I’m tooling around the hills of Santa Barbara in a 2017 Honda Clarity Fuel Cell. Powered by the fusion of hydrogen and oxygen, the Clarity emits only water, which could be the solution to California’s drought issues: drive to work, produce H20, water your garden when you get home.

But that’s not why the Clarity is only available out here in La La Land. Let me explain.

When my motorhead pals visit Michigan, they notice our state is a little different. They remark on the prevalence of Detroit-made cars rarely seen elsewhere — Lincolns, Cadillacs, Buicks. They get it, of course. Motown is the capital of U.S. autos even if they don’t dominate the landscape like they once did.

Visit California and it’s a lot different. Indeed, the Left Coast could be its own country.

Travel to $6-a-gallon Europe and the narrow streets are clogged with tiny tin cans rarely seen on this side of the pond: VW Polos, Mercedes B-Class, Smart ForTwos. The wocka-wocka of diesel engines is everywhere thanks to favorable tax treatment from devout green governments that believe fossil fuels a sin. So too, California.

The Green Church here worships the polar bear, so the tax credits flow — not to nitrogen oxide-heavy diesels but to electric vehicles. There are whole schools of fish rarely seen elsewhere on the continent: the Nissan Leaf, Ford C-Max, lots of Toyota Priuses and hydrogen-powered cars like my Clarity tester. Gas prices here average $3.20 a gallon, but Californians get a fat $5,000 rebate if they choose an electrified vehicle.

California’s GDP would make it the world’s sixth-richest country, and it’s America’s biggest auto market. That gives Sacramento’s green priests enormous market power. By 2025, 15 percent of automakers’ sales here must be “zero-emission vehicles” powered by batteries or fuel cells whether customers want them or not.

Thus my Clarity.

The name will be familiar to green nerds as the 2007 spawn of Honda’s hydrogen experiments. The 2017 is available not just with the moon-shot hydrogen fuel cell, but also in pure electric and plug-in versions like the compact Prius (hybrid/EV/plug-in variants) or Hyundai Ioniq (hybrid/EV/plug-in).

The plug-in Clarity, which starts in the mid-$30,000 range, will take on competitors like the Chevy Volt and Tesla Model 3 in all 50 states.

The Clarity Fuel Cell is a more exotic animal built only for California (the pure-electric will also be for that state only). Though Honda lists a sticker price of $59,365, the Clarity Fuel Cell is only available for lease at an expensive $369 per month. Which is a steal. Let me explain.

The upper-$300s sounds more like a first-class Acura than a coach-class Honda ($200 for a mid-size Accord, $170 for a Civic). But California’s $5,000 rebate reduces the Clarity’s payment by $140 a month, and Honda throws in the hydrogen fuel for free. That’s a $160-a-month fuel savings if you’re the average Accord driver.

Do the math: $369 minus $140 minus $160 equals $69 a month.

My Left Coast media peers took notice. “Are you kidding? I’ll take it for 69 bucks!” said one. “I’ve been paying California taxes through the nose subsidizing Leo DiCaprio’s Teslas and Fiskers. It’s my turn for a break!”

Wise-cracking scribes aside, Clarity suitors are likely to be green nerds. The Clarity is a natural date for the social-climbing owner of a Prius, Accord hybrid or Ford Fusion Energi.

The Clarity’s face makes a good first impression. The familiar Honda grille and jewel-eye headlamps are framed by vertical LED running lights that remind of a Cadillac CT6.

But then its wardrobe gets geeky. Hondas sit on front-wheel-drive platforms, but the Clarity’s front overhang is particularly long thanks to the drivetrain’s front packaging and fuel-efficient aero-ducts.

Green chic runs amok in the rear where the Clarity borrows a dual-window from green icons Prius and Chevy Volt. Covered aero-fenders recall Honda’s ill-fated nerd classic, the compact Insight. Think of the Clarity as a grown-up Insight.

Mature suede and leather materials distinguish the interior. The push-button shifter bridges console storage for smartphones and purses. Honda offers its first heads-up display. There’s seating for five.

But what you really want to know is whether I needed a hazmat suit to fuel this rolling Hindenburg.

The good news: Pumping hydrogen these days is as easy, safe and fast as gasoline. Pulling into a Santa Barbara Shell station, I nuzzled the Clarity up to the hydrogen pump, selected the quicker 10,000-psi setting, locked the nozzle over the Honda’s narrow filler and was done in minutes. The massive hydrogen tank eats into the Clarity’s trunk space (good luck storing big suitcases back there), but Honda assures that it’s built to withstand a punt in the rear by an SUV piloted by an oblivious texter.

