Henry Payne

My wife’s sofas are littered with pillows inscribed with clever sayings. My favorite: “I know I’m efficient. Tell me I’m beautiful.”

The Hyundai Sonata reminds me of that pillow.

Efficient, affordable and reliable, the Sonata suddenly showed up in 2009 looking gorgeous. We gaped at it. We purred over it. We bought it. Dubbed the YF in Hyundai’s internal nomenclature, the midsize sedan wasn’t so much a sonata as it was a rock ‘n’ roll cantata. With a raked nose, open grill, and deep body creases that resembled hollow cheekbones, the Sonata arrived like Mick Jagger kicking in the stage door and singing “Start Me Up” at a violin recital. The docile, middle-aged, midsize sedan segment gasped. And then, irresistibly, they started to tap their feet. Start me up ... and don’t stop!

“The YF put us on the map in terms of volume,” says Mike O’Brien, Hyundai Product VP for North America.

“The last Sonata got us into the party,” says O’Brien. “The new one gets us invited back.”

A lot has happened since the 2009 model. To be specific, the Genesis happened. No, not the Genesis Coupe, but Hyundai’s sexy, Euro-styled, Genesis luxury sedan (why two different vehicles in Hyundai’s lineup share a name is a mystery). The Genesis moves the Korean brand uptown in the U.S. market. The last gen Sonata’s daring, slashing architecture inspired other, smaller Hyundai drones — Elantra, Accent — to ambush their segments as well.

Now the Sonata steps to the beat of the Genesis. Where the Sonata pioneered Hyundai’s “Fluidic Sculpture” design philosophy, the Genesis sets the tone of Fluidic Design 2.0. The rest of the lineup will surely follow.

The Sonata’s familiar, fluidic design riffs are still in evidence but have been tidied, tucked, trimmed. Like Jagger singing in a coat and tie at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the rebel is now the establishment.

Like the Genesis, the new LF Sonata’s grille is more upright. The deep, racy shoulder lines have been pulled straight. “Fluidic Sculpture 2.0 is more modern, more detail-oriented,” says O’Brien, a former Ford and Toyota engineer. “It’s elevated to a more premium level. If the YF was a big, showy diamond, the LF is a smaller cut of higher quality.”

The conservative upgrade is echoed inside the Sonata’s swept, coupe-like greenhouse. With rolling edges and a slashing, vertical console, the outgoing Sonata’s interior mirrored its loud exterior. The 2015 model is less busy, more harmonious. Piano-black keys and soft vinyl bring premium refinement across an intuitive, zen landscape. Like horizontal seams across a rock face, parallel lines unify the dash. Beginning left of the steering wheel, horizontally arranged driver assist buttons (governing traction and lane assist) give way to an elegant instrument panel. Seamlessly, the eye moves right to orderly radio and climate controls. A horizon of soft vinyl continues across the glove box, you ... are ... getting ... sleepy ... zzzzzz.

OK, so fans of the previous generation may want a little more interior pizzazz. But Hyundai has concentrated the new car’s innovation deeper under the skin.

Like Ford and its Fusion, Hyundai has nixed a V6 from its engine options. Not just banished it. Buried it. With an engine bay designed with only fuel-efficient, four-bangers in mind, the Sonata opens more space for the rest of the chassis to accommodate passengers. The result: the best interior room in class — a yawning 122.4 cubic feet. With the front seat back, I can stretch my 6-foot-5-inch frame to full length — yet the 6-foot-5-inch bloke behind me can still comfortably sit upright, his knees just touching the seat back in front of him.

The benefits extend to the also-roomiest-in-class trunk. Open it and you need a spelunker guide with a torch to find its nether reaches.

Back up, you say. What was that about no V6 option? How are you supposed to lug around all that acreage without upgrading the Sonata’s stock 2.4-liter and 2.0-liter engine options?

