QOTD: What Feature or Ability is Worth the Money?

Two disparate experiences precipitated today’s QOTD: a quick stop at the local Hyundai dealer … and a conversation with my nine-year old.

From unpredictable East Coast weather to trying to guess next week’s gas prices, there are an abundance of variables in life around here. One constant, however, is my penchant for driving through a dealer’s lot or three to check out inventory whenever I make a trip to town. Yesterday, I turned a wheel at the Hyundai store, idly wondering if how many Santa Cruz pickups will be in stock when they finally make production.

Sitting on the front row was a current — and final — model year Hyundai Genesis with just slightly over 10,000 miles, presumably a demo. Caspian Black, entry-level Premium model. Now, when I say entry-level, I’m not exactly talking about a base Ford Aspire. Sumptuous 12-way adjustable leather seats, a panoramic sunroof and dual-zone automatic climate control are all on board. Toss in a capable 3.8-liter V6 shuttling 311 horsepower through all four driven wheels and someone is going find themselves in what they no doubt will think is a very luxurious ride while getting in excess of ten grand off the $43,000 Monroney.

Contrast those thoughts with the utterances of my nine-year old while riding in this week’s whip from the press fleet: a 2017 Honda Ridgeline Sport. At nearly 40 large (CAD), the trucklet is well thought out but nevertheless devoid of leather, satellite radio, and other appurtenances of luxury. The Ridgeline failed to “feel like that much money,” according to my offspring who, it must be said, appears to be jockeying for my gig as an auto journalist. I told him he’ll have to learn to like shrimp if he wants my job. Digressions aside, he’s right — in Sport trim, the Ridgeline is lacking in niceties found elsewhere at similar price points. (Buying advice? Make the $3000 walk to an EX-L, a trim level which would silence all my grousings by providing more features for only a bit more cheddar.)

Still others define luxury as the ability to do or experience things which were previously verboten. Not those things, you dirty bugger. Take Tesla’s Autopilot, for example, which allows drivers to lean back and let the car steer for a while (how well it does that is up for considerable debate and a subject for another column). Humans being the way they are, most of them will use that newfound freedom behind the wheel to quickly respond to a text or read an email (not that we recommend you do so) without fear of haphazardly piloting their car directly into a school bus full of disabled orphans. That freedom is a new luxury not heretofore afforded to drivers, a luxury held in higher regard by some than any amount of premium Napa leather.

So what is luxury? Is it an abundance of features which didn’t exist in your previous ride? Prodigious power? Enough technology to make Elon Musk blush? Me, I recall appreciating the ability of my grandfather’s ten-year old GMC to claw its way to the door of his woods camp on the weekend, saving me the effort of bundling up like a mummer and having to travel there on a worn-out Yamaha Bravo. To me, that’s true luxury. How about you?

[Image: Frankieleon/ Flickr ( CC BY 2.0)]