BMW loves America, and to prove it, BMW is sending us a North American exclusive sports coupé and convertible. No, it is not some fabulous concept car turned production, its last year’s 335i cranked up a notch with some M3 parts and an exhaust system that’s too loud to be sold in the EU tossed in for good measure. Does that make the 335is the perfect 3 series? BMW tossed us the keys to one for a week to find out.

Before we talk about the 335is, we need to talk about the refreshed 2011 3 series first. Since the 3 series has remained largely unchanged since 2007, BMW decided a mid-cycle refresh was in order. For 2011, all 3 series coupés and convertibles get a new nose, new headlamps with new LED “angel eyes,” some new tail lamps, rear bumper tweaks and some rocker panels. As a result of the rhinoplasty, the 2011 model gains an inch and a half over the previous model making it the longest 3 series ever (3.5” longer than the sedan). Inside the changes are essentially limited to the instruction of the latest generation of iDrive and some new paddle shifters on models with that option.

The biggest change BMW has made for 2011 is under the hood, and here is where 335is owners will have some explaining to do on autocross days: The 2011 335i has traded in its twin-turbo setup for a new twin-scroll single turbo setup ala Volvo’s T6 engine. The twin-scroll design uses two exhaust gas inlets on the turbine side of the turbocharger, one each for of three cylinders. BMW says that this increases turbo response and improves efficiency. The new “N55” engine in the 335i delivers the same power output as the former “N54”engine in 2007-2010 335i models, but does so with greater efficiency and a slightly better torque curve. The N55 also brings BMW’s Valvetronic system to the party offering not just variable valve timing, but variable valve lift.

Now here’s where things get a bit complicated: the 335i uses the new N55 engine, the 335is uses a lightly reworked version of the N54 (twin-turbo) engine producing 320HP and 332lb-ft (with an overboost function boosting the torque to 370ft-lbs for 7 seconds) vs the 335i’s 300HP/300lb-ft. Big deal you say? Two words: aftermarket tuning. I am told by an aftermarket chip company that the N54 has a far greater mod potential than the new N55 engine. There are a number of companies out there than will take an N54 engine up to 400+ HP and 400+ lb-ft of torque. For those wanting M3 performance on a “budget” the 335is is now the new foundation.

Compared to the plebeian 335, the “s” gets you a more sculpted front and rear bumper with large cooling vents placed where foglights reside in the regular 335, and a blacked out front grille. Out back there is a sports exhaust system which BMW claims to be unique to the 335is, but forum fans indicate it is available as an aftermarket accessory from BMW. Under the hood the cooling system has gone supersized with a high output fan, upgraded oil cooler, an auxiliary radiator and widened openings in the front bumper.

All this is included because BMW assumes 335is buyers will track their car on weekends, so they need the extra grunt and the stay-cool-bits. Lest we forget the important part, the 335is carries a $7,000 larger price tag. (When adjusted for standard equipment, the premium is around $4,000) Anyone notice something missing? That’s right: no brake upgrades. This is the chink in the 335is’ armour. Basically BMW has created a car that goes faster and handles slightly better with the capacity to drive the car harder, but did nothing to improve the stoppers. Given the extra shove the 335is provides, this is a problem on windy mountain roads where I managed to get the brakes overheated without actually trying. I’m not sure I’d want to track this puppy without addressing the brakes in some manner.

Inside the 335is there are fewer differences from the 335i. The “s” brings the 7 speed DCT transmission from the M3 (with fewer modes however) vs the 6 speed slushbox, an M steering wheel and short shift 6 speed transmission with an M shift lever and some faux-snake skin aluminium dash trim. Other than that the interior is stock 3 series, which is not a bad place to be. The Dakota leather seats are very comfortable, the up-level Harmon Kardon sound system hits all the right notes, and although our tester was a pre-production model without cruise control of any sort, BMW’s web site claims all 335is models will have radar adaptive cruise control standard. Also standard on the 335is, like all 3 series models are just about the worst cup holders available on this continent. I seriously want to know who thought the flimsy pop-out cup holders that are both miles away from the driver, and cause ingress/egress problems for front passengers were a good idea? Gadget hounds will love the new 4th generation iDrive with the high resolution screen and 3D effect navigation maps, and they will probably rave over the automated seat-belt-hander-thing that pops out of the rear. Personally, a car that hands me my seatbelt kind of creeps me out.