Okay, if you’ve come to the midsize class with performance in mind, you might want to keep on walking. The Mazda 6 has more nimble handling. Chrysler’s curvy, all-wheel drive 200 sports a throaty, 295 horsepower, 3.6-liter Pentastar V6 that will better slake your thirst for speed.

Still, the Sonata four-holers — 185 and 245 horsepower, respectively — provide plenty of giddyap. What’s more, you can flog the four hamsters with minimal intrusion into the cabin thanks to the Korean sedan’s superb chassis upgrade. With 40 percent more steel enforcement and a sealed underbelly, the 2015 Sonata barreled over the carriage-rutted roads of Ypsilanti Township with little clatter. Try that in the previous generation YF.

Which leads me to the Sonata’s last clever secret: a turbocharged, 1.6-liter engine offered only in the sedan’s so-called “Eco” trim.

Paired with a seven-gear, dual-clutch transmission, this little gem — combined with my lead right foot — terrorized Ypsilanti while still recording 32 miles per gallon. Yet, the Eco model — in typical Hyundai fashion — comes in at a surprisingly cheap $27,275. Hybrids should shudder at such performance — beginning with $32,785, 38 mpg Sonata hybrid. Do the math.

The crisp, elegant Sonata is a statement that the Hyundai is here to stay. Its bread and butter sedan is a match for anything in the segment — and at a cheaper price with the Sonata $1,200 cheaper on average than key competitors.

Tucson

The Sonata is runner-up (behind the Chevy Malibu) in JD Power’s Initial Quality Survey. It’s a leader in value. A leader in interior space. Yes, the Sonata is efficient. Just don’t call it beautiful. Handsome will do.

From compacts to muscle cars to crossovers to land yachts, Americans have never had such a broad vehicle menu and I have the pleasure of sampling it for you 365 days a year. It’s not a bad gig. We auto pundits spill gallons of ink picking the Best Sedan, Best SUV, Best Sports Car, and so on.

But what of the myriad features stuffed into the fastest, sexiest, most complex consumer products on earth?

Even before the acceleration of digital wizardry into cars, auto features were worth their own best list. Teams of engineers are assigned to every corner of a vehicle in order to tease out that last styling or ergonomic detail that will make a customer choose, say, a Jeep Grand Cherokee over a Hyundai Santa Fe.

Herewith my 2014 list of the best of the best features in autos today – mechanical, digital, aesthetic, and otherwise. This is hardly a comprehensive list – and I will humbly admit to C pillar-sized blind spots. I have not driven all 290-plus models out there. What did I miss? What is your favorite feature? Please add your “Best of” choice in the Comments field below. First, let’s turn on the lights. . . .

Best headlights: Cadillac Escalade. Bordered by an LED tube waterfall, a ladder of five LED bulbs - each separated by heat-dispersing fins - light the big ute's path. The Fox Theater’s marquee doesn’t have this much bling.

Best fog lights: VW Golf. Lux vehicles swivel their headlights to follow your path, but only the common Golf (and its Beetle bro’) use their inside fog lamps to illuminate a corner’s apex. High curb? Pothole? You’ll see it.

Best grille: Mercedes CLA250. Put Merc’s star in the middle of a pentagon grille. Then place jewel-like droplets on a thin mesh that radiate out from the logo like ripples on a pond. Eat your heart out Tiffany’s.

Best launch control: Corvette C7. Other supercars – Alfa Romeo 4C, Nissan GTR — offer automatic tranny launch controls so idiot-proof you feel like a passenger on board Cedar Point’s Top Thrill Dragster ‘coaster. The 455-horsepower Stingray gives it to you with a manual. It’s life-altering. Not for the feint-of-heart, it offers a test of your shifter reflexes as you rocket from zero-60 (popping the clutch with your right foot on the floor at a rib cage-rattling 4000 RPM) in 3.8 seconds.

