We’ve seen the sequence too many times before. Enthusiasts beg GM and Ford to offer their international products in the U.S. They offer one. It fails to sell. It gets canceled. Nevertheless, Ford plans to replace its entire small-to-midsize lineup with vehicles developed in and primarily for Europe. So this time it had better work out. First up: the subcompact Fiesta.

In hatchback form, the Fiesta is the segment’s best-looking car. There’s a lot going on, but none of the numerous eye-catching details warrants a “WTF?” The exterior’s complex curves meld to form a well-proportioned, cohesive whole. I could study the rear quarters for days. In “lime squeeze” or “yellow blaze” (the “blue flame” of the tested car isn’t the best choice) the athletic egg screams, “Let’s play.” Unlike with Detroit’s previous attempt at a playful small car, the original Dodge Neon, there’s also sophistication to spare. Good thing, because Euro-market cars cannot be profitably sold at Neon prices.

The relatively upscale aesthetics continue inside the Fiesta, though the materials don’t all keep pace and the silver plastic has been laid on a bit thick. The padded armrests on the doors and the contrasting piping and stitching on the optional leather seats are nice touches. Unfortunately, style in some cases trumps function. Sure, SYNC is a big plus, but the audio controls bring the unintelligibility of iDrive to the masses (I gave up). And the decidedly non-premium HVAC controls are a stretch. A first in my experience: there are no manual door locks. If the battery dies or a power lock actuator fails, how can you lock the car? (Pulling on an interior door handle unlocks the door even with the power out.)

The laid back windshield forces a deep IP, which distances the driver from the road. But, despite the small windowlettes ahead of the doors, you’re still clearly piloting a conventional car rather than an MPV. It helps that the A-pillars seem thinner and less intrusive than most these days, and that the driving position is lower than the segment average. The raked beltline and tall rear headrests impair rearward visibility, but not dreadfully so. Standard spotter mirrors more than compensate. The front seats pass muster, though enthusiasts will wish for more lateral support.

The price of the athletic exterior: an adult-unfriendly rear seat. The cushion is low, and you’ll find more knee room in some sports cars. (Unexpected consolation prize: rear reading lights.) The cargo area is similarly much less commodious than in a Honda Fit, though there’s a little more space behind the rear seat than in the related Mazda2.

Over on Ford’s UK site, you’ll find the Fiesta’s 120-horsepower 1.6-liter four described as “mighty.” But then the range across the ponds starts with a 60-horsepower 1.2-liter. Even fresh from a 100-horsepower Mazda2, “mighty” didn’t cross my mind when driving the Fiesta. To give credit where credit is due, the Ford’s 1.6 revs with more verve and zing than the Mazda’s smoother 1.5, and thanks to a plumper midrange doesn’t sink into a hole when you shift from first to second. But power is still adequate at best by American standards. “At best” meaning AC off and no incline. Turn on the AC and the engine loses its will to rev.

Both transmissions need a re-think. With the five-speed manual, shift throws are long, the gaps between ratios are overly wide given the torque-to-weight ratio, and the upshift light soon proves annoying. The “PowerShift” six-speed dual-clutch automated manual (think VW’s DSG, but with less expensive, lower maintenance dry clutches) could have been a high point. But while this transmission makes the most of the not-so-mighty engine, and enables top-notch EPA numbers (29/40), its overly frequent shifts lack finesse. A manual mode would help, but—in a first for this sort of transmission—none is offered. Consider this the first but not last clue that driving enthusiasts haven’t been invited to this Fiesta.

All of the above I could live with, as long as the chassis delivers on the promises made by the sheetmetal. Despite glowing initial reviews, in final production tune it doesn’t. Compared to the related Mazda2, the Fiesta is soft, even squishy. Especially when paired with the SE’s 15-inch Kumho tires, the electric-assist steering feels relatively dull and imprecise. Twitch the wheel one way and then the other, and the car wobbles as delayed reactions trip over one another while working their way through the chassis. In curves, the Kumhos plow early and often. The SES’s stiffer, grippier 16-inch Hankooks (still not ideal treads) delay the onset of understeer, but even with them the Fiesta doesn’t quite come alive. Granted, the average American driver will notice nothing amiss. But for anyone with an interest in driving, the Fiesta’s handling falls short of (admittedly high) expectations.

