The 2014 Cadillac CTS arrived again in my driveway this month like some sort of intergalactic space ship. Silvery. Swoopy. Otherworldly. It’s been half a year since I was last visited by this visage, but it has lost none of its wonder.
My 2013 Detroit News Vehicle of the Year is still the most stunning, midsize luxury sedan on the road. It’s perfectly-proportioned, angular face looks like it was designed by Angelina Jolie’s “Maleficent” makeup team. Beauty with a touch of menace. The LED headlights glow. The key in my pocket automatically opens the locks. Like a magnet, the CTS pulls me into its space-age interior. I push the start button and blue ambient lighting shimmers through the cabin as the Cue infotainment system awakes with a chime right out of “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.” The auto-tightening seatbelts conform to my torso. Take me to the moon.
But when I stomp on the pedal to initiate Warp Speed something is different. This starfighter is motivated by a, um . . . four-banger?
Sure enough. Where my $63,895 Vehicle of the Year came with a lusty, 3.6-liter, direct injection V6, my new, $65,425 steed bears the four’s coarse, unmistakable woodpecker-like thrum as the CTS rapidly pulls away from dock and into the stratosphere. Packing 272 turbocharged horses, the four doesn’t lay about, vaulting its cargo from 0-60 in 6.2 seconds – just .2 seconds shy of the V6 (numbers courtesy of our pals at Car & Driver). Impressive. But the sticker price still begs the question: Does four belong in a first-class, midsize sedan?
In autodom these days four is the new six. Under relentless pressure from Washington’s righteous greenies, automakers must meet fuel-sipping, 52-mpg fuel efficiency mandates by 2025 while still satisfying performance-hungry customers. The powerful, fuel-efficient 2.0-liter turbo has been the popular answer, powering everything from compact VW hot hatches to midsize Ford Fusions.
But Caddy is a rare four-pot pioneer in big car luxury (joined only by BMW and its five-series). Other automakers shy from equipping their luxes with quads. “Our luxury customers want the performance of a six or eight-cylinder engine,” said Hyundai Motor America Chief Dave Zuchowski upon introducing the Korean automaker’s gorgeous 2015, $38,000-base Genesis with a silky-smooth V6 this spring.
“But that’s a Hyundai!” I can hear Caddy marketers murmuring. They have to sell V6 luxury to gain separation from their econobox stereotype. GM, on the other hand, has been selling dynamite 2-liter turbos in its upscale Buick Regal GS and entry-level lux Caddy ATS. Our customers know our performance brands. They trust our technology.
And so, apparently, they do.
Since its launch last year, Caddy has sold two turbo-fours for every six-cylinder (60 percent of sales, compared to 30 percent for the V6 with the wicked, neck-snapping, twin-turbo V6 gobbling the last 10 percent). It seems the four belongs with the swells. Welcome to the ball, Cinderella.
I would offer this caveat, however.
In replacing the CTS’s old, 270 horsepower, 3.0-liter six, the blown four has given the lightweight, 3,731-pound midsize a base engine with plenty of get-up-and-go and better fuel economy to boot. But not that much better. Surprisingly, the turbo four gains only one mpg (23 vs. 22) on the new, 320-horsepower V6 as Caddy engineers have tuned the fab four for low-end torque over fuel efficiency.
Load up the $46,025 base four with the same futuristic options as the six – road-hugging magnetorheological dampers, blind spot assist, and so on – and the fuel savings will seem negligible compared to the $60 grand sticker price. And that four-banger buzz in your ear may start to annoy you. Four may belong in mid-size lux, but six is still worth the price.
Speaking of annoying, I can’t bid adieu to my second CTS date without a comment about her Cue system. The unique, space-age, touch-operated system is the most radical infotainment console this side of the Tesla Model S “iPad” console. It is also the most controversial given its steep learning curve and sometimes inexact haptic response.
But just as the haptic keys on my Samsung Galaxy smartphone sometimes betray me, Cue’s faults pale compared to its cool factor. While gripping the road with BMW-like tenacity, the touchscreen CTS has left Caddy’s senior-citizens’ image on Planet Fuddy Duddy.
The new generation of Cadillac is a LED-lit, e-operated, magnetic-riding UFO. But I’ll still take mine with a six, please.
Henry Payne is auto critic for The Detroit News. Find him at email@example.com or Twitter @HenryEPayne.