Best alternative drive system: Chevy Volt/Cadillac ELR. Yeah, yeah, I love the electric Tesla Model S, too. Staggering acceleration. Innovative electronics. Acres of interior space. But what if you’ve gotta drive to Marquette? Until electric cars are as cheap as Civics, the charging infrastructure won’t happen. The GM batteries will get you to work. The gas engine will get you Up North.

Best blind spot warning: Acura MDX. I like blind-spot assist. Especially in large SUVs with blind spots the size of Oklahoma. But can I always see the little, blinking car icon? On the outside of my passenger mirror? In the sun? MDX blind-spot indicators are inside the vehicle on the A pillars. Smart.

Best smart key: Hyundai Equus. Approach the Equus and the big sedan senses the key in your pocket, instantly unlocking the doors and opening the side mirrors like hands to greet you. (Okay, it’s a little eerie.)

Best paddle shifters: Mazda MX-5. With all the mighty supercars out there with steering wheel-mounted shifters, who woulda thunk the mini MX-5 would pioneer paired, up-and-down shifters on both sides of the wheel? No longer are both hands a slave to the wheel when shifting.

Best ottoman: Honda Fit. Seriously. Get in the backseat, fold the front passenger seat back flat. Put your legs up and stay a while.

Best touch screen: Chrysler UConnect. I prefer dials whenever possible, but given the amount of stuff you can pack into touch screen systems (not to mention the feds mandating backup cameras), they are to stay. UConnect - in Jeeps, Chryslers, et al - is one useful guide dog.

Best center console: Tesla Model S. A 17-inch tablet. No surprise, it’s from the Silicon Valley-based automaker.

Best backseat: Chrysler/Dodge Stow n’ Go. These ridiculously versatile thrones fold up for easy access to the third row, or fold into the floor, or offer floor storage when upright, or eject you before a crash - safely deploying parachutes for a soft landing (okay, I made that last one up).

Best liftgate: Ford Escape. No contest. Swing your foot under the bumper and the hatch opens.

Meanwhile, Mazda has cornered the market on wee English sports car nostalgia with the Miata.

cars

Yet Mazda’s little roller-skate has stayed true to its roots: affordable, fuel efficient, and more fun than Monty Python’s Spamalot.

Tight fit

Compact and cramped, the MX-5 is even sized like a British crumpet. It is the tightest fit of any car that I’ve driven. A Fiat 500’s headroom is like the Sistine Chapel compared to this pillbox. Next to an MX-5, the compact Chevy Spark’s driver seat feels like a Vegas pool chair.

The third generation MX-5 remains an homage to the playful Elan’s looks with its smiling, gaping grille which seems to shout — “Aha, I caught ya!” — in your rearview mirror. Early sketches of the all-new, fourth-gen MX-5 (due next year) suggest that the car will conform to the Mazda family’s Kodo-design architecture, cementing its position of permanence in the Mazda lineup.

Wipe a sentimental tear because Mazda does Lotus so well. Indeed, with its open headlights, the MX-5 now echoes the original, legendary 26R, which launched the Elan legend by terrorizing the European GT circuit in the early ’60s. The MX-5’s haunches have also grown, giving the car the more fearsome, feline look of the 26R as opposed to the mousier production Elan (that the original Miata slavishly resembled). Our scrawny cutie has been working out.

Modest in power

Yet, under the bulging hood, the MX-5 remains modest in power.

Its 158 horsepower (with the automatic transmission, 167 ponies with stick) is not a far cry from the Elan original’s 126. The MX-5’s biceps may awaken the corner cop (my MX-5 got appreciative looks wherever I drove), but its 6.9-second 0-60 mph time won’t. Turbocharged pocket rockets like the VW GTI and Ford Focus ST — even the MX-5’s aging brother Mazdaspeed 3 — will eat the MX-5 for breakfast at a Woodward stoplight.

But the MX-5 doesn’t mind. This sports car wants you to have fun, without tempting you to the limits. Maybe that’s why it’s a favorite of drivers’ schools like Barber at Laguna Seca, Calif.