On the road, the 335is behaves basically the same as the 335i with the M sport suspension, which makes sense since that’s what it is. Power delivery is effortless, grip is substantial and damping is firm. The 335is equipped with the BMW DCT truly shines; the shifts are not only crisp and practically perfect, but 0-60 times are greatly improved. BMW quotes the standard 335i as 0-60 in 5.3 (manual) and 5.5 (automatic) while the 335is clocks in at 5.1 (manual) which is only a slight improvement, but 5 seconds flat when equipped with the 7-speed dual clutch transmission. What makes this stat impressive is when you consider that this is 5 seconds flat repeatable every time, with perfect launches. After some practice runs I was able to eek a hair under 5.4 seconds (no rollout) to 60 with the 6-speed manual transmission. Apparently I should not quit my day job and race for a living. In my defence however, at these power levels the road surface is your greatest enemy, had the road surface been perfect I’m sure I would have hit 5.2.

On large oval tracks, owners will notice the “s” model gets you a top speed limited to 150 vs the standard 130 (335i models with the M sport package also have a 150MPH limiter), but it’s not the top speed that makes the 335is a great car at the end of the day: It’s the fact that BMW has made an able highway cruiser that handles and accelerates well enough for an occasional weekend at a BMW owners club event. Purists will deride the lack of upgraded brakes, which did bother me, until I came to the realisation that BMW is truly the new Mercedes. Chock full of electronic gizmos, widgets and nannies, well executed designs and high-quality interior parts; this is exactly what I would want Mercedes to make. Except Mercedes would have probably given me decent cup holders.

Readers who are following TTAC on Facebook were given the opportunity to ask reader questions of the 335is. If you would like to ask questions of car reviews in progress, or just follow TTAC, checkout our facebook page. FB fans, here are your answers. Tony J: With our G-Tech accelerometer based performance meter, I recorded a skidpad of .88-.89Gs on an approximately 300ft skidpad (open parking lot). I have seen reviews as high as .93, so road surface of course plays a huge role here. Patrick C: Yes, it actually will do a burnout, fairly easily I might add. Richard M: I drove the 335i to the community pool, but was denied entry.

BMW provided the vehicle, insurance and one tank of gas for this review.

Robert Farago didn’t have many kind words for the cars he reviewed. But, while noting the car’s shortcomings, he lavished quite a few on the Lexus IS-F, even implying that he’d like to own one. How did Lexus’s first attempt at an ultra-high-performance car manage to melt RF’s normally stone cold heart?

Reviewers haven’t been kind to the IS-F’s exterior styling, and RF was no exception. I certainly had a WTF moment the first time I spied the F’s fender gills and diagonally stacked faux exhaust tips. There’s no shortage of tuners without taste, but usually the factory does better. Some changes were made for 2010; why wasn’t the body kit among them?

I had a second WTF moment when the tested car first pulled into my driveway, but this time in a good way. Apparently the right shade of metallic red paint with the right dark gray forged alloy wheels (a new design for 2010) transform this car into a stunner, at least when seen in person (the photos only begin to do it justice). I’d been looking forward to driving the Lexus IS-F. Upon seeing this one, I wanted to drive it badly.

The cleanly styled interior was near the top of the segment five years ago, but seems much less special today. The tested car’s cockpit was nearly all black save for “aluminized composite” trim, which looks like carbon fiber that has been painted silver. Some people liked this trim. Most found it about as tasteful as the body kit. Look closely, and you’ll also spy a touch of the F sub-brand’s signature blue here and there—the gauge needles, a segment of the steering wheel, the seat stitching. Unlike the silver trim, these highlights are overly subtle.

Fantastic front seats manage to both coddle on the highway and grip tightly in the twisties. The gangsta driving position, though it helps lend the IS-F a distinctive, coolly menacing character, has more limited appeal. The tall instrument panel and low anthracite windshield header conspire to constrict the view forward. The side windows are even smaller. Prepubescent children in the cramped back seat can hardly see out.

