What happens when you mix sky-high fuel prices with a rollback of EV incentives? A boom in hybrid sales, as it turns out. A year after Congress officially ended America’s electric vehicle subsidies, we’ve seen an unsurprising decline in EV sales. But as the stagnant and unfavorable geopolitical climate continues to put pressure on global fuel prices, Many (though clearly not all) buyers are turning to hybrids for their new-car purchases, and companies like Toyota are reaping the benefits. But with hybrid sales exploding, why the heck is no one buying the Prius?
Let me give you some context. At this point last year, automakers with deep EV portfolios were doing everything they could to blow out their inventory while they could still send customers home with some cash in their pockets. Toyota would have been pushing its U.S.-built plug-in hybrid models hard, while the Prius languished despite a strong start to 2025. Toyota sold only 2,011 of them last September. This year, without that same EV pressure, that number fell again—to just 1,897.
Toyota moved more than 25,000 Camry Hybrids and more than 28,000 RAV4 Hybrids in the same period. In fact, the only hybrids in the Toyota lineup that sold worse than the Prius last month were the Corolla Cross (1,821), Tacoma (1,705), the Highlander (1,088), and the Crown (406). Toyota sold more BZ EVs in September than regular Prius hybrids; you have to throw in the plug-in variant just to sneak past the EV. Consequently, in a year when hybrids are taking market share left and right, the industry’s best-known model is headed in the opposite direction. Year to date, Prius sales are down 51%, to just 16,731.
Are Toyota buyers spoiled for choice, or is America just over the Prius?
Plenty of support backs the former argument. Toyota sells multiple hybrids in its own showroom that compete with the Prius, including the Corolla and Corolla Cross; even the Camry and RAV4 overlap in price. Like the Prius, the hybrid Corollas move in modest numbers, especially compared with their gas-powered sibling. Toyota has sold nearly 200,000 ICE Corollas so far in 2025, to just over 34,000 hybrids. Not even close.
But even if there’s a case for cannibalization, there’s still one more factor to consider: the Prius is actually kind of cool now. I’d certainly rather drive this than any Corolla short of a GR. Clearly, many Toyota buyers feel differently. Bummer.
Ten years (and about a half-dozen daily drivers) ago, I purchased a brand-new Ford Fiesta ST. Back then, when you bought one of Ford’s fun cars, the company threw in a complimentary day of driver “education” at what we colloquially call Utah Motorsports Park. If you bought a either the Focus or Fiesta ST, that program took the form of ST Octane Academy.
The Academy was a day-long school that mixed time on track with classroom sessions and a massive autocross/gymkhana course. It was in that sea of cones that we were expected to apply all of the knowledge we’d gained throughout the day for a best-of-three timed runoff—with trophies and all. As one of the few in the room with any prior autocross experience, I was salivating at the prospect of climbing to the top of our small classroom podium. You can’t win a track day, after all, but you certainly can win an autocross.
There was a catch, however: this wasn’t a traditional autocross, and these weren’t entirely stock cars. While both of Ford’s hot hatches came with an old-fashioned hand brake, these had custom-fabricated “drift” brakes instead. Functionally, they’re not really all that different. They both engage the rear brakes with the yank of a handle; the major difference is that a drift brake lacks the latching detents you find in a regular hand brake. When you let go, it simply springs back to the “off” position.
That renders it useless for holding your car stationary on a hill while you visit a restaurant, but it’s super helpful if you’re trying to break a car’s rear end loose on command. And that’s precisely what our instructors (and, at this point, scorers) wanted us to do just a few seconds into the course, where they’d placed a 180-degree turn so tight that we simply had no choice but to attempt a j-turn.
If you’ve ever autocrossed with people who take it seriously (which is most of them), you already know that getting sideways is often frowned upon. Sure, some cars drive loose, but a good course is designed so that it can be negotiated without resorting to the sort of trickery expected of us here.
Ford
Since I considered myself one of those autocrossers who took it seriously back then, I felt a bit personally offended that such showboaty tomfoolery was going to count against my time. In my mind, “sideways” was synonymous with “slow,” and this “drift brake” was nothing but an equalizer designed to keep people like me from dominating the newbies.