The MX-5 makes an interesting contrast to the howling, Tasmanian Devil-on-wheels Alfa 4C that I recently tested. Both share a short wheelbase. Both tip the scales at about 2,500 pounds. Both are halos for their respective performance brands. But where the 4C wants to set a benchmark for $65,000 luxury greyhounds, the MX-5 offers inspiration for more modest bank accounts.

At your fingertips

Slip into the MX-5’s nicely contoured seats and the whole car feels like it’s at your fingertips. Stretch out your arm and you ... can ... almost ... reach ... the rear wheels. The little, three-spoke steering wheel fits compact surrounds. The gearshift is at your elbow. If they remake the Wizard of Oz, the Mayor of Munchkin City will drive up in an MX-5.

WARNING TO BEANSTALKS: THE MX-5 WILL CRAMP YOUR STYLE. Where mid-engine firecrackers like the Alfa 4C offer plenty of leg room, the MX-5’s two-seat layout means the driver is wedged between a fore-mounted engine and a rear-stowed, removable top. The result is little room for maneuver compared to, say, a rear-seated, 2+2 Subaru BRZ. My knees straddled the steering wheel, my back slumped into the seat, my noggin crowded the hardtop ceiling.

Good thing the MX-5 is such a joy to drive topless.

Release the ceiling latch, press the dashboard button and the MX-5’s metal helmet effortlessly retracts into the trunk in just 12 seconds, leaving an airplane luggage-sized trunk space roomy enough for a small suitcase and two Munchkins. At speed, the cabin is remarkably livable, accommodating easy conversation even as you gallop through the Michigan landscape at 70 mph-plus.

The Mazda doesn’t fear the whip. Rollicking over the knobs and nooks of northern Michigan’s Route 66, the MX-5 begs you to slip into manual shift mode.

Ingenious shift paddles

A word here about Mazda’s ingenious shift paddle design. Where most paddle shifters require two hands on the wheel — downshifts with the left hand, upshifts with the right — the MX-5 locates two pairs of up and down paddles on either side of the wheel depending on your hand preference. Shifting with one hand — upshift with the fingertips, downshift with the thumb — frees the offhand to rotate the wheel. Or just cruise one-handed.

Throw this fun-box into a corner and its 51/49 weight balance rotates easily under rear-drive power. The lightweight chassis rarely makes the tires scream, though the steering could use some firming. At full chat, the hydraulic rack feels floaty, rootless. At the end of a good squawk, you don’t feel beat up by an over-stiff chassis, your knuckles aren’t white, and your passenger isn’t searching the glove compartment for a barf bag. Sure, that Alfa 4C you were chasing is in the next county, but you still have an appetite for dinner.

If anything, the sophisticated auto-manual tranny feels out of place in such a back-to-basics car. In an age where electronically-stuffed consoles make autos seem like airliner cockpits, the MX-5 is simple, spartan. The radio is operated by dials, the mileage is reset by a button.

Old school. Old pleasures. Old country. We love our British throwbacks. Happy anniversary, Miata-san. You do a bloody good interpretation of an English classic.

It was 2006. The Detroit Auto Show. Buick was pulling the wraps off a large SUV. Granny gets a truck. I’ll take a truck-full of NoDoz, please. What happened next was entirely unexpected.

Buick hit it out of the park.

The sexy Buick Enclave – yes, I just used sexy and Buick in the same sentence — was proof that the struggling brand had a pulse. Retiring the Rendezvous and Rainier dinosaurs, Buick took the opportunity of GM’s new, unibody Lambda platform to redefine the SUV. The result was a head-turning crossover as the Enclave lit up the Detroit stage like a Baroque beauty out of a Paul Rubens painting: Big-boned, athletic, drop-dead gorgeous.

I recently drove a 2015 Enclave wrapped in $54,185, premium trim. Does it have what it takes to compete over time? The big SUV is still gorgeous, but a closer look reveals cause for concern.

