Long-Term Test Verdict: 2005 Subaru Legacy 2.5 GT Limited
Legacy lost--or leapfrogged?
Close your eyes and think "Subaru." What do you see? Perhaps a late-model Sooby trundling across a sleety New England highway in the pit of December. Two hundred and fifty thousand miles on its odometer. Mud petrified on its flanks. A flinty Northeasterner behind the wheel who's wise enough to be driving a reliable car at a time like this.
You probably don't think of a red Legacy sedan sucking warm Southern California air into its hood-mounted air scoop as it turbocharges past startled BMWs beneath the sunshine and blurring palm trees of L.A. traffic. The car? Our long-term 2005 Subaru Legacy GT, which we've finally handed back to Subaru high command after completing its year-long suffering at the hands of hedonistic Motor Trend staffers who only know New Hampshire winters from Thomas Kincade postcards. All we're left with are 18,000 miles of anecdotes--and this question: Has Subaru lost its flinty Northeasterner soul, going for the performance gusto?
The Legacy GT had been an appealing proposition since its inception. Take a sturdy all-wheel-drive foundation dressed in casual-attire bodywork and quicken the pulse while keeping the visual impact faint enough not to give away the game when glimpsed in a rearview mirror.

That word "faint" tended to crop up quite a bit in response to our 2005 edition's $30,270 out-the-door price, which included a $575 destination charge and a single, $1200 manumatic transmission option. Yikes! Thirty grand for a four-cylinder Subaru? Who do you think you are, Mr. Legacy? A Lexus? Early in the car's stay, the sentiment was a drumbeat in the logbook: "$30,000-plus for a Subaru that doesn't say STi on the trunklid?" "My only gripe is the Legacy's as-tested sticker price is maybe $2000 above what I'd expect." "The price is risky. It's not much of a stretch to more premium nameplates like Acura's TSX or Saab's 9-3--although neither of them offers 250 horses and all-wheel drive."

That last point reminds us that, if you scratch beneath the GT's low-key looks, you'll find a machine unusually chockablock with interesting technical content, such as a boxer-configuration engine with variable-valve timing and an air-to-air intercooled turbocharger; a five-speed automatic directed by three shift strategies, or alternately, manumatic shift buttons a finger reach away on the wheel's spokes; and, of course, Fuji Heavy Industries's renowned AWD that variably distributes the engine's potential 250 pound-feet of torque to four stylish, 17x7.0-inch aluminum wheels.
All in all, a hardware tally worthy of the sticker price. And an interior upgrade that takes a Monty Python giant step toward Lexus levels of cosseting, including a moonroof, eight-way power driver's seat, leather-wrapped seats, steering wheel and shifter, and a six-CD in-dash player--and all assembled to a premium grade of fit and finish. Except, perhaps, for our GT's single trouble spot: the dual-zone climate-control system.
On a drive back to the L.A. basin from a Dave Matthews concert in San Francisco, the climate control suddenly went bipolar, flipping the temperature back and forth between hot and cold. This was brought to a mechanic's attention at the car's 15,000-mile service, where we were waved off with the ridiculous explanation that they all do that. Fortunately, at the next visit the problem was solved, with a tip from a reader who'd experienced the same temperature flip-flopping while driving on, strangely enough, the very same piece of roadway. So if you're driving from San Fran to L.A. and your climate control gets flippy, tell the mechanic to check the rpm sensor on the A/C's compressor.