The bad news? Hydrogen has serious infrastructure and environmental problems. Where filling stations and cell-tower infrastructure naturally followed the explosive growth of gas cars and portable phones, no one’s lining up to fuel scarce hydrogen cars (only Toyota and Hyundai make Clarity competitors). Which is why the government is building a 100-station infrastructure, one costly $1.5 million pump at a time. And extracting hydrogen from water burns a lot of energy. As environmentalist Joseph Romm bluntly put it: “As a CO2 reducer, hydrogen stinks.”

Back on the road, I stomp the gas — er, electrons — and the result is dynamite.

The fuel cell spins an electric motor which launches the 4,134-pound sedan like a catapult or a slower Tesla Model S. Unlike the Model S, the Clarity is a front-wheel driver, but still manages quick getaways without spasms of torque steer.

I drove the Clarity like a Motor City madman and occasionally explored its 103-mph top speed. Like an electric car, a lead foot quickly degrades the fuel cell’s range. But unlike the 240-mile Tesla and Bolt EVs, the Clarity gets a gas-like 369 miles of range. Under my whip, the digital instrument display still projected 264 miles of range until the next hydrogen station. If you can find one.

Given its limitations, Clarity should meet its modest Republic of California compliance sales goals. That is, until someone figures out how it can also water lawns.

Henry Payne is auto critic for The Detroit News. Find him at hpayne@detroitnews.com or Twitter @HenryEPayne.

2017 Honda Clarity Fuel Cell

Report card

Overall:★★★

Santa Barbara, Calif. – Against a tide of low consumer demand for battery-powered vehicles and loosening federal emissions rules, Honda announced this week that it will aggressively pursue vehicle electrification. With a goal of two-thirds of brand sales coming from battery or hydrogen-fuel cell vehicles by 2030, the Japanese manufacturer is bullish on alternative fuels.

Though a pioneer in battery and hydrogen powertrains beginning with its (now defunct) Insight hybrid in 2000, Honda has had little impact on the electric vehicle market and only sold one battery-powered model in 2016, the Accord Hybrid sedan. The move to electrification marks a significant shift for a brand that has built its U.S. success on gauging consumer demand for efficient, gas-powered small cars and crossovers.

In 2016 the Civic, CR-V and Accord were the three top-selling vehicles in the retail market – after full-size pickups – with combined sales of more than one million units.

“This is a long-term vision to make sustainable, electrified vehicles – true volume vehicles for Honda,” says Jim Burrell, assistant vice president for American Honda Environmental Business Development.

To mark Honda’s new product ambitions, Burrell and his team invited national media here to test drive its flagship EV, the Clarity Fuel Cell – the first of three alternative powertrain Clarity vehicles to hit the market this year. The others, a plug-in electric vehicle and full-EV, will be introduced at the New York Auto Show next month. Honda will also announce an all-new hybrid vehicle in 2018.

With its stylish design, roomy interior and 366-mile range, the Clarity Fuel Cell (initially offered only in California) is just the second hydrogen production car in the U.S. market (along with Toyota’s smaller Marij). It ranks with General Motors’ late-1990s EV-1 electric car and Chevy’s 2017 Bolt EV as ambitious efforts to change the course of vehicle propulsion away from gasoline.

Honda press materials say this change is driven by “society’s need for dramatic CO2 reductions (that) are real and immediate.”

“Honda is the only mainstream brand that has set an electrification goal that is this aggressive,” IHS senior auto analyst Stephanie Brinley says of the company’s 2030 target. “This is a statement that will set the tone in this company that this is what matters.”

What matters to American voters, however, seems to be more SUV production and less government regulation. According to a 2016 Gallup poll, global warming ranks 12th out of 13 in problems seen by Americans. Meanwhile, hybrid/electric vehicle sales have dropped to less than 3 percent of vehicle sales. The newly elected Trump administration reflects those priorities and has promised to reduce carbon emission mandates on automakers.

“Washington may not be supportive of (electrification),” acknowledges Honda’s Burrell. But he notes that the Trump administration will likely leave in place the waiver that allows California – the biggest auto market in the U.S. – to set its own greenhouse gas rules.

Burrel added: “If you focus on California, it is … driving a lot of this.”

IHS analyst Brinley agrees that government regulations are behind much of Honda’s product development. “They have to meet these emissions requirements not only in California but also in Japan, China and Europe,” she says. “And they are going to get stiffer.”