Suffice it to say that I’ve mellowed quite a bit over the past decade. My inner old man may still be yelling at clouds over the fact that the EcoBoost Mustang lost its stick-shift with the S650 redesign, but I don’t view the RTR’s drift brake with the same ire I might have ten years ago. In fact, I consider myself a full-blown convert; that turbocharged RTR Mustang is actually a fun little package.
As it turns out, I actually just miss the entire notion of a hand brake. It’s one of those things whose utility is made more obvious by its absence, and where a dual-clutch gearbox can do a respectable impression of a manual in some cases, a button-activated parking brake, while perfectly adequate for use as an actual parking brake, is even more useless than a pedal-activated parking brake when it comes to traction management.
Even in the dwindling population of cars still available with a manual transmission, the old-fashioned, pull-handle parking brake is virtually extinct. Almost every one of them has been replaced by an electronic button or switch. In a way it’s strange and funny that Ford and RTR had to come together to engineer a hand brake back into the Mustang; it hasn’t even been gone long enough for anybody to really miss it.
But miss it, I do. Like the manual gearbox, it’s yet another tool we no longer have access to. It was just another sacrifice in the name of saving space—and saving somebody else money. And so I’m glad Ford and RTR took the time (and resources) to keep some part of that functionality alive. It’s nice to see that somebody still thinks “It’s just fun” is a good enough reason to do something.
Oh, and that autocross? I finished third. Yep, still bitter, just less.
The 2026 Ford Mustang RTR is a lot of things. It’s turbocharged, loaded with performance-package goodies, and tuned to let you have as much fun as possible before its electronic babysitters kick in. But despite its badge and all that implies, the Mustang RTR is not actually a drift car. But it could be.
First, let’s go over the recipe Ford cooked up. At a brief glance at the spec sheet, you might mistake the RTR for just a visual punch-up package, but don’t let the 315-horsepower output fool you. There’s actually quite a bit going on here. Compared to a stock EcoBoost, the RTR ships with a Torsen limited-slip differential (3.55:1), Brembo brakes, an active exhaust, a unique spoiler, a custom suspension, and wider wheels. It even has a unique calibration for the optional MagneRide suspension and, to top it all off, nearly 20% more maximum steering angle.
This all comes at a price—well, two prices, really. There’s a literal increase of $6,520; there’s also the metaphorical weight penalty of about 200 pounds over a base EcoBoost. Part of that comes from the added mass of the Dark Horse’s rear subframe, which the RTR uses; it also lifts the front and rear sway bars and adjustable strut top mounts from the Dark Horse’s Handling Pack. All in, that makes the RTR nearly as hefty as a zero-option Mustang GT, which comes with the 5.0-liter Coyote V8.
This isn’t the first time we’ve seen a fun Mustang built around something other than a V8. We’ve seen turbocharged SVOs, the V6-powered “Mayhem,” and most recently, the EcoBoost High Performance Package. Each time, the formula has been pretty much the same: Offer the performance advantages of a high-spec GT without having to spring for the eight-cylinder upgrade. Not only do you spend less up front, but if you plan to take it to the track, your consumable prices (fuel, tires, etc.) will be lower too. Win-win.
Gittin It
Vaughn Gittin Jr. and his merry band of miscreants didn’t build “RTR” just to go a little faster around a race track. It doesn’t stand for “Ready to Race,” after all; it stands for “Ready to Rock.” That doesn’t mean you couldn’t build the RTR into a race car; that’s entirely within its brief. But really, the RTR is the latest in an intermittent line of cars built for a singular, but catch-all purpose: hooning.
Remember the Focus RS, with its over-the-top all-wheel-drive system and “drift mode” toggle? This is like that, only it’s a rear-wheel-drive pony car, not a ‘roided-out hot hatchback. The Mustang is longer and far more graceful in rotation than the Focus ever was, making it a more natural platform for something that wants to go sideways.
From the description, the RTR sounds like it might be a bit of a handful, but on the road, that couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, if you set off in the RTR without activating Sport mode, the only tell you’re driving anything other than a base EcoBoost Mustang is the abundance of “Hyper Lime” accents.
