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The return of the "small-block" V8 to the Impala SS means Chevy is ready to get that respect by force. "Small" is of course a relative term - the Impala's 5.3-liter block (325 cubic inches, for you old schoolers) towers over almost every competitor and shares its stroke, its sound, and most of its name with the Corvette's 6.0-liter version of the same. This living legend's 303 horsepower and 323 pounds-feet of torque slam these 3,790 pounds of steel to 60 in 5.6 seconds, leaving any Impala from the past 48 years choking on a big cloud of Goodyear smoke.
You notice it, all right. You also notice how all the smoke's coming from the front of the car, the lame way the steering wheel tugs itself out of your hands, and how the whole rearward weight shifting thing makes the whole affair more awkward than fun. Then you remember that the Chrysler 300C and Dodge Charger Hemi do the same trick, do it faster, and do it by smoking the correct set of tires. Then you feel sad.
So much for reliving one's glory days. But the "SS" badge does stand for Super Sport, and surely those mean rubbers, dual-rate rear springs, and stiffer stabilizer bars count for something, right?
As in past years, the wheel wells get filled by Goodyear Eagle RS-As (vs. Eagle LS2s on standard models), now bigger than ever at P235/50WR18. They've got enough grip for semi-confident cornering and break away predictably, and the Impala's super-fast steering (2.3 turns lock to lock on all models) relays your inputs to them pronto.
Yet the Impala has earned no edge over other whopper sedans. The wheel has some road feel if you look closely, but the effort doesn't ramp up like realism demands, and the only handling trick in its book is body lean-infested understeer. I remember the tail stepping out only once - over a mid-corner hump that fully compressed the rear struts - and the angle of brake-induced body dive could win an Olympic medal. Finally, such abrupt steering feels more like a liability on narrow, curvy roads, calling for extra concentration to keep the car from darting into opposing traffic. If a real impala were this clumsy, its masthead would hang on a hunter's wall.
And whether taking it fast or slow, the ride could use refinement. The Impala's strut suspenders still bound over huge bumps and hammer over small ones - a dual tendency dating back to the days when this car wore the name "Lumina."
The Impala is more pleasing if thought of as a passenger transporter. When not challenged by specific types of bumps, it sails over the road in the cruiser tradition. Its isolation abilities are decent, as the engine politely fades from notice at steady speeds, with the main disturbance being some minor wind buffeting the body. Finally, the V8's Active Fuel Management system does what it can to rescue the Impala's dismal fuel economy by letting four of the cylinders sleep during light loads. As usual, the technology's cumulative effect was minor (GM claims up to 8% savings), but it helped my highway-biased average squeak up to 21 MPG (mixed driving nets closer to 17), and the transition between 8 and 4 cylinders is barely perceptible.
In the city, the steering is nice and light, and the quickness again becomes an asset. The throttle has well-weighted response and GM's long-running 4-speed Hydramatic transmission executes smooth, well-timed shifts (even if it is short a gear, not to mention a stability control system). In sum, this is mostly another nice, innocuous family sedan.
Really, the only element setting the Impala apart is that V8. In addition to the avalanche of available acceleration, it's always rumbling in a deeper, throatier, and altogether more authoritative voice even under modest acceleration - effectively shouting to the outside world "this is a MAN'S car."
The Impala was made for a man, all right. You call that man "grandpa."
Let's be honest: all of the last Impala's sins in cylinders, drive wheels, and engineering put together didn't add up to half the offense of its appearance. Good god, we're talking about a car so ugly, Toyota Camrys hung around it to boost their self-esteem.
But surgery solves everything, and the 2006 Impala has emerged from the knife drastically easier on the eyes. Credit the cleaned-up face, the sharp Euro taillights, the meatier wheels, or the body's redrawn cutlines, but there's no denying it: the new Impala is Hollywood handsome. Especially in black.
I can't say it got the attention some might hope for, though. Only two individuals took notice of me: a grown man in a Beetle convertible (if you can imagine) mockingly challenging me to drag, and a hopelessly bored cop who felt the need to pull this innocent citizen over for doing 60 in a 50. That's the problem with a car whose exhaust note announces your presence a mile early.
Just as remarkable is the Impala's inner transformation. It's impossible to track all the improvements over last year's unbelievably misshapen mess of a cockpit, but we can try. The steering wheel is now a right-sized four-spoker with far more logical buttons. The stereo and climate controls are both improved in form and function, now match in style, and now live together as a unit. The shifter shed that loose leather teepee, the exposed screws are gone, the window switches are less likely to kill kids, the trunk release is easier to reach, the cupholders are more flexible, the glovebox got extra footage, the seats and console look and feel better, the lettering on every display looks cleaner, we've got three 12V power plugs now, and on it goes.
Still due for a tweak or two: the shallow cupholders, the map pocket with no map room, the unlabeled shifter, the door locks that imprison you when shifting out of Park, and the silly speedometer with glowing MPH and KM/H labels but only one set of numbers. And the motions of all moving parts could stand to feel more expensive. Lastly, it'd be nice if the Active Fuel Management had a more obvious indicator instead of being buried deep down in one of the trip computer's seven screens, where the readout simply switches between "8CYL" and "4CYL." But by and large, this interior works.