What your average American driver will notice: a smooth, refined, quiet ride. The Mazda2 doesn’t ride badly, but the Fiesta is a Lexus in comparison, especially on the highway. The exterior promises a driving experience that is both athletic and upscale. The chassis might fail to deliver on the former, but certainly does on the latter.

So, can the latest Euro Ford make it on this side of the Atlantic? Well, if Americans prioritized functionality and handling we’d be awash in tautly suspended compact wagons. As it is, Ford won’t even be offering the new Focus wagon here. Sharp styling, an upscale ambiance, handling tuned to keep inexperienced drivers alive, a plush ride, and iWhatever connectivity matter more, and the Fiesta delivers these. So it will likely succeed where the Merkur, Astra Lemans, Contour, Catera, G8, and Astra redux (have I forgotten any?) failed. Which would be fitting, because a European Ford has done well here before: the original Fiesta.

I’d prefer more power and a roomier back seat, so I’ve personally been looking forward to the similarly styled, one-size-larger 2012 Focus. But after driving the Fiesta I’m worried. Please, Ford, don’t muck up the handling.

Frank Cianciolo, an excellent salesperson at Avis Ford in Southfield, MI, provided the car for this review. Frank can be reached at 248-226-2555.

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

I’ve been known to complain every now and then that cars in general have grown too heavy and, partly as a consequence, boring to drive. Hardly any engage the driver like the 2003 Mazda Protege5 in my driveway does. Even the burgeoning crop of B-segment cars, including the much-lauded Honda Fit, has disappointed in this regard. And so we come to the latest contender, the Mazda2, at 2,306 pounds the lightest 2011 car you can buy with a back seat.

The U.S. gets only a five-door hatch. For which we should be thankful; the Mazda2 sedan offered elsewhere is rather hard on the eyes. In hatchback form, a truncated tail balances the high, blunt front end. Like the “man maximum, machine minimum” Hondas of yore, the Mazda2 is nearly all passenger compartment. Though headlamp assemblies that extend nearly to the front axle along arched front fenders and the complex surfacing of the doors provide some visual interest, the exterior is much cleaner than the Mazda3’s. Select the vibrant green to render it visible to the general population.

As might be expected given the sub-$15,000 price, the Mazda2’s interior is about as spartan as they come. There’s a minimal center console, no center armrest, and a wide band of painted metal (green in the case of the tested car) visible around the rear window. Simple, somewhat clunky controls are logically arranged close at hand, such that buttons absent from the steering wheel are not missed (but are including on the uplevel Touring nevertheless). “Cheap” or “functional?” Take your pick.

As might be expected given the compact exterior dimensions, the Mazda2’s interior is about as tight as they come in a car with rear doors. Only the related Ford Fiesta offers a more cramped rear seat. At 5-9, I can sit behind myself with about an inch to spare. The rear seatback is very low, and adults must raise the headrest lest it dig uncomfortably into the upper back. Cargo volume, though easily sufficient for runs to the grocery store, doesn’t approach that in the far more spacious Honda Fit. Up front, taller drivers might wish that the center console were less intrusive or at least padded. But the seats aren’t bad, with decent levels of comfort and lateral support.

The good stuff begins with the driving position. The pillars are thin by current standards. Though the windshield is far from upright, Mazda has managed to get by without windowlettes ahead of the doors. The view over the low, compact instrument panel is more, even much more conventional than you’ll find elsewhere in the segment. There’s no sense that you’re driving an MPV.

Even better, with the 2’s handling Mazda has recaptured much of the flavor lost in the transition from Protege to 3. Around town the feel through the precise, light-yet-communicative steering is delightfully agile. Though it leans a bit in hard turns, and the 185/55VR15 tires provide a limited amount of grip, the Mazda2 is easily the best-handling car in the segment. It alone handles the way small cars used to, and ought to. The U.S.-market Ford Fiesta feels soft, imprecise, and dull in comparison.

