I was excited when I first learned about the Lincoln LS. Finally, an American sedan with a state-of-the-art rear-wheel-drive chassis! (Cadillac had the Catera, but it was designed and built in Germany. It also had too few horsepower and too much mass.) Domestic origins aside, the LS was priced thousands less than the similarly sized BMW 5-Series and Lexus GS, and this advantage would only grow as a used car. (I tend to buy one-year-old cars.)

Eager to learn whether the LS fulfilled my expectations, and might ultimately fill my garage, I test drove one soon after the car went on sale in 1999. Unfortunately, at that time I drove an LS with the powertrain least likely to make me happy, the base V6 paired with an automatic. I made this sacrifice because I was helping my aunt look for a new car at the time. (She ended up buying a 1999 DeVille over a year later.) Myself, I vastly prefer a manual. More than once I have had my opinion of a car transformed by driving a second example so equipped. The automatic LS I drove showed promise, especially in the area of handling. But it was less than exciting. Would the manual make it truly a driver’s car? It took a while for me to get around to it, but now I’ve driven one to find out.

Lincoln LS Reliability

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Styling

Before I get to the driving experience, I’ll re-view the styling and interior of the LS. Back in 1999 the LS looked pretty sharp, if a bit derivative of a BMW—or Mitsubishi. The exterior still looks elegant, at least with the 17-inch wheels. (The LS doesn’t look nearly as good with the 16s that come with the base car.) I especially like the bold front end, the subtle shoulders that flow into the bodysides from atop the front wheels, and the smoothly arcing roofline. I also like the basic proportions of the LS: a very short front overhang, much longer (in fact, slightly too long) rear overhang, and generous 114.5” wheelbase.

The last Acura Legend had similar proportions, and I admired them on that sedan as well. If that car is any guide, however, good proportions are lost on 99% of the market. Give most people well-proportioned, clean lines and they simply see a plain car. I suspect that the LS has also suffered this fate, which will only be compounded by the recent appearance of the brash Cadillac CTS.

Even for me proportions aren’t everything. Some elements didn’t look right to me when I first saw the LS, and they look even worse now. The rear bumper cover is far too bulky. And I’ve always hated the taillights: their shape, their proportions, their ribbed surface. The rest of the LS’s styling is so conventional, couldn’t they have gone with a conventionally styled rear, like that of the Cadillac Seville, and been done with it?

Over the past few years luxury car makers have been experimenting with radical new shapes, textures, and materials in their interiors. You’ll find none of that here. No brushed metal, no exotic woods, no faux carbon fiber. A fair amount of your standard brown faux wood…don’t get me started. No unusual shapes—hardly any curves at all, aside from the top of the instrument cluster. What we have with the LS is as generic an early 1990s near-luxury interior as you’ll find. Nothing stylistically to offend, but nothing to excite the senses, either. A total lapse of the imagination.

Accommodations

All would be forgiven if the interior was otherwise an excellent place to be. Unfortunately, it’s faults extend beyond the aesthetic realm. The LS’s interior has been rightly slammed for the quality of its materials. The surfaces on the dash and especially on the center console are a hard, flat plastic with severe edges. The aesthetic is basically BMW, but with materials a cut below those in a BMW. Like a 5-Series BMW, it generally fails to appear luxurious. The various switches could also look and feel higher in quality.

In it favor, the LS is thousands cheaper than its import competition. Even the Jag that shares its chassis is ten grand more. Yet Ford certainly planned to earn a profit on the car. I suspect the interior suffered from a conscious strategic decision to spend any spare change on the chassis.

Another big problem with the interior is space, though not so much actual space as perceived space. Given a certain amount of volume, a car's designers can do various things to make it feel larger or smaller than it actually is. Toyota went in the spacious direction in a big way with the Avalon. Lincoln went nearly as far in the other direction with this car. While no average-sized person is likely to actually be physically cramped front or rear in this car, they may feel cramped, especially in the front.

The major culprit in front is the A-pillar (the pillar next to the windshield). This pillar is raked quite far back and low, such that it ends up close to the driver's face. This makes the exterior look sleeker, but it also makes the interior feel much smaller than it actually is. I personally prefer designs that keep the A-pillars and windshield header out of my immediate vision. This is a rare problem to have in a non-Chrysler sedan, especially in this class. German luxury sedans in particular tend to have much more upright windshields. In the past I've most commonly found this to be a problem in sports coupes like the Eclipse and Camaro.

The door panels are similarly designed so they are close to the front passengers, so much so that there is very little room to reach the seat controls located near the floor between the seat and the door. I personally like an interior that is somewhat close to the driver because it feels sportier. In the LS, however, Lincoln has gone too far in this direction.

Taken together, these design features make the LS feel like a compact. My aunt kept referring to it as a "nice little car." Her current car is a Camry, which is nearly half a foot shorter in external length and more than a quarter ton lighter. Nevertheless, to her this car seemed much smaller, and thus did not come close to meeting her needs. Granted, she really was not the intended market. But I suspect that the intended market would also like a somewhat airier cabin.