Standing in the way of full enjoyment was the eerie feeling I'd been here before. Did anyone notice how most of those Road Test observations are vaguely reminiscent of Buicks? Well, nothing vague here: this is almost the exact same cabin used in the Buick Lucerne, right down to the same gauge layout, same dash cutouts, same steering wheel (except the Impala's doesn't telescope), same GM corporate ratio, nearly identical climate controls and vents, same flat seats... Brand differentiation is a long time coming.
But back to function. The spacious front seats now have comfortably padded armrests and more backward travel than any car I can remember. The leather feels fine. On a long-distance trip, the driver's seat caused me the least back pain among all GM cars so far. The passenger finds new protection in an auto-off air bag, and both bags are now the dual-force type. The OnStar system is now Generation 6 and Chevrolet offers its remote-entry start option for warming the engine and cooling the cabin.
The back seat marks another night-and-day difference. Last year's Impala achieved Large Car measurements, but did so the cheap and easy way: by truncating the cushion and gluing it to the floor. The 2006 Impala now has a real bench made for real humans - three of them - and it's high, long, firm, and set at the perfect recline. Even the three (fixed) head restraints are comfortable, and the back portions flip-and-fold effortlessly. The front chairs could use more footroom scooped out underneath and legroom seems kind of mid-size-ish, but five folks have never been happier in an Impala as now.
The strut-suspended trunk has always been unabashedly full-size, and with 18.6 cubic feet, so it remains. The opening's a bit wider now.
Like most 2006 GM cars, the Impala enjoys an audio overhaul. Though many features aren't standard, all models get six speakers, a friendly head unit, and an Aux input jack for portable players; most can also play MP3 discs right out of the box. Just one thing: GM's inexplicable habit of turning to a different supplier for the "premium" audio upgrade on every car has resulted in the Impala's blatty Bose blasters getting blown away by superior Pioneers in the half-priced Cobalt. The Chevrolet hierarchy needs maintenance.
My evaluation of GM's last entry in the field of big cars, the aforementioned Buick Lucerne, uncovered a decent car that simply priced itself out of contention. But if the Impala illustrates anything, it's the beauty of a big, bumbling bureaucracy: LOOPHOLES, BABY!
Check this out: Buick charges 26 grand for the stripper slug model (most in class), and if you want a real engine and all the fun toys, you're looking at 35 (also most in class). Now take the Impala, where a paltry 21 grand gets the base LS and the big kahuna SS can be had for 27 - ka-ching! In Buick's defense, the Lucerne rides on a better platform that only dates back to 1995 (vs. 1988), has some better chassis parts, and consequently feels a little more composed. But when two GM cars pretty much look and feel the same to the driver and are dead even for space, heck, why not buy the Impala and use the leftover change to pick up an Aveo?
This also makes the Impala the best buy among the cars with which it actually shares architecture, the smaller yet more expensive Pontiac Grand Prix and Buick LaCrosse (in industry lingo, the "W-cars"). As for why GM felt the urge to stretch one of its mid-size cars into a biggie to cannibalize everyone, your guess is as good as mine.
Here's the line in more detail. The Impala LS ($20,990) still starts with an iron-block pushrod V6, now at 3.5 liters and equipped with variable valve timing. Note that you're stuck with six-passenger seating here.
The LT costs $500 more for the addition of dual-zone climate controls, cargo net, floor mats, temperature display and compass, and Remote Start. On the same LT level, it's a $2,900 leap to buy the 3.9-liter, 242-horsepower version of the same engine (the most horrid-sounding V6 I've heard in years, by the way) along with antilock brakes, dual exhaust, tire pressure monitor, 17-inch wheels, spoiler, steering wheel controls, MP3 playback, folding back seats, and individual front seats.
Another $2,100 gets the LTZ ($26,490) for heated outside mirrors, auto-dimming mirror, HomeLink transmitter, Bose stereo, XM radio, and leather seats.
The final $500 gets the SS ($26,990) with the big bad V8, stiffer suspension, biggest spoiler, 18-inch wheels, and "techno-metallic" instrument panel and doors. Note that the SS gives up everything the LTZ added.
Impala's the cheapest all right - those numbers undercut the Ford Five Hundred, Hyundai Azera, and Toyota Avalon by four-digit figures across the board. Oh, the Impala has one more surprise up its sleeve: it's the most reliable. Yes, you read correctly. GM apparently has no problem building durable American machinery as long as it's put together in Canada, for the folks in Oshawa, Ontario have been cranking out well-screwed-together W-cars all decade long. And because Toyota's been trippin on its first year of Avalons (checked the news lately?), the Impala has, for the moment, squeaked into first place.
The SS is supremely silly and there's too much engineering mediocrity to get excited about. But with most of the weak points fixed and two substantial strengths upheld, the Impala name again stands for something.
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