Honda long ago embraced the American market, backing up its sales with U.S. production. Honda now makes more cars in the U.S. (1.7 million) than in Japan (1.3 million). And it sells more of its U.S. production (from plants in Ohio, Indiana and Alabama) than any U.S. manufacturer except Ford.

With its electrification strategy, Burrell says that Honda is taking a risk given the apparent lack of consumer demand. But it’s not new territory for Honda.

“We don’t follow the same drummer as the rest of the industry,” he says. “In 1997 we introduced the compact CR-V crossover with unibody construction to what was then a non-existent segment. The car that started that segment was the CR-V.”

He says hydrogen and electric vehicles like the Clarity are also “something we genuinely believe in. Yes, the government requirements are a certain percentage of that, but we are at a point that (electrics) will take on a life of their own. Honda does things because it’s the right thing to do. This is best for the environment, and for Honda in the long term.”

Does anyone remember that Audi introduced a V10-powered, 200-mph drop-top R8 Spyder at last year’s New York Auto Show? I didn’t think so. That’s because the Audi, like everything else that year, was a footnote to the surprise reveal of the stunning Mazda MX-5 Miata RF (for Retractable Fastback) hardtop roadster.

No one saw it coming. After all, the best-selling sports car of all time is autodom’s puppy dog – playful, fun and adorable.

But sexy?

With its flying rear buttress b-pillars borrowed from Ferrari and fully automatic drop top borrowed from Corvette, the RF melted whatever snow was still on the ground in Gotham. In defiance of Soul Red Mazda tradition, the show car was painted Machine Gray – and still I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Baby got back.

A year later and the RF is ready for prime time. A show car no more, it made its much-anticipated media testing debut in San Diego this March. It didn’t disappoint. The RF (or maybe the RF is for Really Fantastic) is a head-turner with specs that make it the most capable Miata ever. And don’t think Mazda doesn’t know it: The RF will come with a $2,600 upcharge from the soft-top Miata compared to the old hardtop upcharge of $800.

Mazda anticipates that the RF will not only make up a healthy 60 percent of sales, but will attract more affluent female buyers to an already female-friendly brand.

I love the soft-top Miata. Unmoor the ragtop from the windscreen and it stows behind me as easily as throwing off a blanket. Feel raindrops? Reach back and pull it overhead like a quilt on a cold night. But I’m a long-armed ape. Smaller drivers will prefer the reduced air turbulence of the Targa top, and the simple, auto toggle-switch in the console that stows the roof in just 13 seconds (while creeping along at up to 6 mph in traffic).

Did I say Targa? Mazda can’t utter that copyrighted Porsche term but the comparison to the iconic 911 variant is deserved. Wee though it is, the RFs (Real Ferrari-like?) will also remind enthusiasts of 1960s lookers like the Ferrari 275 GTB. Such comparisons, Mazda hopes, will attract richer demographics as well. The sports car attracted plenty of gawkers during my morning sprint though the hills of Southern California.

But the RF’s beauty is more than skin deep.

Mazda claims much better aerodynamics which will perk the ears of Mazda’s driver enthusiast core. This is the most raced car in America after all. Mazda says that roll-hoop requirements will keep the Targa-top out of more serious SCCA club racing, but weekend warriors will no doubt notice higher straightaway speeds with the reduced drag coefficient. Mazda isn’t releasing numbers yet, but I’m betting the car-nut mags already have their testing equipment strapped to the car.

The Targa top is also a marvel of packaging – adding just 113 pounds to the 2,332-pound base Miata’s lithe frame, maintaining the car’s superb weight balance, and poaching not an inch on trunk space.

Otherwise, the Miata remains unchanged from the acclaimed fifth-generation roller skate that thrilled us just two years ago.

My RF date came after knee replacement surgery on my 6-foot-5 frame. I told my surgeon and physical therapist (who has suffered through four knee surgeries with my demands) that I had to have the strength and range-of-leg-motion to get into the smallest sports car made in just five weeks. She took the challenge in stride (probably because it didn’t sound as bonkers as a previous request that I had to race a Porsche just two weeks after arthroscopic surgery).

She got me to 110 degrees range of knee motion. That was (just) enough to fold into the MX-5’s cockpit which is the size of a large suitcase. Worse is the passenger compartment and its cramped dash. The glove compartment is between the seats, meaning I have to dislocate my shoulder in order to reach it. Going topless, my head stuck out of the roof, making my cranium the roll bar.