Let the record show that Enclave had its best sales year ever in 2013 with 60,534 units sold. After a 2013 update, the Enclave’s looks are still fresh. Despite its size, the 4,700-pound SUV is beautifully proportioned with firm shoulders fore and slinky hips aft. Standing tall on 20-inch heels — er, wheels — the Enclave beckons you to follow it down the road.

The evening gown competition doesn’t end there. The waterfall grille is flanked by big, almond-shaped headlights. The grille carries a little too much chrome jewelry for my taste. Forget the lights, this bauble is blinding. Around back, the Enclave’s plunging v-shaped window line is exquisite (it is a design shared by the lovely Chevy Traverse, which can be confusing).

Yes, the old dame still has it. But why do I have to say “old”?

The Buick’s age is starting to show. It’s rich, much-ballyhooed interior still impresses, but has been equaled by the MDX and up-and-comers like the dashing Hyundai Santa Fe. The Enclave’s swooping dash and ambient lighting accents echo the exterior, but the vehicle is missing basic segment refinements like push-button start — while its haptic-touch console buttons can be quirky. More worrisome are antiquated exterior tics like fake hood intake ports. Once a proud birthmark of the Buick family, that DNA is now a drag on a vehicle that is a symbol of a new generation.

Like Botox on a super model, the addition subtracts from the car’s true beauty.

The Enclave offers but a single power plant — a 3.6-liter, 288 horsepower V6 — to pull its heft. At a time when the Lexus RX offers a hybrid option and fuel-efficient turbos are boosting power in Caddys and Regals to over 100 horsepower per liter, the Enclave is due for an upgrade.

That power would be welcome in a big car that feels so much smaller to drive. Inside, the Enclave sports a palatial, roomiest-in-class third-row seat — accessed with ease by Buick’s “Smart Slide” second-row captain’s chairs. Take the wheel of the big yacht, however, and my all-wheel drive version cut through wavy roads with ease, exhibiting minimal body roll and tight steering. Tip o’ the admiral’s cap to hydraulic power steering and an independent rear suspension.

The Enclave deserves its place as a franchise vehicle. It’s profitable, lists as a Consumer Reports 2014 Top 10 Most Reliable American Car, and attracts younger buyers. Yet by filling a premium niche between Chevy and Cadillac in the GM lineup, Buick’s future seems precarious. Its Regal sits on an Opel platform, the Enclave on a Chevy platform. Will the Enclave remain relevant, or will GM slowly starve it of future investment?

The Enclave’s Rubenesque figure wowed the world in 2006. When Tiger Woods advertised a Buick Rainier we snickered. But when supermodel Marisa Miller pedals an Enclave, we nod. Buick’s challenge is to keep her behind the wheel.

Crossover

Given homo sapiens preference for riding up high — Americans conquered the West on horseback and Conestoga wagon after all — I’m wagering it won’t be long before crossover utility vehicles take over the sedan segment entirely. For sure, before the Lions win a Super Bowl. Heck, even Europeans have adopted this most American of trends, with CUV sales doubling over the last six years. Just this year, Jeep announced it will make its Renegade crossover in Italy and Ford will export the Edge. What’s next? Soccer-crazed Brits turning to baseball?

Baseball, hot dogs, apple pie, and CUVs. And no one understands the Yankee mind better than Honda.

Duel at high noon. We put these two pistols back-to-back. Twenty paces, gents.

Thinking outside the box

The CUV separated itself from truck-based SUVs by building on car-inspired, unibody chassis. Now their exterior skins are mimicking sedans as well.

Think outside the box.

Compacts like the Escape, Mazda CX-5, and Kia Sportage lead this wave with raked styling, attractive grilles and curvy hips. Where the Honda CR-V brought Civic-like dependability to the class, the Escape has leap-frogged the Honda in styling. A generation ago, the Escape looked like it was carved from a block of cheese. Now it looks like a Ford Focus on steroids.