The price for such handling must usually be paid in ride quality. But not this time; around town the Mazda2 rides much more smoothly and quietly than the Protege, and is about average for the current class. I say “around town” because at highway speeds the car gets blown about a bit and the ride becomes notably less absorbent. With the manual, the engine is turning 3,000 rpm at 70 mph in fifth, so there’s also some engine noise.

Then, the fumble. The 1.5-liter four-cylinder, with a peak output of only 100 horsepower, is weakest-in-class. Despite the car’s low curb weight, this engine feels even weaker than the specs suggest. Below 3,500 rpm there’s nothing. Above 3,500 there’s not much more. Compounding the problem, the spread between first and second gear is unusually wide. Shift at 5,000 rpm, and you end up dead in the water at 3,000. To avoid falling into this hole, it’s necessary to shift near the 6,300 rpm redline. The engine is smooth, but even around its peak it provides no joy. Like those of more powerful (yet still overburdened) powertrains in competitors, the EPA ratings fail to impress: a less-than-stellar 29/35. A sixth gear would also help here.

The $14,730 base price is at least low, undercutting a similarly-equipped Chevy Aveo by $560. Adjusting for feature differences (using TrueDelta.com’s car price comparison tool more than doubles the Mazda’s advantage—it has standard stability control, while the Aveo manual isn’t even available with ABS. Equip a Fiesta similarly then adjust for feature differences and the Mazda has about a $250 advantage. A Honda Fit is about a grand more.

We’re left pondering the great car that easily might have been. With little apparent faith in the car, Mazda appears to have spent the bare minimum to adapt the 2 for the U.S. market. The excellent chassis deserves a much better powertrain. With even the 119-horsepower 1.6 from the Fiesta the 2 would be much better. With a 1.8 (as offered by Nissan and Scion) it would be delightful. With the Mazda3’s 148-horsepower 2.0 it would scream. Even a stronger 1.5 paired with better gearing might suffice. As is, enthusiasts will pass on the Mazda2 because of the gutless powertrain while non-enthusiasts will prefer the more stylish Ford Fiesta or much more practical Honda Fit. Hopefully Mazda will interpret the resulting low sales to mean they need to fix the problem, and not discontinue the car.

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

The third-generation Camaro, so much swoopier than anything else on the road back in 1982, looked more like a concept car than a production car. The throaty V8, though pitifully weak by today’s standards, at the time was easily capable of getting a 14-year-old’s pulse racing. Some critics dinged the car for its impractical packaging, size, and weight, but I didn’t care. I wanted one, badly. Never did get one. By the time I could afford a Camaro, I agreed with the critics. From frenzied test drives in the Toyota Corolla GT-S and Honda CRX I learned the joys of high-revving multi-valve engines and agile handling. GM recently introduced a fifth-generation Camaro. What has it learned in the last 28 years?

In form and spirit, the 2010 car’s big, bold exterior is very much that of a Camaro. My 14-year-old self would have loved it. I thought my kids would love it, but instead they seemed puzzled that a car with such exaggerated styling could exist outside of a cartoon. Many people do clearly love the look of the new car, and virtually everyone has a strong opinion about it. GM deserves credit for crafting a shape that is at once current and readily identifiable with its ancestors. The lesson not learned: the racier the styling, the shorter the shelf life. Sales have been strong so far, but where will they be in 2012?

Size remains a big issue. Compared to previous generations, the new Camaro is about as long (190.4”), wider (75.5”) and heavier (3,860 lbs.). The original Camaro was based on a compact car platform. The new one is based on GM’s largest car platform. You’d never guess that gas prices reached record highs during the car’s gestation. Another lesson not learned.

