In all, the Red Line engenders a sort of base schoolyard satisfaction that’s especially irresistible to shut-in writer types. Fortunately, the Saturn’s mighty-mite four isn’t picky about what gear it’s in. This “close-ratio” version of the Saab 9-3’s gearbox feels heavy and clunky in the hand. In truth, only one interface creates disharmonious hoonery: the Red Line’s five-speed manual. Torque steer is conspicuous in its absence. Sharp corners reveal superb front-end bite, taut brake-pedal feel, and tight, well-judged damping. The helm tracks your intended line as unshakably as the Orient Express. The steering, while always leaden in its effort, provides surprisingly sharp, pointy path control. The Red Line’s chassis snaps to attention when pressed. Sixty mph rolls up in two smooth, linear surges, totaling 6.1 seconds. The Red Line is free of the driveline histrionics that often accompany cheap forced-induction setups. Bury your foot in the (short, wiry) carpet and GM’s blown Ecotec proves itself a proper Yankee torquer, thrusting eagerly off the line and swelling to near-WRX intensity as the tach needle climbs. On a brief hop around the block, you mostly notice the surprisingly heavy steering, the stiff, slack-feeling clutch, the incessant rattling of the Quad Door assembly and the engine’s tendency to hang onto revs as you shift.īut then, a smug punk in a Civic blips you at a stoplight. But then you turn the Red Line’s key, its 2.0-liter, 205-horse supercharged four barks to life, and something strange happens: the nasty little bastard starts to grow on you. That GM thought it price-appropriate is frankly insulting. You can’t help but cringe upon stepping into this austere, amateurish cabin. Unfortunately, said gauges reside in the center of the dash, frustrating their efforts. On the plus side, GM’s Performance Division fitted the Red Line with a phenomenally supportive set of Recaro seats, wrapped the steering wheel in thick leather and attempted to make the gauges more legible. Predictably, the ION’s third-world quality extends to its interior, a curvilinear mishmash of rainy-day gray plastic, mushy switchgear and crude mold partings. Of course, GM could have mastered the technology, maybe even experimented with “memory” plastics. Saturn fans wax rhapsodic about their cars’ ding- and dent-resistant properties, but it’s easy to see why GM is phasing out Saturn’s plasti-panels. Wide, uneven crevices separate the Red Line’s composite body panels, and its paint wears an unhappy orange-peel glaze. Speaking of gaps, the Red Line exhibits a grade of exterior finish rarely seen outside of The Beijing Auto Show. For another (you need another?), the doors’ budget-Bangle flame surfacing looks, well, Bungled. In typical GM fashion, the car’s glowering front and rear fascias are hung way-the-hell out past the wheel arches. For one thing, the ION Red Line’s proportions are all out of whack.
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