Flying across the Atlantic is a ritual. You trade the endless highway sprawl for cobblestones. Patisseries smell like yeast and sugar. It is nice. But you aren’t there for the architecture. Not really.
You’re there for the cars. The little ones that vanish into doorframes in Paris. The Alpine A110s that sound like angry motorcycles. We usually get these back in Europe, where the streets demand humility. But recently we got lucky. Stellantis rolled a batch of their European lineup right into our home turf. We grabbed six wheels. Four brands.
The track was tight. A few esses at city speeds. Then a long straight to pretend we were on the Autobahn. It was brief. Too brief, really. But enough to see what the rest of the world drives.
The Retro Cult Hero
Fiat Grande Panda
This one won. Hands down.
Look at it. It wants to be seen. The retro design is aggressive in its innocence. “PANDA” is stamped into the door panels. Pixel lights glare like old Nintendo cartridges. The box is upright, defiant.
Inside is chaos and charm. Yellow trim shouts at you. A dashboard cubby lined with actual bamboo fiber—33% real, they tell us—holds your keys. There’s even a tiny plastic replica of the original Panda parked by the screen. The seats read: Panda Made With Love In Fiat.
We drove the hybrid. Turbo 1.2-liter engine. 48-volt battery. Dual-clutch. Just 110 hp.
Does it matter?
On the street? No. It squirts forward. Electric torque makes corners easy. It feels alive. Past 70 mph though? It begs you to slow down. We tried pushing it. The ride softened nicely, but the corners flattened out quickly. Too soft for the canyon runs. Maybe too weird for Kansas. New York? Sure. It fits in the gaps.
The Wagon That Shouldn’t Exist
Opel Astra Sports Tourer
SUVs rule. We know. But the Europeans still cling to the shooting brake. The Astra Sports Tourer proved why. Green paint. Handsome.
Opel’s new face is a black visor across the front. It hides the headlights. It works. Inside, cheap plastic lurks on the door panels, but suede touches the seats. Sophistication. Or at least the attempt at it.
We had the plug-in hybrid. 1.6-liter turbo. 12-kWh battery giving 37 electric miles. 178 total horses. It felt responsive. Quiet. Refined. About the size of a Civic Hatch. Imagine a Chrysler rebadge. Imagine buying that instead of a boring SUV. Would we? Probably not. But the dream persists.
The Aerodynamic Tailfin
Citroën C5 Arcross
Second gen now. 2025 model year. Sleek. Reserved. Until the rear.
The taillights stick out like fins on a 60s Chevy. Citroën says it helps airflow. It certainly looks distinct. Inside? Cloth mixed with leatherette. Roomy. Comfortable.
The powertrain punches hard. PHEV variant. 1.6 turbo plus a larger battery—21 kWh this time. 192 hp. 53 miles electric range. That’s enough to clear most commutes. But then comes the turn.
Body roll. Significant. This is a Honda CR-V sized thing. It dives. It leans. Bumps were soft. Corners were not. You trade stability for suspension comfort. A fair deal for city driving. Less fair for the freeway on-ramp.
The Commuter
Citroën e-C3 Arcross
Smaller box. Four inches shorter than a Corolla Cross. Available with gas. We drove the EV.
113 horsepower. Single front motor.
Slow.
In a market accustomed to 250+ hp electric go-karts, this felt like walking uphill in wet socks. Top speed? 89 mph. Good luck on the highway. Steering? Featherlight. No connection. Just a shuttle bus from point A to point B. Functional. Dull. It stays in Europe.
The Anonymous Large Box
Opel Grandland Electric
Biggest non-van Opel has. Clean lines. Boring paint unless you choose Golden Sunstone. It looked fine. Modern, but faceless.
Interior stepped up though. Nicer plastics. Metallic trim. Feels upscale compared to the smaller cousins. Platform sharing with the C5 means the DNA is the same, but the Grandland handles it better. Less roll. More composed. Still. The ride was sharp. Flinty.
Power changed everything though. 321 hp from the electric motor. Zippy. 311 miles range. Now we are talking. A competent EV for the masses.
The Beautiful Mistake
Peugeot e-3038
STLA Medium platform again. Dual motors. Smooth power. The exterior is a hit. Those three slashes in the headlight cluster? Sharp. The grille pattern looks intricate from five feet away.
Get inside. Look at the dash.
The gauge cluster sits too high. To see it, you have to push the steering wheel toward your crotch. It forces your shoulders forward. Awkward. Like the latest Prius layout, but worse. You drive an inch too low for hours.
Great looks. Terrible ergonomics. Which wins? For Peugeot, apparently style does. But my wrists hurt thinking about it.
The American Heart Attack
Dodge Durango SRT Hecat Jailbreak
They brought this one too. Of course.
After the whisper of hybrids and the whir of EVs, the V8 sounded like a cannon in a library. 710 horsepower. Supercharged 6.2. This generation has been around a decade. The body looks old.
Doesn’t matter.
You hit the throttle and time stops. The Durango doesn’t care about efficiency. Or battery range. Or whether you can park in Berlin. It just roars. A breath of fresh, gasoline-soaked air. Sometimes the old way is still the best.
Even if we leave the car parked.
