Feel free to call the CTS's lines anything you want. Any descriptor would be fair aside from "generic." The CTS is nothing if not different.
And different is fine, right up until it takes priority over taste. The CTS's interior looks like the result of ten different artists submitting ten conflicting ideas, all of which got the manager's stamp of approval. You have a mixed leather and wood steering wheel, odd curves and creases throughout, and a mix of mangled circles, rectangles, hemispheres, and other assorted polygons. Today's magic word is "juxtapose."
Another is "chaos," for the pieces coexist in disharmony. For one thing, it looks like a bodybuilder was hired to rip the center stack out of its roots and tilt it towards the driver. The acres of black get a little dour, and both the wood and the lettering on all the buttons look dorky. More pressing are the ergonomic flaws, such as the slightly annoying seat-mounted belts, the child-unsafe window switches, GM's nonsensical cruise and climate controls, and an obtusely inconvenient DVD navigation system that has buttons too many and one mouse too few. (It now features XM Nav Traffic to steer you clear of slow-moving roads for $12.99 a month.) Why must the clock, radio, and trip computer functions take part-time shifts in the main screen while the main odometer (who cares?) gets its own spot beside the major instruments? The rotary volume dial on the steering wheel seems like a good idea until you discover how easy it is to crank by accident. The map lights throw off narrow, weak beams of light. And if you're looking for the traction control switch, it's over there in the glovebox. Of course.
Let's finish this: few surfaces are pleasing to the touch, the plastic trim surrounding the flimsy-feeling door handle wiggles every time you use it, and the shift knob is falling off right now in our 3,000-miles-old test car. Something is amiss at the General when the $15,000 Chevrolet Cobalt can claim more logic in the controls, more taste in the design, and just as much class. Oh, and that economy car's optional Pioneer stereo beats the pants off of the Cadillac's bland Bose.
But for all the frustrations to the eyes, ears, and mind, the body will never know. The CTS's chairs fit as well as any, with flexible power adjustments and good shaping. They're slightly wide and soft, but not mushy. They're stitched with good leather, and there are good cupholders and consoles besides. (Skimpy glovebox, though.) And it does have adjustable lumbar support now, unlike at the outset. Now all it needs is a steering wheel that telescopes (imperative at this price), has smaller-degree steps in its tilt function, and isn't so giant and impersonal.
The more pleasant surprise is in the second row. Seat comfort isn't exceptional or anything, but it is nice and firm, the driveline bulge is fairly modest, and as one of the few genuine mid-size cars in its class, Cadillac clobbers the current crop of compact competitors. The somewhat high beltline reduces the feeling of spaciousness for everyone, though.
The well-designed trunk finishes the job with its above-average room.
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