Specialty File
Okay, here we are playing Tommi Makinen and Risto Mannisenmaki competing in the World Rally Championship. We swoop down into the corner, double-clutch down one gear (unfortunately, without the benefit of the sequential selector in full-blown WRC cars), then do some left-foot braking and wait for the car to begin rotating. When it does, we get back on the throttle and marvel as this Lancer Evo VI sucks itself out of the bend on a rising rush of power.
Why do we marvel? Well, stick your head inside the cockpit, and it looks just like a humble Mirage rental car. (Apart, of course, from the three-spoke Momo steering wheel.) That's largely because it's a German-market model with an adapted U.S. instrument cluster and radio. But it has an engine rated by its manufacturer at 276 horsepower at 6500 rpm. That's a lot for a Mirage, unless you know that the auto industry in Japan has a curious agreement not to declare that their engines have more than 276 horses. So, the 276 you see here is really code for, oh, 310 or even 320 horsepower.
That's because manufacturers feel the need to build roadgoing versions of the cars they campaign in international rallying, to showcase just how far they can push that production-sedan envelope. And it's necessary to put as much of the stuff you need in rallying on that road car. They like to demonstrate that motorsport improves the breed.
Thus, the Lancer (what the Mirage is called in certain European markets) has a high-output version of Mitsubishi's 2.0-liter DOHC four-cylinder engine, boosted to 17 psi by a very special titanium turbo with an aluminum impeller.
Not only is that level of boost considered appreciable for a road car, but the induction charge is further condensed by a giant air-to-air intercooler housed in the enlarged front fascia. If that's not enough, there's a switch in the cabin that activates a water spray to further cool things down.
Even without engaging the intercooler spray, we ran from a standstill to 60 mph in 5.1 seconds and on through the quarter-mile in 13.9 seconds at 102 mph. Launching the four-wheel-drive car is a lesson in clutch abuse since you can't spin the tires with a clutch drop. To make matters worse, our testing surface was extremely grippy, making a good launch difficult. We also ran the car to its 7000-rpm redline in fifth gear, which calculates (thanks to revs-per-mile tire specs we had to telephone to Belgium for) to 148 mph.
Despite the high-performance credentials, the Lancer still drives with typical Japanese-car ease, with fairly light wheel, shifter, and pedal efforts. Nor is there the gigantic turbo lag you might expect from an assembly big enough to blow 17 pounds. No, the Lancer drives around at low and medium engine speeds about as willingly as any runabout of its size. Then it launches into ferocious acceleration at anything above 4000 rpm.
On the highway, this thing scoots into gaps in fifth gear with the kind of throttle response usually reserved for Vettes and Vipers--and does so extremely smoothly, thanks to Mitsubishi's balance-shaft engine.
Furthermore, since the power is divided among all four wheels--with a Torsen diff on the front axle, a planetary center diff with viscous coupling, and a mechanical limited-slip on the rear end--the traction is prodigious. Add the four 225/45ZR-17 Bridgestone Potenza S0-2 tires on eight-inch-wide O-Z wheels--good for 0.90 g on our skidpad--and you're looking at a Mustang hunter.
It's not a very well camouflaged hunter, however, since the requirements of rallying (and packaging) have pumped up the normal Mirage exterior into a much-hot-rodded mutation. The fascia now has a dropped chin, puffed-out cheeks, and a leering intercooler underbite. The wheelhousings bulge in anticipation of big tires and huge Brembo brakes. But the pièce de rèsistance is a big dual-element wicker-type rear wing, complete with adjustable top attack angle. Even among slammed sports compacts on the West Coast, the Evo stands out.
But it also fits right in. A cool young Net Genner with dyed-blond dreadlocks driving a customized RX-7 pulled alongside and offered voluble praise. Still, if we owned the car, we'd pull off the wing. People would still notice the wheels and bulging body appurtenances, but even these don't speak eloquently enough about the car's potential. Even among hot-rodded compacts, this is a Q-car.
And as with most Q-cars, there are compromises to live with. A firm ride is one, and some annoying driveline shuffle in choked freeway crawling is another. But by and large, the Evo could live as a commuter if it had to. Unfortunately for U.S. drivers, this is not going to be a decision we'll be allowed to make.