Twist the key, and all the car’s faults are momentarily forgotten. The 416-horsepower DOHC 5.0-liter V8 sparks to life with gusto, taking a second to proclaim its potency before settling down to idle. This moment is truly something special. Drive the IS-F casually, and it sounds much like other V8-powered Lexus, just a touch louder. Not a bad thing— ever since driving the original LS 400 over two decades ago I’ve felt that Lexus makes some of the best-sounding V8s. There’s engine noise, but thoroughly refined noise, all of it good, none of it tiring.

But if you’re going to drive casually, there’s no point in getting the F. Nail the throttle and wring the engine past 3,600, and a second intake opens up to dramatic effect. The resulting howl is like nothing I’ve ever heard—and I’ve driven over 600 cars in the last decade. Definitely a high-performance V8, but with a depth and polished resonance that make the experience almost surreal. RF cannot be blamed if the aural pleasure provided by this siren’s song led him off his usual path.

The IS-F accelerates so smoothly that only a glance at the speedometer indicates how quick it is. Floor the car from a dead stop, and 40 arrives in a blink with almost no sensation. Only at that point do the senses start to catch up. Just a couple seconds later it’s time to lift your right foot if you want to retain your driving privileges.

No manual transmission is offered, but the eight-speed automatic performs better than most. In casual driving it shifts so seamlessly, topping out in eighth at 42 miles-per-hour, that only the tach and gear indicator suggest that a shift has occurred. Numbers change with more drama in an elevator. Neither the regular nor the sport programming is quite right, and the switch to toggle between them could be much more conveniently located. In normal mode the transmission occasionally feels like it’s lugging the big engine, while in sport mode it tends to hold onto low gears too long. The solution: snick the lever to the left and use the paddles. Under hard acceleration the transmission snaps off shifts quickly and firmly, but still with a modicum of polish. Once again, the sound is truly distinctive, with that howl briefly silenced during the shift as the fuel flow is interrupted.

Fuel economy? It could be worse. I averaged 16.4 with a generous number of full-throttle excursions. Driven sanely, the IS-F manages high teens in the burbs. The last few miles, with the DTE at zero and my manual calculations suggesting the same, I hypermiled the car, and managed 25.4. Idling is a special case. Turn on the AC, and the idle speed jumps from 500 to 800, which takes a rapid toll on the displayed average MPG. Does it really take this much energy to spin the compressor?

Handling? It could be better. Between the Camaro-like driving position and the meaty-but-numb steering, the IS-F feels like a big car that has been magically compacted. It hunkers down in sweepers, but feels unwieldy in tighter turns, and lacks the precise feel a BMW offers. You sense the mass of the V8 up in the nose. On the other hand, even with 371-pound feet of torque distributed by a torsen rear diff (new for 2010) oversteer is much more easily managed than in the considerably less torquey Infiniti G37.

Ride quality is also much better than in a sport-suspended Infiniti G37, unexpected in a car with the F’s aspirations. The suspension is certainly firm, but it’s rarely busy and never harsh. Unless you unleash the V8, noise levels are low, with just a touch of whine from the high-performance treads.

The Lexus IS-F can’t keep all of the promises made within that first second as the V8 roars to life, but it has undeniable charisma. A compact car stuffed full of the brand’s largest V8, insanely quick in a straight line but lacking finesses in curves…we’ve seen this formula before, and it has been a winning one.

Lexus hasn’t so much created an M3 competitor as a 21^st century muscle car—with one critical difference. Open up the V8, and it sounds like nothing else as it rockets the car forward. But drive the IS-F casually, and the car relaxes, and lets you relax, with just enough of a hint of its potential—“I’m here when you want me”–that the experience never becomes ordinary.

Lexus provided the vehicle, insurance and one tank of gas for this review.

Michael Karesh owns and operates TrueDelta, an online source of vehicle reliability and pricing data.

Because car enthusiasts tend to be more interested in cars themselves than the industry that creates them, critics and commentators tend to praise engineers while vilifying accountants, marketers and the countless other professions required to bring a new car to production. The assumption seems to be that engineers develop great cars which are then cheapened, blandified and otherwise screwed up by everyone else. Obviously this is an oversimplified perspective, but in certain cases it’s downright undeniable. Rarely has it been more true than with the Nissan Juke.