Lincoln has advertised how this car is roomier than the competition. What they must remember is that numbers are not what matters in the end. Perceptions are.

The cars greatest weakness may be s lack of interior storage space. The glove box and center console are shockingly small. The latter is nearly filled by the optional CD changer. Put all of the interior storage spaces together and there is just enough room to hold four or five card-deck-sized objects—as long as you don't want to store two in the same place.

The trunk is about average in size for this class of car, which is to say adequate but much smaller than domestic luxury car buyers are used to. The hinges are the conventional, intrusive sort. Thankfully, if you need more cargo space the rear seat folds down in two sections. I use this feature often in my own cars, and would not want a sedan without it. (Are you listening, Lexus, Infiniti, and Acura?) BMW, Mercedes, and Cadillac charge hundreds extra for this feature. It’s standard on the LS.

On the Road

Now we get to the heart of this review: What is the LS like to drive? The powertrain has a large impact here. Both a V6 with 220 horsepower (ten more than last year) and a V8 with 252 horsepower are available. The latter costs an extra three grand. Is it worth it? On the one hand, BMW and Lexus charge roughly twice as much for a V8 over a V6. On the other, their V8s are much more powerful, such that you are getting 65-80 more horses for that money, not just 32. Ford may have tried too hard to keep the LS from competing with the Jag S-Type. Similar engines produce 240 and 281 horsepower, respectively, in the latter car.

Actually, by discussing the engine first I’m getting ahead of myself. You see, you can get a manual transmission in the LS, something that hadn’t been seen in a Lincoln in decades, but you can only get it with the V6. Even with ten extra horsepower for 2002 (to match the new CTS, I suspect), this engine lacks the oomph to move this car with much enthusiasm. It never feels weak, but the exterior styling and fairly low driving position suggest something a good deal more potent, a rocket for the road. The V8 paired with the manual would deliver better here.

Power isn’t the only problem with the six. This engine lacks the refinement expected in a near-luxury sedan. It sounds a bit rough when accelerating, and the exhaust can drone a bit on the highway. In addition to producing substantially more torque, the eight is more refined (if still behind the leaders in this area), and is thus the better choice for anyone even slightly interested in such things.

Why did Lincoln only make the manual available with the six? They are not alone in this strategy of making a manual available only with the weakest engine. Saturn does this with the L-Series, Toyota with the Camry, and Mercedes with the C-Class, to name a few others. What is going on here? Do they think people are buying manuals in these cars for fuel economy, or because they don’t want to pay extra for an automatic? This logic almost carries water with the Camry and Saturn. Still, even these want to be thought of as sport sedans, and this image would be helped by pairing a manual with the largest available engine. This logic certainly makes no sense with the C-Class, and it makes no sense with the Lincoln LS. People buying near-luxury cars with manual transmissions have performance in mind, and thus if the manual is only going to be available with one engine it should be the most powerful one.

Let’s play with a hypothetical: If Lincoln did pair the eight with a stick, would this be a great car for the enthusiast? Maybe…

The chassis does its part. Handling is precise. Cornering involves little body lean. Aided by the rear-wheel-drive configuration, the car always feels balanced and easily controllable. The steering could be a bit more communicative, especially at moderate speeds, but it’s much better than that of any past Lincoln. Overall, the LS’s chassis is a bit less agile than that of the surprisingly tossable Cadillac CTS, but the difference is not large. It’s fundamental dynamics are competitive.

Traditionally when American automakers have set out to provide a luxury car with a handling suspension they have destroyed the ride. This was especially the case in the '80's and early '90's, when Cadillacs with handling packages rode like the trucks of the era. (My grandfather for reasons still beyond me bought a '90 Seville with the handling package. He regretted this choice every time he drove the car.)

Thankfully this is not the case with the LS. While the ride is firm--you won't confuse it with a Lexus--it is never harsh. There is a bit of shuddering through the steering wheel over bumps, but this is the fault of the structure--though a fairly heavy car, the LS’s structure isn’t quite as stiff as the Germans—not the suspension tuning. The suspension is well damped (as opposed to stiffly sprung), just short of BMW levels in this regard. While you will hear the bumps in the road a bit, the suspension always seems to handle them is a controlled manner. Combined with the handling, this is very confidence-inspiring.

So what’s holding the LS I drove back? Well, it’s hard to describe. I test drove the manual LS alone, and took the opportunity to drive it very aggressively. I pushed it through turn after turn in search of that familiarity where the car becomes an extension of oneself. I couldn’t get there. The shifter has a nice notchy, precise snick-snick feel to it—Audi could learn something here—but it felt out of place in this package. The interior styling makes the car feel tight, something that often enhances the sportiness of a sedan, yet the car as a whole remained distant. Tight inside, but still too big. Unlike the better German sedans (but somewhat like an A6) the LS never felt smaller and lighter than it was. It needs to, because the LS is, by nearly a couple of inches in each direction, the longest and widest sedan available with a manual in the U.S. (Only the Jaguar S-Type and Audi A6 are even roughly the same size, and they don’t quite feel right with a manual, either. The BMW 5-Series is nearly six inches shorter.) Despite the nicely balanced chassis, the LS simply felt too large to be hurrying through turns, working the gears. The look of the car and feel of the chassis say, “Give me some torque!” The V6 paired with the manual is simply too slight in feel compared to the chassis. Perhaps the engine could be retuned to lend it a more substantial feel. But why beat around the bush? Pair the manual with the eight, and be done with it.