From its angular front and rear lights to its full fascia grille (sure to be Aston Martin-ized soon like the rest of Ford’s lineup) to its swept greenhouse, the Escape shows a lot of leg to the passing sedan crowd. Dads who bought the Escape for their soccer moms will find themselves sneaking out to the garage at first light to take it to work instead of their aging (big, boxy ute name here).

The squared-off Equinox is a tidy, attractive interpretation of Chevy’s split-grille, two-box architecture. But next to the Escape it looks a generation behind. Only the muscular wheel wells stir any passion. In the salon chair next to the Equinox is the larger Traverse which has received the full Camaro-inspired, Impala-like extreme makeover. What the Equinox wouldn’t do to get the same stylist.

Surprisingly, the Escape’s sloped greenhouse does not compromise interior room and visibility. Indeed, the Ford’s angular glass carves out room in the D-pillar to improve driver’s rear-corner visibility. The Equinox’s more traditional D-pillar combines with the second-row headrest to make rear visibility difficult. All SUVs, however, suffer from D-pillar blindness. The solution? Blind spot assist on the mirrors. Don’t leave home without it.

Inside, only Sequoias like your 6-foot-5-inch author will notice the slight reduction in rear headroom from the Escape roof while still beating the Equinox in interior room.

Devil in interior details

My neighbor Betsy Walbridge is a stickler for detail. She’s a master chef with a shrewd taste for the right ingredients. She can spot an overcooked entree at 500 paces. And she loves her Escape interior.

Buyers lured by the Escape’s exterior detail will be won over by the high-IQ interior. Ford’s interior design engineers must have hammock-sized circles under their eyes because they sweated every detail. As in the exterior comparison, the Equinox is well-groomed, but just hasn’t spent as much time in front of the mirror as its Dearborn competitor.

May I call your attention to the Escape’s upright center console which is more accessible than the Equinox’s sloped approach. Both screens are high on the dash, necessitating sun shielding. The Escape’s canopy is wonderfully integrated into the interior’s swept design whereas the Chevy visor looks like an aftermarket job.

Ford’s infamous, glitchy SYNC system has been the single best advertisement for the CR-V. The new Escape shows off a much-improved system which, like Chevy’s ubiquitous MyLink system, gives you the world at your fingertips. Nav, radio, blue-tooth phone ...

What’s that, Mrs. Walbridge? Oh, yes, the devil is in the details.

To answer the phone, Ford provides a fingertip-accessed tab aft of the wheel. The Equinox sports a standard thumb button by the steering wheel hub. But if you have my neighbor’s small thumbs it’s a stretch.

More details. Foot-activated rear lift gate, three USB jacks, innovative two-shelf glove box, directional fog lights, fold-flat rear seats. ... Sure the Equinox comes with sliding rear seats, but when the other dude shows up at the front door with flowers — and a box of candy, and tickets to the Tigers game, and a babysitter for your kid sister, which one are you gonna go with?

Performance options

Both CUVs option with all-wheel-drive, which is not only useful for winter’s wrath but for getting out of the post-thaw potholes. For all the Escape’s interior and exterior eye-candy, however, the real difference-maker is hidden under the hood.

Class-leader Honda offers one engine — a 2.4 liter four banger. The Escape offers three: A standard 2.5 liter, a 1.6 liter turbo, and the terrific, 240-horsepower 2.0-liter turbo in the Titanium model that I drove. The Equinox is pro-choice as well — offering a base 2.4 and a 3.6-liter V6. Like Jeep’s racy Cherokee, Chevy is betting the V6 still has premium cachet.

But the Escape turbo is cutting edge: Quiet, no turbo lag, lots of low end grunt. It’s like a V6 but without the appetite. 24 mpg vs. 19 mpg.

They say the smart phone industry is about convergence. Users want a phone with the screen size of a tablet. The automobile has been around for a century, but it seems to be on the same course: Ute-size with car styling. The Ford Escape is that future.