Once behind the wheel of MX-5, however, all ergonomic concerns are forgiven. Few cars are as fun to drive. Over Southern California’s twisted hills, the short-wheelbase RF was a tossable toy.

Mazda has set the table with all the tools right where they should be: Steering wheel straight ahead. Three gauges, tach in the middle. Short-throw, six-speed box. Peppy, 155-horse inline-4 engine. Accelerator and brake pedals perfectly spaced for heel-and-toe downshifts.

Those flying-buttress rear pillars might make a serious blind spot on a bigger car, but they’re not an issue in this go-kart. I can practically loosen the lug nuts on all four wheels without ever leaving the driver’s seat.

With its higher price point, Miata won’t bother with the base Sport trim – offering the RF only in Club and Grand Touring trims. My tester was the posh, leather- and nav-equipped GT, which is going to make life hard on the more upscale brand buyers looking at the Fiata (Fiat’s 124 Spider which shares a chassis with MX-5). My preference, though, is for the Club version with its stiffer Bilstein shocks and track-must, limited-slip rear differential.

The fifth-gen MX-5 is an important step for America’s favorite sports car. Iconic as it may be to Mazda’s ZOOM-ZOOM brand, the Miata had to be co-developed with Fiat in order to justify the enormous costs of a small production car. Sixty years on from European sports car nostalgia, the Mazda now has to set expectations for a new generation of buyers. The sharp, Mazda-esque styling of the soft top was bold – and now RF (for Reach Forward) sets a new bar.

Happily, Mazda’s crack team of engineers and marketing gurus seem up to the challenge of all that heavy lifting. Which means the toughest question you and I have to answer when we jump into the RF is: Should I buy it in Machine Gray or Soul Red?

Henry Payne is auto critic for The Detroit News. Find him at hpayne@detroitnews.com or Twitter @HenryEPayne.

2017 Mazda MX-5 Miata RF

Report card

Overall:★★★★

One of my favorite local restaurants is Bacco. This is no Olive Garden. From the fresh mozzarella and to the house-made pasta, the eatery on Northwestern Highway is an immersion in Italian flavor.

The compact luxury sedan market just got its own shot of authentic Italian goodness.

While our market has been rich in international choices — Japanese (Lexus, Infiniti, Acura), German (BMW, Mercedes, Audi), British (Jaguar), Korean (Genesis), American (Cadillac and Lincoln) — it has been lacking an Italian dish until 2017’s eagerly anticipated Alfa Romeo Giulia.

Like Bacco, its unique personality will satisfy its owner’s appetite. Alfa, of course, is Fiat Chrysler’s luxury brand — but you won’t find any American ingredients in this Italian. You can’t help but root for the latest member of a Chrysler family that’s been an underdog through years of adversity.

I don’t normally review a car twice in a year, but Giulia’s improbable odyssey in the boiling waters of America’s luxury market has begun remarkably well. Eyes rolled when mad genius CEO Sergio debuted not a base sedan like other automakers would, but the top-dog, 505-horse Quadrifoglio to take on King BMW M3.

Then the Giulia went out and set the Nurburgring lap record for sedans. Both Car and Driver and Motor Trend knighted it the best performance sedan on the market. Period. Better than the Cadillac ATS-V, Mercedes AMG and BMW M3. When the Giulia flashed across our screens in the Super Bowl ads, no one was snickering anymore. This rookie is an all-star.

Now it’s the customers’ turn and Giulia is on the menu at dealers. The spicy Quad debuted in December and the 2.0-liter models in recent weeks. A Quadrifoglio from the Detroit test fleet landed in my driveway in late February in a very different environment from where I tested it last fall in balmy Sonoma Valley, California. There, my fellow auto scribes and I tossed the Italian dish exuberantly over ribbons of sun-kissed California roads. Then we whipped it some more around the billiard-smooth Sonoma Raceway Park. Boot to the floor. Edge of the envelope. Throttle wide open.

We salivated over our Italian meal. But what is the saucy dish like (if you don’t mind my stretching the metaphor) to eat day after day?

Detroit in February is cold with rough roads and racetracks closed until summer. Would the Giulia wear me down? Would its bark cause heartburn? Its rigid suspension toothaches? Its rotary infotainment dial dementia?

With its raked stance, huge lower air vents and engorged wheel wells, the Quadrifoglio waited crouched to the ground. My wife’s friends were entranced by its sexy masculinity. Four tailpipes straddle a huge diffuser out back, telegraphing the car’s raw power. Angled headlights are spears poised behind a knight’s shield, Alfa’s signature “Trilobo” grille.