Check out the 2010 Camaro’s back seat, preferably from a safe distance, and as with past iterations you’ll wonder where all of those exterior inches went. Adults who don’t regularly practice yoga simply don’t fit beneath the low roof. My skinny nine-year-old son complained about the lack of room and his inability to see out of the small, high-mounted windows. His comment on the car: “Everything is big except what you want to be big, and that’s small.”

Slide between the widely-spaced bolsters of the front seat, though, and you’ll wonder if the Camaro was designed for giants. You sit low behind a hulking instrument panel. Both the deeply dished steering wheel and shifter are super-sized: Camaro drivers best have big, manly hands. The retro-styled interior possesses some interesting elements, but it’s overly plasticky. The silver-painted trim bits are so thick they come across as clunky. The bulging center stack with its pair of oversized round HVAC controls (I’ll avoid references to the female anatomy) appears more 1990s GM than late 1960s. Sometimes there’s a fine line between retro and dated. The most attractive part of the interior: the door sill trim plates. Too bad they’re no longer visible once you clunk the door shut.

The windshield is much more upright than with the third-generation Camaro, and perhaps even the second—a retro touch I can definitely live with. Sitting low and gazing over a long hood as the V8 rumbles provides a badass feeling you just cannot get in a Mustang. Visibility? It’s as bad as everyone says, but still livable.

When paired with the six-speed manual, the 2010 Camaro’s 6.2-liter V8 puts out 426 horsepower at 5,900 rpm. Years ago GM claimed they could get pushrod engines to breathe well at high rpm, and they’re rightly proud of the peak output they’ve been able to wring from this one. But there are downsides to this approach. With only two valves per cylinder, breathing cannot be optimized separately for low and high rpm. So tune for high rpm breathing and the low end suffers. The 6.2’s torque peak is a fairly lofty 4,600 rpm, so there are only 1,300 rpm between the peaks.

Then there’s the way the Camaro’s engine sounds and feels when racing for the redline. Its raucous roar (with stray mechanical undertones) borders on violent, with much of this violence seemingly directed towards the engine’s own internals. Put another way, under hard acceleration at high rpm the big V8 sounds like it wants to tear itself apart. At the other end of the spectrum, the idle is a bit lumpy, which is typical of a cammy old-school V8.

Shift feel is similarly unrefined. Throws are moderate in length, but can feel clunky, and in casual driving it takes conscious effort to shift the car smoothly. Go too easy on the throttle in first and the shifter will take you straight to forth, an old GM trick to bump the EPA rating. The V8 is torquey, but shifting into fourth so early still lugs it. Even if this feature is avoided—and I didn’t encounter it at all the first few days I had the car—the gearing feels too tall. Fuel economy ranged from 13 in hard driving to low 20s on the highway. Figure 16 and change in moderately aggressive driving around town—nearly the same I observed in an Altima Coupe.

Then there’s the chassis, which seems to have received all of the refinement the rest of the car did not. The nicely weighted steering doesn’t communicate much, and the Camaro handles like the large, heavy car that it is. But body roll is restrained without killing the ride quality, and the precision with which the car can be steered with the right foot (a trait shared with the late, lamented Pontiac G8 and the Corvette) should serve as an example for other manufacturers. (Nissan, I’m talking to you.) Add in good balance and very grippy tires, and you’ll rarely come anywhere near the Camaro’s limits on public roads.

In the final analysis, outside of the chassis GM hasn’t learned much in the last 28 years. Some things they didn’t need to learn. The driving position might compromise visibility, but without it the Camaro wouldn’t be a Camaro. And a Camaro should be boldly styled and chock full of big, vocal V8. But the fifth-generation car is at least a half-size too large, a few hundred pounds too heavy, and far too unrefined. Sure, a Camaro should be raw, but not raw all over. Like hair that has been painstakingly styled to appear disheveled, rawness must be carefully distributed. The bits that enhance the driving experience should be retained, even amplified—as raw as it is, the Camaro could feel more visceral. But the other rough edges, that cheapen the car and disrupt the driving experience, should be excised. The good news: the chassis would be the hardest thing to fix with the refresh that needs to happen before the styling goes stale.

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

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