As much as Hyundai has heaped laurels upon its brow in the past decade, it is always worth turning an eye to the humble beginnings of the past.
This is particularly true for the Korean manufacturer as their early efforts could be considered some of the worst cars ever produced, alongside slap-dash Soviet-Era prole-mobiles like the Trabant and, of course, the collected works of British Leyland.
Early Hyundais stunk. There was the Stellar, which wasn't. There was the Excel, which didn't. And then there was the Pony: a car much-loved by Canadians because we are, at heart, a nation of penny-pinching skin-flints. The Pony's low, low introductory price made it-and Hyundai-an overnight sales sensation.
False economy, as it turns out, because far from being the sturdy little beast of burden that befitted its appellation, the Pony was prone to minor mechanical faults. Such as large bits of it falling off.
But here we are now in 2012 with-pardon the pun-a horse of a very different colour: the $64,499-to-start Hyundai Equus. Would you believe they're pitching it as a bargain?
Design: To start with, perhaps the most interesting thing about the exterior of the Equus is the lack of Hyundai badging. In fact, were you to lean strategically on the car while showing it off to your neighbour, they'd likely think you'd just bought yourself a nice new Lexus.
Or possibly a Bentley. Those 19" chrome aluminum rims look as though there might be a Flying Spur up on blocks somewhere in a Coal Harbour parking garage.
The rest of the Equus is filled with similar homages-or, if we're being unkind, similarly derivative. In profile, it could be any one of the big luxury sedans that Hyundai has placed in its crosshairs.
In many ways, this conservatism is a very good thing. Hyundai is eager to paint the Equus as a smart choice for a discerning buyer who disdains paying a premium for teutonic badging; the wild colours and basking-shark styling of the Veloster or Genesis Coupe would be out of place here.
That's not to say that the Equus isn't a striking vehicle. Like its stablemate, the Genesis sedan, it's a big, handsome brute with a massive presence and lashings of chrome.
Environment:
If the Equus would remind you of a Lexus from outside, stepping into the interior cements the feeling. From button layout to the soft paleness of the leather seats, you could easily forget you weren't driving a big fancy Toyota especially as, again, there is no stylized "H" badging to remind you you're in a Hyundai.
In fact, the Koreans have cribbed so much of the interior design of the LS460 that one struggles to justify the extra cost of the big Lexus. But it's not impossible to find where pennies have been saved.
For one thing, the white-lettered switchgear would put you in mind of a last-generation RX400 or a pre-update Acura TL. There's nothing to find fault with directly and it's all fairly simple to use-the central command controls are actually easier than most German marques' efforts. However, it doesn't quite approach the cutting-edge feel of an Audi product.
Then there's the quality of the leather interior which is a step down from that found in the Lexus land-yacht. It's not anything horrible, like the artificial textiles inside a entry-level BMW for instance, but Lexii and full-size Mercedes and BMWs all feel as though each hide was carefully selected from cattle that were fed sticks of butter and rubbed in Oil of Olay, twice a day.
In contrast, the seats in the Equus are covered in leather sourced from cows named Tim and Frank and Jerry, who drink Budweiser and like football and listen to Bruce Springsteen. It's not low-rent by any means, just very slightly low-er rent than the much more expensive competition.
Then there is a small issue of rear seat room which, surprisingly isn't as cavernous as you might expect. Long-wheelbase versions of the 7-series BMW or the Mercedes S-class have rear thrones with enough room for Yao Ming to stretch out.
The Equus is fine for regular-sized folks in back, but 6+ footers will feel just-OK. Luckily, amongst the full set of controls found in the fold-down rear armrest of the Signature edition you will find a button that slides the passenger seat forward: perfect if you want to mash your big fat bodyguard into the glovebox to gain a few more inches in which to wriggle your toes.
Performance: To the left of the gear-shift, you will find a button marked "sport." This is somewhat incongruous, like finding a Sport Button on the QEII. Let's press it anyway.
Even in Sport, the adjustable air suspension in the Equus has the damping characteristics of a hovercraft's air cushion. You could drive along Gastown's cobbled streets at highway speeds and not feel a jot of jiggle.
The steering is incredibly light and effortless, and the overall driving sensation is a wafting isolation that would have early Rolls-Royce owners gnawing their monocles in frustration. Despite this airy disconnect from the road, the Equus corners more levelly than you would expect.
Then there's the Equus's beating heart, a thundering gasoline-direct-injection V8 producing 429hp and 376lb/ft of torque. Dubbed the Tau, this all-aluminum 5.0L powerplant is a masterpiece of engineering; if you're paying attention, that's 17 more hp than the Ford Mustang GT's 5L motor.
On the other hand, the Nimitz-class aircraft carrier USS Eisenhower has 259,588 hp more than a V8-Mustang, and you'd hardly call it quick off the line. The considerable heft of the Equus does blunt the performance of its mighty powerplant somewhat.
Still, it makes a lovely-if well-muffled- noise, and once up and moving the Equus can really gallop.
Features:
There are two trim level of Equus, the Signature and the Ultimate. Both are staggeringly well-equipped, with a host of standard features ranging from heated and cooled front seats to satellite navigation to power rear window shades.
It would be pointless to even attempt to list here all the factory options that are included with the "base" model Equus as I have the option sheets in front of me here and they run to seven pages. In 8-point font.
There are, however, a few stand-out features. For instance, the auto-levelling air suspension that will compensate for a heavily-laden car and can be raised to deal with rough surfaces.
Some gaps do exist; the lack of active cornering lights or headlight washers is hopefully something to be addressed in the nextgen Equus. Over the standard Signature, the $71,999 Ultimate takes away 5-seat capacity in favour of two rear thrones that are heated and cooled as well as electronically reclinable. Other enhancements include a front view camera when sticking your nose out of a blind turn and a rear-seat entertainment package so that you can watch DVDs while your driver worries about that sort of thing.
Aside from high-tech goodies, the major way in which the Equus differentiates itself from other Hyundai products is in the way its owners are treated at the dealership: namely, Hyundai doesn't even want you there.
From product specialists on phone to answer any question to off-site test-driving to valet service at maintenance time-Hyundai will dispatch a driver to pick up your car, leave you a loaner Genesis, and return your freshly serviced Equus-everything is done to make sure that the only time you need visit the dealership is when you come down to buy the car.
And that's a problem. Well-heeled clientele enter the same showroom as bargain hunters looking for that low monthly payment on a base model Elantra. Granted, the Equus sells on value, but it and the Genesis sedan are good enough cars to warrant their own halo brand, perhaps sold in a partitioned boutique area of the showroom.
Twitter: @brendan_mcaleer