The steering wheel feels like a medieval weapon, too, with Alfa’s serpent and cross logo emblazoned across it, and a blood-red starter button on the left spoke ready for battle.

Push the button and the Alfa barks to life with that most Italian ingredient of all: a Ferrari engine.

It’s a variation on the V-8 howler from Ferrari’s California. With two cylinders sawed off, it’s a twin-turbo V-6. The resulting wail reminds one not of the prancing horse, but of that snarling little Alfa 4C sports car. I turn the driving mode dial to “dynamic,” nail the throttle and never want to lift my foot again. Initially muzzled by the turbos, the snarl builds, growling and spitting with each upshift until peaking at a deranged, 6,500-rpm yawp.

That redline comes fast.

Waves of twin-turbo torque rolled in over 3,000 rpm —as the landscape suddenly rushed by. Want to activate launch control at a Woodward stoplight? Simple. Left foot brake, right leg full throttle, let revs even out 2 grand, drop the brake. Pow. Zero to 60 in 3.8 seconds.

Though the sinewy steel chassis won’t be confused with the 4C’s race car-like carbon fiber skeleton, the Giulia felt small in my hands. Its easy maneuverability was enhanced by a steering wheel with just 2.3 turns lock-to-lock. Beat up after miles of Motown roads, I just punched the thoughtful, suspension-softening button on the MODE dial to ease the ride punishment without softening the V-6’s fury.

Blowing through Metro Detroit lake country, rapid closing speeds would occasionally set off the collision warning system. The accented chime — toot, toot, toot — is unmistakably Italian. Fortunately, my tester was dressed in stealthy “Vulcan Black.” Had it been painted the very Italian “Competizione Red” I drove at Sonoma, I would have attracted every patrolman in town.

Like a Yankee in Old Europe, I have my quibbles. The rear seats are built for small Romans. The stop-start system annoys. There is no manual transmission option. Italian authenticity is crucial to the brand, but I pine for Chrysler’s superb Uconnect infotainment system over the Italian’s lesser, rotary dial-controlled unit.

For all of its unique flavors, however, Quadrifoglio is no quirky daily driver. Quite the opposite. The tomb-quiet interior is luxurious. Dial the mode selector to ECO and you can rock a baby to sleep in the back seat. Red-stitched interior materials flow easily across horizontal dash lines.

My full-course meal Quadrifoglio topped out $83,000, complete with extravagant carbon touches like $5,500 carbon-ceramic brakes. But the volume-selling Giulia Ti can be had for almost half that and still salve your Italian palette. It has the same sexy design. Same hot wheels.

The Ti’s turbo-4 may not have 443 pound-feet of torque that the V-6 has (though most will find its 310-pound feet plenty, thank you), but it does come paired with something the Quad can’t offer: all wheel-drive for when the Michigan snows come.

Bravissimo!

Henry Payne is auto critic for The Detroit News. Find him at hpayne@detroitnews.com or Twitter @HenryEPayne.

2017 Alfa Romeo Giulia

Report card

Overall:★★★★

I first encountered the Infiniti QX70 at a rental counter at Christmas in St. Louis. Normally $125, it was the daily special at just $30 a day — just $10 more a day than my usual Nissanfordyota Altimafusionry sedan. Best gift I could have given to myself.

The SUV arrived around the rental building like Jim Carrey’s limo in “The Mask” — headlights followed by five miles of hood. That’s a crossover?

The QX70 is Infiniti’s cure for the common midsize ute. Like BMW X6 or Maserati Levante, its rear-wheel drive platform and coupe-like roof defy SUV convention. Initial impressions are that Frankenstein tried to make a sports car out of SUV parts. Shark-like gills (for better brake ducting) aft of the front fenders and tapered C-pillar (who needs rear quarter visibility?) add to the effect.

Like a cat set to spring on its haunches, the ute draws you near. The “3.7” stamped on the front fender suggests the stance is backed up by engine-room muscle. I turn the key and the big, 325 horsepower V-6 jumped to life with a growl of the twin tailpipes.

QX70 was built to boogie.

Which is in keeping with the market positioning of Nissan’s luxury brand as the sporty Asian. Cruise the internet and you’ll find, say, Acura dealers comparing RDXs against the QX70s. Japanese luxe vs. Japanese luxe. Their 28 mpg RDX fuel economy vs. QX’s 24. Roomier RDX interior. Cheaper sticker. But you might as well be comparing Miso soup and fried ice cream.