It helps, of course, that all the test vehicles had Ford’s MagneRide adaptive dampers (a $1,750 standalone option), but even with the firmness Sport mode adds, the RTR’s ride isn’t punishing. If anything, that’s the Mustang chassis’s sweet spot. The one thing that does get a bit rougher as you dial up the aggression is the exhaust note. It doesn’t sound bad; it just doesn’t really sound like much of anything.
A Different Approach
The RTR may weigh about as much as a Mustang GT, but it wears its surplus weight more gracefully than its V8-powered sibling. The Coyote’s extra mass sits up front, where you least want it. That big engine wants to lead you around; the smaller EcoBoost isn’t quite so insistent. Combined with the RTR’s bonus steering angle, this little thing really enjoys rotating—which, again, sounds a bit sketchy in a car like this, but that’s where the last unique element comes in: the drive mode calibration.
These days, most even remotely sporty or youthful cars have a drive mode that eases off stability and traction control, letting the driver get closer to the limit of grip when the car starts to rotate. Proper performance cars, like the Mustang, tend to have more than one. Here, for example, you’ve got both Sport and Track modes. Typically, Track mode (or its equivalent) is rather lenient, but the stability control will still attempt to intervene before you can get the car completely crossed up.
And at some point during the RTR’s development, somebody dared to ask the obvious question: “Does it have to intervene?” After all, Track mode gives most drivers enough rope to hang themselves already, so what harm would it do to teach the car’s calibration to allow more rear-end tomfoolery? Apparently, nobody came up with a good enough reason not to, and the RTR’s software advantage was born. Couple that with a physical “drift brake,” and you’ve got the makings of a fun, funky little car.
Like, Sideways
If the RTR is trying to defy the “drift car” label, its hand brake certainly isn’t helping. If you’ve looked around lately, you’ve probably noticed that legit handbrakes have gone extinct. Even in most cars with a six-speed stick, you get an electronically actuated parking brake. This, meanwhile, is a manual handbrake that doesn’t function as a parking brake; its sole job is to temporarily break rear traction.
Stupid, right? It is, in the best possible way.
From a purely enthusiast standpoint, there’s no downside. The RTR steers quicker and harder, rotates more before the computers intervene, and looks pretty good doing it. What’s not to like (ahem, besides the mandatory 10-speed automatic)? To prove the point, RTR set us up with some track time on Thunderhill’s West circuit to see exactly what their playful little pony could do.
I don’t think I’m that old, but I’m old enough to have shopped for brand-new Mustangs back when a 315-horsepower, 4.6-liter V8 was the top dog; this 2.3-liter 4-pot even has more torque, but it also has more work to do. Down on cylinders, though, this little Mustang may weigh nearly 300 pounds more than that old Mod-motor GT.
By modern standards, I would hesitate to call the RTR Mustang “fast,” but it gets out of its own way well enough. Pushing all that tire out to the corners gives the RTR an aggressive look, to be sure, but it also increases the feedback you feel in the front end. On a modern performance car with electric power steering, every bit of communication counts. Fortunately, part of that hefty curb weight comes from the RTR’s big brakes. Six-piston Brembos grab the 15.4-inch front calipers; four-piston fixed calipers clamp down on 14-inch discs out back. They work splendidly.
Nimble and Predictable
The RTR’s tendency to rotate works both for and against it when it comes to fast lap times. Turn-in is crisp and rewarding, but the RTR tends to get squirmy under hard downhill braking, and despite its nimble character, it’s still a lot of car. Get off the brakes before you have it collected, and that rear end will take you for a ride. Fortunately, this is the sort of car that likes to be driven a bit loose. Still, open lapping isn’t the best place to get sideways. Fortunately, RTR scored us some time on a skidpad to do just that.
I say RTR, but in this case, I really mean Gittin himself. While the RTR Mustang may be his baby, this side of the house is obviously where he feels most at home. And because he wanted me to get the most out of my time in the RTR, he structured my skidpad session as a miniature clinic on getting sideways.
Until you’re in Track mode with the proper toggle enabled, the RTR’s drift brake lies dormant. Once it’s enabled, you can modulate it like a real handbrake, only it springs back to the rest position immediately after you release it. There’s no way to latch it in place. It responds like an analog brake, so you need to use it decisively if you want to break traction.
