2004 Toyota Avalon XLS

Inside, the Avalon is a studied homage to 1960s GM interior decorating. The sunken, stretched-taffy dash, in particular, looks as if it were stolen from the American Dashboard Museum's exhibit on the year 1968, albeit snapped into the 21st Century via a navigation display placed smack-center in the panorama. Amusingly, this nav system is operated by a remote control that's removable from its center-console nest, the reason being that rear passengers might want to play around with it, too. Quipped one driver, "If this car added only a footrest to the reclining driver's seat and a sandwich dispenser in the dash, I don't think my grandfather would need my grandmother at all."

All kidding aside, the Avalon, even an aging one, is a compelling proposition if your singular aim is to travel silently and serenely between GPS coordinates in a quality automobile. It's no surprise then that it topped our list on ride quality and finished second in interior-noise suppression. But, dynamically, nobody's home. The brakes are soggy on quick application, and the front tires squeal at the rumor of a turn.

The dash design of the Toyota Avalon is cozy and well made--if deliberately dated. Ahead of that dash is a smooth-running 210-horse V-6.

Can you have near-Avalon isolation together with entertaining driving dynamics and expressive design? Our three new American challengers are raising their hands to argue that, yes, indeed, you can.

One waving hand belongs to the Buick LaCrosse. Replacing the Century and the Regal, the LaCrosse is the Buick GM figures to be just right. Ours was fitted with the 240-horse 3.6-liter V-6 equipped with variable actuation of the intake and exhaust valve timing (the stalwart 200-horse, 3.8-liter V-6 soldiers on as well). It's replete in premium CXS trim, which brings to our road party thicker anti-roll bars, 17-inch wheels and tires, a well-tuned (for a change) Magnasteer power assist, and cushier jounce and rebound snubbers (featured on all LaCrosses) to help damp the wheel's pinball-machine antics over harsh surfaces.

Toyota recreates a decades-earlier American automotive driving experience--the hushed, bank-vault quietness that armor-gauge bodywork once afforded and the liquidy-lope called "boulevard ride."

While the benefits of all this technical enhancement were duly verified by our cold-blooded test equipment (with gold stars for an 8.0-second 0-to-60 mph time and 0.78 g around the skidpad), on the open road, our warm-blooded scribes were repeatedly given pause by their own written words: "This Buick really handles...did I actually just write that?" Granting that this is an aging platform still possessed of a few niggling quivers, it's impressive how willing the CXS is to be grabbed by the scruff of the neck and hustled through the switchbacks. It's no BMW, but it's no ordinary, old-fashioned Buick, either.