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I deliberately scheduled this Volvo test to begin the same day I was to return the Focus to the Ford fleet - what better way to contrast two siblings? Well, I'm no biologist, but I couldn't detect more than a mild trace of Focus DNA in this Volvo. Behind the wheel, there's little resemblance. Steering that sings with Mariah Carey-like passion in the Ford got reduced to a Paula Abdul simulation in the Volvo. The V50's electro-hydraulic assistance is the likely cause (the Focus remains pure hydraulic), though judged on its own, the Volvo steers nicely and neatly. Unlike the unyielding gas pedal in the Focus, the V50's throttle tip-in might be the most gradual I've ever experienced - still a little extreme, but far more preferable. If its response were just a little quicker, it would feel as perfect as the brakes, which stop the car seriously short. Aside from these traits, the two cars would have been closer if our V50 didn't have all-wheel-drive or the turbo.
But it did, and here's where this V50 really sets itself apart: speed! It's a little hard not to notice an extra 88 horses (218 total), especially when they let you scoot to 60 MPH in 6.9 seconds. There are the occasional sudden power surges endemic to any automatic-turbo car, but when the turbo's spooled up, the V50's 8 psi of boost rockets it forward at a competitive pace, leaving its sibling and predecessor far behind.
The engineers seem to have worked with Audi's old game plan: power delivery comes courtesy of five cylinders. The good news is that with 2.5 liters of engine onboard (up a half-liter on Audi's new engine), the V50 feels more capable when driving off the boost. The bad news is that there's less reason to turn it on, as the engine's flat and undistinguished tone pales next to Audi's intoxicating growl. For sonic satisfaction, five cylinders is either one too many or one too few.
Handling, too, takes on the theme of passive excellence. Our V50 had the sporty parts contained in the Dynamic Trim Package (17-by-7-inch wheels hung by a stiffer suspension), and grip falls just short of sports car territory. It takes a lot of effort to break loose, and if the all-wheel-drive doesn't catch you, the stability control will. Again the V50 proves the opposite of the tail-twitchy Focus: despite the superior weight balance of our all-wheel-drive wagon, only the front end goes when traction (finally) runs out, the phenomenon known as understeer. Makes sense. Understeer is perceived as less of a control-loss situation than oversteer, which no doubt sits better with the Safety First crowd.
Likewise, the V50's all-wheel-drive was chosen for peace of mind over performance. As on other Volvos, the V50 uses a Haldex unit that sends all power to the fronts until they slip, then sends as much as half to the back. (Audi's, by contrast, splits it both ways by default.)
Speaking of safety, there are four elements to the two optional stability systems. V50s with STC (Stability and Traction Control) get TC and SC; V50s with DSTC (Dynamic Stability and Traction Control) get those two plus AYC and EBA. TC, or Traction Control, works like your average limited-slip differential by transferring power left or right to the wheel with greater grip. SC, or Spin Control, works like what a lot of makers call traction control by reducing torque to the wheels. AYC, or Active Yaw Control, makes the greatest contribution by braking individual wheels strategically to prevent skids. Finally EBA, or Emergency Brake Assistance, is there to ramp up braking force when a panic stop is sensed. Of the four, Traction Control is the only one that actually turns off when you hit the dashboard switch.
No matter how you drive, the 5-speed Geartronic automatic gets two thumbs up for its savvy gear picking and for the absolute freedom it grants. Push it to the limits and it never upshifts or downshifts for you. If you're so inclined, you can even stress the innards by launching the car in third gear. The Germans don't let you do any of this.
I'd say this is one car better off without the sport package, which doesn't do the ride any favors. It probably doesn't qualify as harsh, but there's a lot of rockin and rollin goin on. Lexus owners would not approve. At least the suspension is refined in its transactions, thumping solidly instead of crashing or banging like some cheaper cars might.
Gas mileage was a schizophrenic mystery, jumping from 19 to 28 to 23 to 29 MPG over four fill-ups despite few changes in driving style. On the first tank, the gauge fluctuated randomly between empty and full, and the trip computer was also tripping, as six hours at 80 MPH netted an "average speed" reading of 34 MPH. Through it all, though, averaging 25 miles per gallon in mostly high-speed running sounds about right.
Despite the imperfections, I never felt that I was driving anything less than a premium car.
Both the feelings of premium-ness and Audi-ness continue to the inside. Sometimes that means making you work more work than necessary, like cranking an annoying knob to adjust passenger seat angle. Other times that means the car doing more work than asked, like a turn signal that always blinks three times. The rest of the time, it just means pleasing, high-class surroundings. It's original, too.
Volvo did all the work here; none of the Focus's K-mart parts made the cut. Our V50's grippy "T-tec" cloth is a unique nylon-like material that's as grippy as it is comfortable; I wouldn't pass it up (leather's optional). The well-shaped seats are kind to your bottom and back. Not so much to your top, though: if you lean back to relax, the far-forward head restraints slump the neck forward. (Is Volvo implying its owners are stiffs?)
