Sennheiser premium sound system can’t even bump loud enough to drown the annoyance out, so perhaps skip that $3,770 option.
Some of the Plus Four’s issues seem easily fixable: Remove the roof, forget the music, and torque down some fittings a bit more here and there. Needing to worry about such avoidable irritations in the first place, though, proves that Morgan may have modernized the car, but a certain level of classic British engineering still applies.
Even so, nothing else I’ve driven mixes driving pleasure and crowd pleasing at the level of the new Plus Four. At the price of $103,970 as tested, I simply cannot forgive the decision not to offer the choice of a manual transmission, which would transform this classy roadster into an entirely different animal indeed.
Scout Motors, the new SUV brand from Volkswagen Group, has also raised some hackles with its plan to sell direct. VW and Audi dealers are suing the company, claiming they should have been offered the right to sell its cars since they also sell other brands from the giant automaker. (The dealers’ argument conveniently ignores the fact that those dealers don’t have a right to franchises for Porsches, Lamborghinis, Bugattis, or the other brands within the VW Group empire, but don’t go expecting consistency here.) A separate group of California car dealers is also suing Scout over direct car sales.
Rivian v. Ohio
In Ohio’s case, the most recent affirmation against direct car sales came in 2014, with a state law that forbids issuing a license to sell cars to anyone who is “a manufacturer, or a parent company, subsidiary, or affiliated entity of a manufacturer, applying for a license to sell or lease new or used motor vehicles at retail,” although it did make an exception for Tesla.
Rivian says that Ohio has no legitimate interest in preventing it from selling cars to Ohioans and that the state “allows manufacturers like Rivian to perform warranty service and other repairs on vehicles in Ohio, to rent vehicles to consumers in Ohio, and even to sell new vehicles to Ohioans from out-of-state dealerships that can be delivered to Rivian service centers in Ohio. Nonsensically, the thing that Rivian cannot do is actually complete the sale of Rivian vehicles in Ohio.”
Last year, Rivian CEO and founder RJ Scaringe told journalists that the “horrific state-by-state level of rules… are as close as you can get to corruption,” and that “you essentially have lots of dealers that paid for lots of laws that make it really hard for us to interact directly with the customer.”
He’s not wrong about the vociferous opposition to OEM direct car sales. “The direct sale model is nothing more than an effort to crush competition and suck profits out of local communities to Silicon Valley and Wall Street,” the New Jersey Coalition of Automotive Retailers said.
And Rivian has faced lawsuits from dealerships in Michigan (successfully) and Illinois (unsuccessfully) in the past.
