The Best Odds: 1992

From the March/April 2026 issue of Car and Driver. Back in the day, Subaru was as weird as a spaghetti sandwich. Goofy weird, not creepy weird. Consider the 1985–91 Subaru XT, which wanted only a coin slot to qualify as a pinball machine. Or the '87–94 Subaru Justy, sort of a Japanese Citroën Deux Chevaux with an optional continuously variable automatic transmission—my first zero-gear adventure. The Justy made as much sense as preplanned headaches, yet you couldn't drive it without smiling. Or consider the Subaru Alcyone SVX (al-SY-uh-nee, but you knew that, right?), known stateside as just the SVX. You remember: Weird windows. A study-hall sketch from the happy clinic? At the car's U.S. debut, Subaru seemed bowled over that anyone showed up. "It's, uh, a coupe," stammered the program manager. "Two doors. Coupe." He described the available speed-variable steering, which was as gratifying as a Porsche 911 Carrera 2's, and the 4EAT transmission, whose high-IQ clutch pack could apportion generous front-to-rear torque splits and was maybe as complicated as the gearing in a Kenworth W900. For Sale Near You See all results for SVX for sale near 43204 "Have you identified a niche in the personal-coupe market?" I asked. "What?" replied the chassis engineer. Well, okay then. The SVX was animated by a 3.3-liter flat-six making 230 horsepower, a precursor to the last flat-six Subaru offered until 2019. At 3614 pounds, the tech-laden SVX was no crouching tiger, draggin' itself to 60 mph in 7.6 seconds. It stopped from 70 mph in only 172 feet, pulled 0.86 g on the skidpad, and blasted to 144 mph. In the first 10 minutes of motoring, Car and Driver's critical-thinking Steve Thompson said, "And we have a winner." The SVX tracked like a cable car, felt substantial, was quiet and refined, and boasted seats with un-Subaru-like faux-suede coverings. Its ride and handling trade-off recollected the Lexus SC300/400's and Toyota Supra's. It demoted the childish-feeling Dodge Stealth R/T and Mitsubishi 3000GT VR-4 to the stinky wheelie bin of history. Even after our 30,000-mile long-term torment—including an ice-traction test in which I witnessed our SVX hurtling backward at 60 mph with about 50 percent forward throttle—it remained rattle-free, as if built from a submarine's hull. A high-speed tourer for $29K. It turns out, what the SVX did best was digest interstates. At our sign-out board, you had to reserve the car at 9 a.m. Monday or it would already be in heavy rotation, gulping coastal vacation rambles. At 80 mph, the engine loafed at 2700 rpm. I collected our SVX in New Jersey and drove it to Ann Arbor after lunch. I didn't mean to. It just happened. Moreover, the SVX was handsome in a craggy Willem Dafoe sort of way. It still is. At some expense, it was styled by Giugiaro's Italdesign, whose staff probably smirked through lunches, speculating how the doorstop XT ever made it into production. The SVX's side doors proved long but shallow and initially could not swallow the generous panes of glass Giugiaro imagined. So a smaller, movable pane was inserted within the other. It shouldn't have worked but did. Sitting inside, you rarely noticed the bonus window frames, yet you could lower the mini pane in the rain and remain dry. It caused toll collectors to grin while fumbling quarters. It further meant the static, larger side panes could curve voluptuously into the roof, a repli-jet canopy that morphed the greenhouse into a conservatory. "A bright and joyful workplace," noted Thompson. The windows, though, became the inflamed forehead zit that drew everyone's eyes. "It's a Batmobile," onlookers always remarked. Apart from our SVX being black, I recall no bat attributes. The SVX should have established Subaru as a do-anything innovator that could create luxury as credibly as practicality. Subaru hoped to sell 10,000 per year. Instead, U.S. sales seized at 3667 in 1992 and 3859 in 1993. SVX: So Very X-clusive. One person doesn't create a car. It's always a team relying on groupthink. Yet the SVX emerged as Subaru's snazziest looker, as if it were someone's singular vision, their dream, a bucket-list Hail Mary. Had to have been someone with tenure, talent, and tenacity. A Bob Lutz–style character and just as insistent. In this case insistent that a cushy, highway- swallowing two-door GT that was also deeply weird would sell. It didn't. John Phillips first began writing about cars in 1974, at Car Weekly in Toronto. He later worked for Ford Racing, then served for seven years as the Executive Editor of Car and Driver. In the interim, he has written for Harper's, Sports Illustrated, The Toronto Globe and Mail, The Cleveland Plain Dealer, and Conde Nast Traveler. He enjoyed a one-on-one interview with Joe Biden and is the author of the true-crime saga God Wants You to Roll and the memoir Four Miles West of Nowhere. In 2007 he won the Ken Purdy Award for journalism. He lives with his wife, Julie, in the Bitterroot Valley.