Jaguar F-Type

Unlike other Jags, even the R-series lineup, the F's 5.0-liter V8 has a rumbling bark that could almost drown out a Corvette or Maserati Gran Tourismo. There's plenty of lightning to go with that thunder, though, and the F brings some athletic credentials. But after a while, even the relatively civilized ride and the well-insulated fabric top become irrelevant with that kind of exhaust snarl even iif you try to subdue it through all the driving modes and the buttons controlling them. With 495-hp there is clearly no shortage of thrust and the eight-speed automatic (the only one offered) cooperates beautifully. If so inclined, you can simulate manual shifts with paddle shifters on the wheel. A prominent in-dash gear indicator helps.

On the track the Jag was more than willing to play and proved capable and forgiving, with a talent for rotating itself around bends without scaring anyone to death. Bucking the trend, Jaguar has eschewed electric power steering, sticking instead to hydraulic set-up, which here feels linear and communicates feedback nicely. The F-Type has been compared to a Porsche Boxster or a 911, but the Jag is considerably bigger and heftier, and to my mind doesn't feel as sharp, lithe and light on its feet as a Porsche.

Commendably, the body stays largely free of the twist and shake of most convertibles, and wind-buffeting is minor when the top is down. You can supposedly mute the exhaust somewhat with a button on the console, but all it does is convert the output from an explosive staccato to a fierce growl. Even at its tamest your neighbors will know you're coming home long before you get there. And when you get there, you're likely to be exhausted (no pun intended). Evidently, the sound engineers went a little gangbusters.

Surprise and delight features begin with flush-set door handles that pop out as soon as you unlock the car. Slipping in or hoisting one's self out of the low slung cabin requires some flexibility, but once situated the seats are supportive and the tight cabin is festooned with rich materials. Another bit of showmanship is the dash vents, which rise from the center dash when you hit the ignition button. The electronic shifter proved too fussy, though, with an unclear button on the lever to select Park. I almost walked away from the car when it was still in Reverse.

Just to prove Jaguar hasn't lost its eccentricity, the small trunk is deeply asymmetrical, and resembles a form-fitting carrying case for some bizarre musical instrument. Commendably, the body stays largely free of the twist and shake of most convertibles, and wind-buffeting is minor when the top is down. You can supposedly mute the exhaust somewhat with a button on the console, but all it does is convert the output from an explosive staccato to a fierce growl. Even at its tamest your neighbors will know you're coming home long before you get there. And when you get there, you're likely to be exhausted (no pun intended). Evidently, the sound engineers went a little gangbusters.