Ergonomics please and intrigue in equal measures. The smooth-operator key slot sits nice and high on the dash. The chime is among the nicest I've heard. Phone-style ergonomics control the radio (hooray, ten presets!) while the climate controls are marked with intuitive diagrams. A computer menu screen divides them and it all sits on a thin, genuine strip of aluminum that hides some storage space behind it. It's apparent that the Swedish way differs from the German or Japanese way. It's also apparent that nothing in here is in danger of collapsing like a piece of IKEA furniture.
I only have three complaint areas: the window switches activate their auto-up mode too easily. The stereo takes a while to find its presets, and when reception isn't crystal clear, it abandons its search and leaves you with silence. And the numerous steering wheel buttons are identical to the touch. Some might not like how the back windows barely go more than halfway down, though that might give some parental security.
Three big guys overwhelm the back seat in this relatively narrow car, but for smaller adults and kids it's a whine-free zone. The seats are firm and supportive, feet can tap around under the front seats, and the driveline hump down the middle is nearly as modest as that of a front-wheel-drive car - nice packaging there. Everyone has adjustable head restraints, and here in back they're positioned correctly. Verdict: you might not fit but it's great if you do. Tumble it all down and the cargo hold expands from 14.7 cubic feet to 25.3, says Volvo. The latter number sounds like an underestimation; maybe they were measuring something else? Two other sources list 46.2 and 62.9, and that last one sounds about right. The V50 swallowed my four-person weekend getaway and all our stuff with no problem.
The V50 line mirrors the three-tier plan of the S40 line: front-drive (2.4i), front-drive turbo (T5), and all-wheel-drive turbo (T5 AWD). Kind of like the old Mitsubishi Eclipse. The 5-cylinder engine on the T5 models displaces 2.5 liters instead of 2.4.
The V50 2.4i, coming only as an automatic, packs 166 horsepower and 170 pounds-feet of torque, which is enough to get by. With this hardware setup, the V50 starts at $26,685. The turbocharger costs $2,820, as the T5 model starts at $29,505 after adding the expensive $1,200 automatic. All-wheel-drive costs a final $1,775 as the automatic V50 T5 AWD begins at $31,280. Prices for the tons of option packages vary in a most complicated manner; let's not go into it.
The V50's price, fortunately, excuses it from comparison with BMW's 325iT and Mercedes's C240 wagons. Coming closest are a pair of Audis. The V50 seems most like the A3: two cars with derived genes (Focus, Jetta), strut front suspensions, and transversely-mounted engines. But the A3 is front-drive and the A4 all-wheel-drive while the V50 is both. Dimensionally, the V50 slots inbetween, as it does in price between an automatic A3's $26,860 and an A4's $32,370. The next-closest rival is that other Swedish-branded anomaly, the Subaru Impreza-based Saab 9-2X, which competes with the two front-drive V50s. A 9-2X Linear starts at $24,935, a 9-2X Aero at $28,895, somewhat undercutting the V50 in both cases. Just to name an easy target, the V50 is clearly a better car than the new Jaguar X-Type wagon, priced at a comical 37 grand.
For the brand-blind, there's also the Impreza WRX itself, which threatens the V50 T5 AWD from $5,000 below. And against the non-turbo V50, you can knock off a good six grand by sticking to the V50's platform siblings, the Ford Focus and Mazda 3 wagons, which hover around $20K even after optioned out with all their safety gear.
Oh, safety - we're not done there! If it wasn't obvious, V50s come standard with antilock brakes, four save-your-butt driving systems, integrated child booster seats, 3-point belts and head restraints in all seats (the rears are adjustable), and air bags up the wazoo: two adaptive ones in front (two stages of force; the passenger's side deactivates if no one is present), two in the front-side, and two Inflatable Curtains on the side for everyone's head. The steering column and pedals collapse in a crash, the front belts have pre-tensioners, and the "WHIPS" front seats absorb rear-end whiplash. Volvo even crash-tested a V50 without the engine to see how far the structure would crumple, then redesigned the engine to be untouchable in such an event.
Those are the promises; here's how the Volvo (S40) delivered in NHTSA crash tests. Driver: 4 stars. Passenger: 5 stars. Front-side: 5 stars. Rear-side: 5 stars. Now for the IIHS. Overall frontal protection: Good. Side: Acceptable. Rear: Good. That's the highest or next-to-highest score in every test. That's cum laude.
And it sets the class curve. The Audi A4 comes close with 4/4/5/4 stars and Good/Good/Marginal. The Jaguar trails behind with 4/4/4/4 and Good/Marginal/Poor. (No one has tested the A3 or Saab.) The Subaru did well, though its scores are incomplete: 4/5/4/NA and Good/Good/NA. The Mazda got 3/4/3/3 and Good/Poor/Marginal - a bomb in any book - and Ford did almost as badly, with 5/4/3/4 and Good/Poor/Marginal. But on the Focus you can't get curtain air bags, and its back seats don't even have head restraints.
Volvo against the Saab and Audis is a close call. Volvo against its Ford and Mazda siblings mostly comes down to a simple question: would you risk your child's life to save $6,000?
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