Looking back on my history of car ownership, I realize I have ping-ponged between trucks/SUVs and coupes. I’ve owned very few sedans, and I haven’t kept them for long. I’m definitely in touch with why I love trucks and SUVs – it’s the utility. It’s the belt and suspenders part of my personality, the part that wants to be ready for anything, anytime. My love of coupes, though, has demanded more introspection.
Luckily, I got a chance to spend a week behind the wheel of a 2020 Lexus RC F 2-Door Coupe recently, and I think I figured it out.
Let’s jump right in.
RC F has great lines, with a sporty, elegant profile and an assertive stance, and the car is poised like a sprinter in the starting blocks. The wheel arches are filled with staggered width 19-inch wheels. Up front, the big, open “spindle” grille serves as a gaping mouth, while the bi-LED headlamps underlined by LED DRL. The roofline is fast, with a quick finish to a short decklid, housing a speed-activated rear wing which (thankfully, for the shy driver) defaults to a flush docked position. Quad chrome tips poke out of the lower rear fascia, ready to burble exhaust notes.
Much of the front fascia seems devoted to aerodynamics and managing air flow. There are no external bumpers, per se, though you can see the structure behind the grille. I’d be really careful parking the RC F – a low-speed collision with a pole or garage wall could result in a very costly repair. The rear fascia is a little less detailed, and appears a little less fragile.
Coupe critics complain about coupe doors, which are generally six or more inches longer than sedan doors on comparably sized vehicles. You need more space to open coupe doors fully. Coupe doors are bigger and heavier than sedan doors, which puts more stress on hinges. Despite their greater length, coupe doors still require second-row passengers to squeeze in past the door frame and front seat.
While I confirm the coupe critics’ complaints, I counter with compliments.
A bigger front door makes it easier for the driver and front-seat passenger to enter and exit the vehicle. The weight of RC F’s doors is manageable and well-balanced, and there’s no obvious strain on the hinges. Getting in and out of the second row is mildly inconvenient, but at six-feet two-inches tall with creaky joints and size 14 barges for feet, I had no problem getting in and out without an assist (or a crane). Headroom was fine, though I could have used more legroom for a long ride. I rarely carry second-row passengers – maybe two or three times a year, at most — so the tradeoffs would be worth it to me. Call me a selfish aesthete, but the ease of entry and exit along with a gorgeous, genuine coupe silhouette make the two-door my car of choice.
Inside, RC F also hits the mark. It has a crisply tailored cockpit, with a beautifully trimmed dashboard and center console. I particularly like the perfectly aligned HVAC vents, which combine looks, function and location to break up the visual field of the dashboard. My test RC F came with an expensive ($11,400) yet stunning Performance Package, which included a host of carbon fiber trim and aero pieces on the exterior and interior, and after some heavy math (seven years of ownership = 2,555 days x $4.46/day = $11,400 more or less = less than $5/day to have the cool carbon fiber = sold?), I think I’d order that feature.
Another option that required no math for me was the $2,725 Navigation System with Mark Levinson Audio. The 17-speaker, 835-watt sound system is one of the best car audio systems I’ve ever heard. I’m not a fan of the remote touchpad in the center console, which I can only ever get good results from when the RC F is at a complete stop. I suspect that time and practice would improve my interactions, but a week wasn’t long enough to make me a competent operator.
The biggest joy of the RC F, though, is the driving experience. A 472-hp, 5.0-liter V8 gasoline engine lurks beneath the long hood, ready to pump 395 lb-ft of torque to the rear wheels through an eight-speed automatic transmission. The powertrain comes as a pleasant surprise in the tidy RC F, as it sounds and feels like it belongs in a muscle car, not a Japanese luxury coupe. Which is not to imply that it’s unruly or sloppy – I’d have to describe it as lusty. That’s a compliment.
Driving around in the RC F is a blast. It corners like a shark, accelerates like a charging bull, and romps like a stallion. I had to keep a close eye on the speedometer, because RC F can cruise smoothly at deceptive speeds.
There are other performance luxury coupes on the market that match up well with the Lexus RC F. The Mercedes-AMG C 63 Coupe, BMW M4 Coupe, Infiniti Q60 Red Sport 400 and Audi RS 5 Coupe are good examples. I’d also include non-luxury Dodge Challenger and Ford Mustang, lusty V8 muscle cars, in my coupe comparison.
The 2020 Lexus RC F starts at $64,900 ($89,654 as tested).
Does my preference for a coupe make me a selfish person, since I’d rather have everyday comfort and convenience as a driver than occasional comfort and convenience for my passengers? Does it make me shallow, since I value appearance over practicality? I don’t know. I appreciate the coupe for its honesty. It’s not pretending to be a car for all people, for all purposes. And that makes sense to me. So does the RC F.
Disclaimer: The manufacturer provided the vehicle used to conduct this test drive and review.
Photos (c) Lexus
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