Now I know what you’re thinking: the villain of project Juke was the legally-blind eldritch abomination who styled it. Having read initial reactions to the Juke’s styling (and yes, even fanned the flames a bit), it’s clear that the “design issue” dominates perceptions of Nissan’s B-Segment “crossunder” (or, to use Nissan-approved language, “SportCross”). The good news is that, as is becoming increasingly common for new cars, the design works far better in three dimensions than two.

A weird mix of coupe and crossover, the Juke mashes a number of Nissan design cues into a crazed pastiche: the swollen wheel arches and elongated turn signal lights of the Leaf, the rounded rear hatch of the Infiniti crossovers, the 370Z’s tail lights (with a dash of Volvo C30 mixed in) and the Z-meets-Kia Soul greenhouse actually combine for a look that is utterly distinctive, and not entirely unpleasant.

Only the front end remains truly challenging in person, with Nissan-consistent turn signal lights fighting for attention with the protruding, nostril-like round headlights. A more brand-consistent front end end might have broadened the Juke’s appeal in this country, but on the other hand, anonymity kills in the under-publicized subcompact crossover segment (see: Suzuki SX4). But even forgetting the fact that aesthetics are an obviously subjective matter, it simply wouldn’t be fair to blame the Juke’s designers for ruining the car.

That’s because Nissan’s product-planning and market-research teams had fundamentally hurt the Juke before a single stylist had the chance to touch it. According to Nissan’s reps, the Juke was developed with a very specific market in mind: 18-34 year-old males making $45k+, or as Nissan calls them, “Urban Experience Seekers.” This focus is what allowed the daring exterior design, but more importantly it clearly led the development team to emphasize style over substance on nearly every key decision.

This is most clear in the Juke’s packaging, which scrupulously avoids any hint of practicality. The concealed rear door handles lend the Juke a surprisingly coupe-like look, but they also hint at the rear bench’s coupe-like appointments. Knee and headroom are severely constrained for anyone approaching the six-foot mark, and claustrophobes of any size need not apply. Between the pinched-off greenhouse, and a moonroof (standard starting at the midlevel “SV” trim) that brings the headliner even lower (before terminating a few inches from the rear passenger’s forehead), the Juke’s back seat is a dark, unhappy place. Since the rear seats don’t fold flat, and cargo room under the hatch is limited, the Juke clearly wasn’t developed to be used like a real crossover.

Nor was the Juke designed to make good on its lifted, SUV-inspired pretensions. Nissan didn’t provide any opportunity to test the Juke on anything more extreme than rough tarmac, and the PR reps gently fended off inquiries about the Juke’s capability on rough terrain by emphasizing its mission as a “urban crossover.” And with good reason: the black plastic faux-skidplate on the Juke’s nose might look like it’s designed to improve the approach angle, but in reality it merely conceals (rather than protects) a low-hanging radiator that would be immensely vulnerable in even a rock-strewn dirt road scenario. Moreover, Nissan makes no off-tarmac claims about its torque-vectoring all-wheel-drive system, focusing instead on its “enhanced agility” and ability to reduce understeer in on-road cornering.

With its pretensions of crossover practicality and SUV ability stripped away, the Juke’s remaining identity is as a slightly-practical sports coupe with a high seating position, and on this level it works far better than you could possibly expect. Yes Virginia, under the Juke’s shock-factor styling and layers of what can only be properly described as marketing bullshit, Nissan’s engineers have built a truly remarkable little car.

Starting with the platform that underpins the Nissan Versa (a car that precisely nobody praises for its dynamic abilities), Nissan’s engineers widened the track by a full three inches, and were rewarded with a chunky, chuckable little car that is way more entertaining than it has any right to be. Despite the jacked-up bulk required to keep Urban Experience Seekers from feeling like they’re driving something more than a mere car (in AWD/CVT trim it’s a 3,000 lb B-segment car), body roll is practically nonexistent. Though steering is on the light side by enthusiast standards, it’s still sensitive and precise. Using a small steering wheel from the elevated “command-style” driver’s seat lends the Juke a distinctive feel in enthusiastic driving that’s entertaining in a wholly unserious way. Imagine a cross between a MINI and a Subaru Forester XT, and you’re getting the picture.