Ideally, the interior would be restyled. Nothing about it seems special. More to the point, the current interior lacks the look and feel of a driver’s car. Handling aside, with this interior the car doesn’t feel sporty. The new CTS’s interior does a much better job of making the driver feel like a fighter pilot, which is the sensation I want with a manual transmission.

The seats are the biggest culprit. They are quite comfortable when cruising down the highway. But they have minimal bolstering. When going through those hard turns I kept an elbow firmly planted against the door panel. Slightly larger, more aggressively bolstered seats would go a long way towards making the LS look and feel like a driver’s car. The seats in the Acura TL would be a good place to start. The sport seats in the 5-Series an even better place. The CTS does much better here as well. Adjustable bolsters, to adapt to different-size people, would be ideal.

The manual is only available in the “Sport” model, which includes a stiffer suspension and larger wheels. BMW sport packages generally include “sport seats.” Lincoln needs to copy at least one more thing from BMW for the LS. Sure, a restyled interior would also be good, but better seats would be relatively cheap and easy, and just might do it.

Currently, the V8 with automatic is the only acceptable powertrain in this car. If you're setting on buying an LS, this is the one you want.

Last Words

In the end, I’m not sure whom this car is for. Near-luxury buyers vary in the levels of luxury and sportiness they desire. The LS combines luxurious and sporty qualities in a way that neither crowd will be entirely happy. To give the major example, the interior feels tight, yet fails to feel sporty. Even among Detroit products better choices are available at both ends of the spectrum. Luxury buyers will probably prefer the much roomier Chrysler 300M, or maybe the Oldsmobile Aurora. Performance-minded buyers will probably prefer the Cadillac CTS.

I suppose some luxury buyers want a more balanced chassis than those front-drivers provide, and some performance-minded buyers want more elegant styling than that of the CTS. For these groups, the LS might be the best fit, especially if they want 5-Series room on a 3-Series budget. There, I found the market for this car.

The available V8 might seem an LS advantage, but it makes no more power than the six in the Chrysler (though it is a quicker car). Also, in a year or so the CTS will have a 3.6 liter six producing about 250 horsepower, at which point it will probably match the LS V8’s acceleration. Frankly, until Cadillac puts some serious power in the CTS (turbo six in 2004) all domestic near-luxury cars will be wanting in the power department. Let’s face it, you can get a 240 horsepower V6 in a $27,000 Nissan Altima. Cars costing ten grand more should offer at least as much performance.

It’s a shame the LS doesn’t appeal more to enthusiasts. Ford expended a great deal of money and effort on the expensive part, the all-new rear-wheel-drive chassis, only to have relatively minor elements largely cancel this effort. By going after too many markets at once, Lincoln missed the only one that would appreciate—and pay for—that expensive chassis.

To have the chassis pay off, the LS must be tailored for people who are—or at least want to think they are—driving enthusiasts. Lincoln needs to develop a proper sport model, one with a fitting interior. At a minimum, the car needs better seats and a torquier base engine. Even the V8 could use a bit more oomph.

Ideally, Lincoln would pair a 300-horsepower V8 with a six-speed manual. This powertrain would go a long way towards making the rapidly fading, overly conventional LS stand out in the crowded near-lux field. Even if few were sold, it would lend the car a great deal of credibility.

One final change is in order. Yes, alphanumeric "names" are experiencing a revival. The Japanese have copied the Germans here, and now the Americans are jumping on the bandwagon. The Catera replacement is the CTS. Future Cadillacs will be the SRX and XLR.

Lincoln and Cadillac should be warned. Acura abandoned a great brand name, "Legend," to go the alphanumeric route. Perhaps because they got burned so badly with "Vigor?" But renaming the Legend the RL has all but killed it.

If Lincoln must go alphanumeric, at least come up with something consistent and interesting. In terms of consistent, why is the LS the only Lincoln with an alphanumeric “name?” As for interesting, at least two other makes, Lexus and Saturn, have “LS” models, and it’s a boring name. Okay for a pure luxury car like the Lexus, it doesn’t fit a sedan with sporting pretensions. It’s killing the large Saturn, and it’s not doing this Lincoln any favors. At this point a freshening of the Lincoln LS shouldn’t be too far off (the Jag S-Type is getting one in a few months). When they freshen the car, hopefully they freshen the name as well.

To learn more about my reliability research and sign up to participate in it, or to perform thorough, up-to-date new car price comparisons, visit www.truedelta.com. A link to this website and alphabetized links to my other vehicle reviews can be found on my profile page.

Amount Paid (US$): 32000
Model Year: 2002
Model and Options: Sport V6 manual; V6 auto in '99