Of Poor Caliber

Southern California is a beautiful place, even during winter. Well, during the traditional "winter" months, anyway, since SoCal's vision of cold weather is sixty degrees. What makes an excursion in the land of steady sun even more enjoyable than the scenery is eating freeway miles and mountain passes with the right automobile. I was excited; I figured I could at least get a Focus or a Fiesta. Hell, after seeing the choice in front of me, I would've killed for a '96 Cavalier with a blown head gasket and blood dripping from the center console.

Alas, when I arrived at the San Diego Enterprise to select my holiday hire-car for the week, I was greeted by an obnoxiously cheerful employee who insisted on an "upgrade." He was pushing a sales pitch for a red Charger rather intensely, likely hoping that it would appear to a Neanderthal urge inside me like all good Dodges should (1970 Charger R/T anyone?). Much to his dismay however, I knew I'd be driving far too much to want a fake muscle car best suited for balding white men with beer guts. So I walked right past the red guzzler, hoping for a good selection in the "mid-size" section of the lot.

I had one option before me: a white Chrysler Sebring, notorious for being poor in all aspects...or another white Mopar:

If I'm honest, I would've taken that old 300ZX in the background any day of the week. Twice on Sundays.

Yep, I took the Caliber. I figured that that hatch would be useful for my luggage as I trekked through south and central California. And unlike the Sebring, the Caliber wasn't known for blowing transmissions to Mars. Also unlike the Sebring, I hoped the Caliber would have some kind of charm that could win me over in an underdog sort of way.

But it does share one essential trait with the Sebring - it's rubbish. It wasn't one or two niggles here or there that tipped the good car/bad car scale for me. There is nothing good about this car.

Maybe that's being unfair. There must be something redeeming about it.

It didn't have a "Lickety Split" vinyl pasted on the sides. That's a plus.

It does fit in well with the urban landscape, despite Dodge's apparent attempt to make an offroader out of the poor thing. The white bull did sort of feel at home in downtown San Diego as we lumbered past Mexican-inspired architecture towards the financial district. It felt faddish.

But like all fads, it lacked sustainability and real charm. Like Trapper Keepers and the PT Cruiser convertible.

I thank all that is holy for the death of this abomination.

I tried to look past the macabre styling. I hoped it'd perform better than it looked, because it sure wouldn't win any beauty pageants.

Alas, I was disappointed the moment I turned the ram-branded key. The engine note is nearly inaudible at idle, which is a good thing in the long run for most drivers I suppose. But a weak start up usually belies a weak driving experience. And Lou Ferigno the Caliber isn't. During normal driving, the Caliber's exhaust note is unobtrusive to say the least; at times, I forgot I was driving.

That is, until I pressed slightly on skinny pedal, and the Caliber's CVT reared its ugly head. There are no gears like a traditional transmission (hence the name - Continuously Variable Transmission), instead the Dodge transmits power through an expanding and retracting belt. Cool concept, right?

Until you drive it. While the idea is novel, the lack of physical gears gives the Caliber an incredibly tall "gear" ratio. Meaning, acceleration is decidedly not one of this car's strengths. Actually, that's an understatement - I think I could run onto an interstate sporting a pair of PF Flyers while dousing myself with kerosene and a pack's worth of matches, and it'd still be a safer merge than the Caliber's. I know I'm a more performance-oriented driver than most, but I promise this isn't me being a scraggly, reckless youth. The Caliber is pathetically, even dangerously slow - through the mountain road of I5 connecting Los Angeles and Bakersfield, the ice cream truck huffed and puffed but could barely keep pace with traffic at 2000 feet.

What's that you say? "Why didn't you just go faster?" A good question, and a good segue into the next major problem with the CVT: it "downshifts" whenever you breathe on the throttle. There is absolutely no way to be smooth with the Caliber. I know I might come off pedantic for saying so, considering I drive a Malibu now, but trust me. This thing was more frustrating to modulate than the twin disc-clutched, light-flywheeled, untuned Evo I learned to drive manual on.

And I drove that back from the Bronx on the FDR drive and Cross-Bronx Expressway during rush hour. Still the Caliber was worse.

So how does it handle? For some reason that to this day befuddles me, Dodge equipped the SXT model I had with 18s. Yes, 18s on an "economy" car from the factory, 215/55/18 to be exact. At a glance, it seems fantastic - wide tires for an entry level auto, and lower profiles on the Caliber try to downplay the van look. But I couldn't help noticing that these additions probably made the car even worse than it had to be. The Caliber has a surprisingly comfortable ride that you don't normally see in this segment, which is a plus. However, it accomplishes this feat because its suspension is very soft, which means the car will lean a lot. But that's okay, because this isn't the SRT, right?

Normally, that'd be true. But what Dodge did by throwing those large, heavy 18s on the Caliber with lower profile tires is made it into an understeering pig. Sure, the steering was lazy to begin with (but I've yet to find an electrical power steering system that isn't), but the stiff sidewalls and increased wheel mass kill a lot of the turn-in angle the soft suspension provides. The energy is dispersed and wasted, and the tires can't grip well. The car would be better with 16s, which would probably be just big enough to clear the Caliber's front disc brakes. No worries about the back, though, because Dodge opted to stick with drums. As you might expect, the Caliber stops...sort of. Eventually. I once drove a wrecked '97 Altima with better stopping power.

I'm not sure why they prioritized gigantic wheels over better brakes, especially on the second most expensive non-performance model of the line. I'm more concerned with stopping for the child in the road than watching my wheels shine in the light as I drive, personally.

But if you drive a Dodge...well, big shiny things are probably more important to you. Explains why Dodge is still putting chrome accents everywhere they can, even though it stopped being cool years ago.