The QX70 is a different meal meant for a spicier, more European appetite. The QX70 V-6 has a whopping 46 more ponies than the RDX V-6. Infiniti once referred to it as the “bionic cheetah.” This cat moves.

The $48,645 QX70 is best compared as a more affordable $60,650 Porsche Cayenne, which launched in the same year — 2003 — as the Infiniti. Yes, the Cayenne. You know the Porsche, but the Infiniti — first known as the FX45 — was also an early 2-st century pioneer of the sporty sport ute (since followed by BMW, Mercedes and Maserati with their own snarly utes).

The German and Asian even look alike from the side with their soap-smooth lines and fastback shapes. As the QX70’s cheaper sticker suggests, the Infiniti is less ambitious in the drivetrain (though it once optioned a V-8)) and chassis engineering departments.

Nissan/Infiniti makes for an interesting banquet table. Parent Nissan’s core offerings are standard-issue appliances — Sentra, Altima, Rogue, Pathfinder — that excel at utility if not at accelerating your heartbeat. For that duty the Nissan family has a fleet of bad boys: the Juke, 380Z and the earth-pawing GT-R beast (better known to motorheads as “Godzilla”).

These hellions would seem better suited to Infiniti’s sporty lineup with their growly exhaust notes and muscled haunches. Infiniti even shares its engine with the Z. It’s not hard to imagine a Godzilla version of my QX70 tester: All-wheel drive. Twin-turbo V-6. Rear wing on the roof. Call it QX70 GT-R and sic it on a BMW X6 M.

Infiniti has dabbled in racing over the years with IndyCars, sports racers (a racing pal stomps around the vintage circuit in an Infiniti-powered V-8 IMSA prototype) and Formula One. The experience is rubbing off on its production lineup: the sexy Q50 sedan, racy Q60 coupe and curvy QX30. The QX70 may be the most head-turning of the family.

It’s not just the long hood and big engine. Approach QX70 from the rear and it looks like something that rolled out of a spaceship. The round shape (are those Martians peering out of the rear window?) takes in swollen rear-wheel wells, giving the car a planted stance. Artistic, angled rear lights decorate the shoulders.

Inside, these visual effects demand compromise. With its long hood and huge front fenders, the Infiniti looks like it was inspired by a 1960s Jaguar. “That’s not a hood, it’s a bow,” commented Mrs. Payne, straining to see over the Q-ship.

With the QX70 sitting so far back on its haunches, the rear wells encroach on rear seat egress. A long-legged 6-foot-5, I had to turn sideways to get my legs out of the narrow door opening. The coupe-like roof does not sacrifice as much head space as you might think, but the rear blind spot (as already suggested) is as big as Alaska. Thankfully, the Infiniti comes with blind-spot detection as part of a safety package.

As far as drawbacks go, I found the QX70’s technology is lacking relative to similar-priced bionic cheetahs. Infiniti’s infotainment layout reminds me of the Ford Escape crossover. But the Escape’s screen is more responsive and its infotainment choices more robust, including Apple CarPlay and Android Auto.

I warmed quickly, however, to QX70’s seat-temperature controls — heating and cooling all on one rotary dial just like air-temperature controls.

For 2017, Infiniti has rolled out a Limited edition which introduces a new mesh grille, wicked black 21-inch wheels and a Vegas penthouse of interior materials including black quilted doors, white quilted seats and “aluminum flake” console trim. What, no mirror on the ceiling?

Under the skin, however, nothing changes, which will be the challenge for this sports ute in a midsize class that now features a pair of famous sports brands, Jaguar and Alfa Romeo, whose respective F-Pace and Stelvio are also rear-wheel-drive platforms with AWD capability.

I drove the F-Pace last year and its handling is superior even as its interior lacks inspiration compared to other luxury class leaders.

The Stelvio may be a tougher opponent. I have yet to drive Alfa’s crossover (first tests are later this year), but it is essentially the taller brother of the Giulia sedan, which is one of the best-handling chariots made. The Alfa’s interior is luxury-grade with sweeping lines and a superb BMW-like rotary dial. Add the Italian’s two engine choices, and suddenly the Infiniti’s $48,000 price tag (already north of Jaguar) is going to roll eyeballs.

Credit the Infiniti for being easy on the eyes, though. With its strong legs and Ashley Graham lines, it was an early indicator that plus-size SUVs can be sexy, too.

Henry Payne is auto critic for The Detroit News. Find him at hpayne@detroitnews.com or Twitter @HenryEPayne.

2017 Infiniti QX70

Report card

Overall:★★★