The 944 is about balance. GTP driver Derek Bell thought it was the most balanced car he'd ever driven: turbocharging its engine detracts from that balance even if it will make the track 944's 3.0/4 more powerful than the street 911 turbo 3.6/6. The 944 is a car to be driven smoothly. It is a true GT with a range of 600mi, returning 33mpg while cruising, with its engine turning 3krpm in fifth. Its accelerator pedal is levered so that it loafs until it is stirred deeply. This accounts for its personality's multiple facets: refinement in town, spirited performance on the run. It had too much poise at any reasonable speed, so most Americans could appreciate it only for its boutique. Its body was best viewed from above, or from rear quarters. Its exhaust was better heard by on-street on-lookers. For better or worse, the flared and curvaceous body became a symbol of fortunate youth in the 80's, connoting luxury enough to choose European, constraint enough to preclude a 911.

Sunset and Porsche 944 in Appalachian Virginia.

The mid-80's Mercedes sedans are the classics. The turbodiesels before them had too much girth; the C's and S's that followed were, respectively, too market-oriented and too consumptive (despite their obvious allure). The E's and 190's with their 3- and 2.6-liter inline M103 sixes mixed engineering and elegance in an honest way. The SEC coupes were more beautiful and the SL's were more stylish. But the W124- and W201-bodied sixes were more sensible, respectable, and permanent. Sensibility, respectability, permanence. What else is a Mercedes about?

Mercedes taxi at twilight in Saarbruecken.

The 924 set the standard for handling and practicality in a sports car. Fully 200k mi could be extracted from the most entertaining sub-supercar on the road, with a hatchback that could swallow as much as a station wagon, and running costs less than the average VW. Its Harm Lagaay/Tony Lapine lines were accused of blandness, but the styling buck started in no less exotic a shape than that of De Tomaso's Pantera. The main changes were to bring the windscreen upright to match the 911's slant, and to shrink the form to function. Although its shape interpolates the RX7-I's and II's, it has the personality of something better than the masses, as if Frua or Scaglietti had rebodied the Scirocco. Today, it should be highly sought because it is the last European sports car that was not adorned with wings or skirts. With its full-sized, round lamps upright and rear-springs reduced a bit, the stance was all Porsche. The LT100 engine was most useful between 2k and 3.5k, which made it an ideal American sportscar. The 2.5 924S engine was classical music to the orignal's rock-and-roll. With 2400 lbs. of VW parts, it was arguably more classic Porsche than its overweight, overpriced, 80's-excess siblings.

Porsche 924S in Hausmann Paris near Ecole de Militaire.

Sergio Pininfarina said the XJ6 was the most beautiful sedan ever designed. Karmann's Series III redesign of the greenhouse and extension of the wheelbase did not reduce the proportioning miracle of William Lyons and Malcolm Sayer. Whether in short sporting form, recalling the MkII, or on limousine duty, rivalling a Bentley, the XJ6 was a looker, complimenting its occupants and increasing property values wherever it was parked. It was more agile around a corner than all but a few sports cars a half-ton lighter. Its XK engine had the same design that powered all the big cats at Le Mans. The original interiors had vertical wooden dashes that showed their grain, not their glare. The saddle leather seats were equestrian, unlike the lederhosen that populate current luxury models. To this day, Infinitis, Buicks, the new Mercedes E, and even Jaguar's latest XJ6 try to revive Series III styling, with less success.

Jaguar XJ6 on the winter streets of Amsterdam near Leidseplein.

The Alfa is my favorite. (Any statement about the Alfa has to be a personal statement.) This 164 was intended to be an Italian Mercedes E, but it is more of a Duetto for five respectable adults on their way to the opera. On the highway, where the big Alfa will squat down and track straight at speed, where its steering retains its naturally heavy weight, and where its gearbox keeps the gorgeous 3-liter aluminum latinate on the growl, it makes even a Mercedes seem the sloth. Its yellow upholstery can be found elsewhere only on Ferraris. Its lines are racy in the late Italian idiom, elegantly authoritatively masculine. It is proof that beauty is about aesthetic achievement, not anal-retentive perfection or market dominance. Naturally, the Alfa is not the best choice in all of the columns of the spreadsheet. It must apologize for Volvo-indifferent plastics, for outrageous understeer, for the turning circle of an overweight wet duck, and worse electrics than the worst Jaguars. Still, it wears its heart on its hood. It is gregariously gorgeous. It is full love, full passion, Doretta's Song, Chi il bel sogno di Doretta.

Alfa 164 near the French Embassy in Buenos Aires.

This S-class was da bomb, and anyone who drove it knew it. It plowed the highway miles, merciless. It had the most imperious grille. And with torque aplenty for the 3500 lbs, this V8 was already consumptuous enough that only a Mercedes engineer could think that it could be better, if somehow it could grow to be 6.9. It was the car that you could carry Audrey Hepburn in. The President of France could be seen in it, still wearing his top-hat under the generous roof. And if you had the chop-top, yours would be fancied at auction more than any Mercedes since the gull-wing. Was it better than the 60's fin-tailed S's, which were also classics, and the 80's long efficient S's, which were also engineering marvels? I don't think one can say. But it would be equally difficult to say that any other S was better.

Mercedes 280SE 4.5 in University City, St. Louis, Missouri