But if the Juke’s chassis is merely better than you’d expect, its standard 1.6 liter, direct-injected turbocharged four-cylinder engine is without question the single best reason to ignore all of the Urban Experience Seeker twaddle and drive the peculiar little Nissan. Making 188 hp and 177 lb-ft, this little cracker of an engine fizzes with brio and motivates the Juke with aplomb. Turbo lag is minimal, although it’s enough to slow standing launches noticeably. But in return for that sacrifice, a carefully-driven Juke should easily return the 25/30 MPG it’s rated at in its thirstiest trim. Besides, in-gear acceleration is a far more important real-world attribute, and the Juke happily pushes through all six (manual) gears with an infectious, mechanical, zinging whine. If downsized, direct-injected, turbocharged engines are the future (and they are), the Juke’s feisty mill is cause for optimism.

So too is the Continuously Variable Transmission (CVT), which holds its simulated gears with tenacity (particularly in “Sport” mode), keeping the engine’s delightful boost at a constant state of readiness. Once the enemy of enthusiasm (and in underpowered applications like the Cube, it’s still a burden), the CVT’s electronic brains have been well-refined, and it’s an unobtrusive but intuitive partner in any kind of driving style. Which is a very good thing, considering the AWD system (a $1k upgrade) also requires the rubber-band-box (a $500 option). On the other hand, the AWD’s advantages were hardly noticeable even on rough sections of British Columbian back roads, and its extra weight and elimination of under-floor storage in the cargo area count against it.

Given the Juke’s sporting style, it’s tough to recommend anything other than the front-drive, manual transmission drivetrain. Neither torque steer nor understeer is a serious issue in the Juke, and caning the fizzy little engine through six manual ratios is pure pleasure. Like its off-road pretensions and willful styling, the AWD option seems to exist solely to satisfy the subjective wants of Urban Experience Seekers rather than to actually make the Juke a better car. And given its shortcomings in terms of practicality, the extra storage space in FWD models is likely to be used more often than any AWD advantage. Still, the Juke’s abundant driving character comes through in all of its drivetrain configurations.

Base “S” trim Jukes start at $18,960 (plus $750 destination charge), but are available only with the CVT transmission. Though hardly cheap, these models are quite well-equipped, offering iPod/Bluetooth connectivity, a grip of airbags, stability and traction control and a number of other increasingly-common features.

The mid-level “SV” trim adds all of the really worthwhile features like keyless starting, automatic climate control, moonroof, USB iPod control, moonroof and improved steering wheel and upholstery materials. It also adds Nissan’s I-CON system which integrates climate and dynamic controls into a single unit which switches modes and button functions at the push of a button. Though at first it seems like an Urban Experience-related gimmick, the system works on functional, aesthetic and sensible gee-whiz levels. The “SL” trim adds more luxury touches like heated leather front seats and navigation, but we’d spend our hard-earned on the SV-trim FWD version with manual transmission for $20,260 ($200 less than an AWD “S” model).

The Juke’s interior is perhaps a little disappointing at that price point, with lots of mid-grade black plastic that’s been moderately well-assembled. The I-CON system’s knobs are the biggest quality problem inside, as they feel like they’re barely attached to the unit. The instrument panel itself is finished in a piano-black material that adds some needed quality, although navi-equipped models use a head unit that doesn’t match it, ironically making SL-spec interiors look less well-finished. Other questionable Urban Experience interior features include a gearshift surround finished in high-gloss paint that’s said to be motorcycle inspired (for some unexplained reason) and garish chrome door handles. Otherwise, there’s little to complain about.

On the whole, the Juke reinforces the cult of the automotive engineer as much as it reinforces the widely-held belief that automotive marketers are good at screwing up a good thing. Without the marketers, it’s tempting to believe that Nissan’s engineers would have widened the Versa platform, added the fantastic turbocharged engine, and then decided to simply put a steroidal Versa body on top, creating the king of all B-segment hot hatches. Later they might have even added an spacious, practical mass-market crossover with an AWD option.

Instead, the marketers decided to build a car that could be all things to all hip 18-34 year-old urban males, saddling the Juke with extra weight, reduced practicality and a Lovecraftian front end. That the Juke still ends up being as good as it is, is an enduring testament to Nissan’s engineers.

Nissan flew us to Vancouver BC, put us up for a night in an expensive hotel, and wined and dined us in traditional press launch fashion to make this review possible.