AURORA | The Subaru Outback has an identity crisis.
Americans don’t buy wagons. Except the Outback was the 19th best-selling car in the country last year, outselling the Toyota Prius and Volkswagen Passat. So far this year, it’s the 16th best-selling car in the U.S., outselling the Volkswagen Jetta, Kia Soul and (gasp!) Ford Mustang. Never mind that effectively half of the U.S. — at least south of the Mason-Dixon line — needs the Outback’s all-wheel drive like a fish needs boots.
And it’s not an SUV. What is, or isn’t, an SUV is becoming harder to define than what constitutes a sport. Is golf a sport? Is a hot dog a sandwich? The 8.7-inches of ground clearance is roughly the same as most unibody SUVs on the road these days (Land Rover Discovery, Jeep Grand Cherokee, et al) and the Outback even has what it calls “X-Mode,” a traction control system that includes hill descent control.
They’re almost always driven by hippies and/or gay people. Not to mention wealthy people (billionaire Warren Buffet has an Outback, and half of all Outback buyers have annual household incomes of more than $100,000), pet owners (nearly half of all Subaru buyers own pets) and bill payers (the average Outback buyer has a higher credit score than nearly every other new car buyer). And yeah I guess that’s also true, buyers are probably outdoorsy types (two-thirds of their buyers reportedly participate in some outdoor activity) or gay (Subaru was one of the first automakers to openly support and court gay consumers).
They’re not American. Few cars are anymore. But the Outback is at least assembled in Indiana. Oh yeah, about that gay thing …
Thus, for the Subaru Outback, there is a long list of what the crossover isn’t. It’s not a wagon that isn’t built and sold in droves in America. It’s not an SUV with more ground clearance than a Land Rover. And it isn’t the only thing that a Nebraska investor and a lesbian have in common.
For the 2015 Subaru Outback, a car that bucks mainstream appeal in every way but no way, there’s a head-scratching moment to understand what makes the car so popular.
Under the hood is the same from last year: a 2.5-liter, flat four that makes 175 horsepower or an optional 3.6-liter, flat six that cranks 256 hp. The four cylinder, plugged into all 2.5i models, isn’t going to win any drag races, but it does help mitigate the all-wheel drive’s inherent flaw compared to other base competitors: fuel efficiency. The 2.5-liter engine manages 28 mpg in combined fuel economy or even 33 mpg on the highway. The 3.6-liter is significantly thirstier at 22 mpg combined or 27 mpg on the highway, according to the EPA.
Even a base Outback doesn’t feel cheap to drive, a significant effort over previous generations. The outgoing generation focused solely on its powertrain, a complex but hidden system of two all-wheel drivetrains and two transmission options. Handling, ride and even style, sacrificed everything at the altar of all-road capability. This time around, buyers only get one transmission (automatic CVT) and the two aforementioned engines, simplifying the powertrain equation.
The stubborn CVT shows its limits in the smaller engine, winding and whining all the way up to speed when pressed into duty. The edges are smoothed a little more in the bigger mill, where extra power helps keep the revs low, and if you are inclined to pass on the highway, a simulated “step” paces through gears like a conventional automatic transmission.
(My guess is that too many buyers asked if something was wrong when they stamped on the gas and the car “didn’t change gears.” It’s a complex trick to a simple problem: it’s all just one big gear.)
Still, the best way to resolve the Outback’s identity crisis is in terms of what’s on the inside. The center control stack is much cleaner this time around, with Subaru’s hulking command center shrinking into a standard 6.2-inch touchscreen system that’s more responsive and user-friendly than the outgoing model.
Even on the base model, the cabin is quieter and more comfortable than many sedans that cost $10,000 more than the Outback’s $24,895 base price. Our test model, a top-of-the-line 3.6R Limited with navigation, moonroof, push-button start and Subaru’s suite of safety features dubbed EyeSight (forward collision alert, lane departure warning, rear cross traffic alert and probably magic) topped more than $36,000, but many of the interior’s best features come standard.
Softer-touch materials and thicker armrests swaddle passengers, and thicker sound deadening materials throughout the car make it more comfortable than most of its competition. (Knowing that many of the Outback’s most-improved features come standard, it’s hard to argue that its platform-sibling, the Legacy, isn’t the better value for nearly $3,000 less assuming you don’t need a large cargo area.)
The Outback is certainly a larger car, and despite bigger brakes from the last generation, the Outback’s considerable 3,600-pound heft isn’t easily managed. It’s comfortable and quiet in highway jaunts, but zipping in and around a city makes drivers acutely aware that despite being an un-SUV, it’s still a large presence on the road.
But that begs a tougher question: What else is like it on the road? Who wants an American-built wagon, un-SUV, that appeals only niche market segments and everyone else, too, that no automaker has successfully duplicated so far?
Maybe we’re the ones with the identity crisis.