Zero to Hero
If you’ve ever done handbrake turns in an empty parking lot, you’ll feel right at home with the RTR’s drift brake. The action is natural and predictable. Like a real handbrake, you can use it in concert with the throttle, and, like a real handbrake, you can completely overpower it if you’re using too much right foot.
The skidpad was divided into two stages. The first half was designed to get me comfortable with the basics (J-turns and pirouettes), and the second half was structured to help me learn transitions—the trickiest thing for beginner drifters. Getting loose in one direction is easy. Weaving from one to the other like you know what you’re doing? That’s a lot tougher.
After 30 minutes and about a million hoots, hollers, and grins, I would have been perfectly content to stay right there and keep working on transitions. It’s hard to describe the sensation of using a handbrake in 2026, except to say it simply feels right.
The Early Verdict
Ultimately, that’s how I feel about the RTR itself. It’s not a drift car, and it’s not a track car, but it can be either. And that feels right. This car gives enthusiasts a jumping-off point from which to build pretty much anything. A drift car? Certainly. A track or autocross car? Why not? The bigger wheels and tires don’t make it too well-suited to drag racing, I suppose, but even that is fixable.
The field of fun, sub-$45,000 cars is awfully barren these days. The 2026 Ford Mustang RTR slides in just under that threshold, and offers a lot of fun for the dollar in a segment that lacks high-output, rear-wheel-drive entries. Apart from the Nissan Z and the now-departed Toyota Supra, this price range is largely the domain of high-output hatchbacks and low-output sports cars. As compromises go, the RTR doesn’t seem so bad in this company.
Ford provided The Drive with travel, accommodations, access to Sonoma Raceway, and the use of a vehicle for the purpose of writing this review.
Do you own a fun car with a dual-clutch automatic transmission and sometimes wish you would have gotten a stick? These days, it may not even be your fault. Plenty of fun cars are sold exclusively with paddle-shifted automatics, and they’re probably faster (and safer) in the hands of mortal drivers as a result. But driving enjoyment doesn’t always come from being quick, and the art of operating a manual is something many enthusiasts still embrace.
Enter the Quickshift, from Limitless Engineering—a new effort from Ferris Rezvani (yep, that Rezvani). This fancy little piece of machinery puts a gated manual shifter in the palm of your hand. It’s designed to interface with your car’s existing transmission control system, allowing you to crack off manual, rev-matched shifts as if your car had a full three-pedal setup. And the best part? Limitless says it installs in hours and requires no permanent modifications to your car.
And when I say “your” car, in this case, I mean it fairly literally. Limitless showed off a demonstrator of the kit in a Ferrari 458, but Rezvani himself says the system can be adapted to work in any car.
“Modern cars have amazing technology, but along the way they’ve lost the emotion,” Rezvani said.
“Quickshift is not meant to be an old fashioned manual but the modern version of a manual; giving drivers the tactile gated feel to row your own gears without a clutch pedal to slow you down,” Rezvani said.
“The way you interact with the car matters,”Rezvani continued. “Reaching for a gated shifter, feeling it move into position, hearing the engine respond; that creates an emotional connection. Quickshift is about giving drivers more of those moments.”
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So, what’s the catch? Well, for starters, Rezvani isn’t exactly known for budget-friendly projects. In fact, the company’s web site boasts about its bespoke commission program. Sure, Limitless can probably build you one of these for the ratty, 20-year-old GTI you occasionally see on Facebook Marketplace, but it would probably cost you more than the purchase of the car itself—perhaps several times over. In that same vein, the cost to integrate this kit cleanly into your car’s interior is likely to vary wildly depending on what you’re driving. This is very likely an “if you have to ask…” type situation.
And after all that, you still don’t get a clutch pedal out of the deal.
The 2027 Jeep Cherokee has finally earned its “Trail-Rated” badge with the introduction of a Trailhawk. Once upon a time, Jeeps held virtually indefensible positions at the top of their respective segments when it came to off-road capability. These days, the 4×4-adjacent space is much more crowded, and simply wearing a Jeep badge isn’t a guarantee of automatic victory anymore.
Given that the new Cherokee shares its basic formula with the model it replaced, you probably won’t be surprised to learn that the new car isn’t exactly a quantum leap forward in capability. That said, the new midsizer does have a couple of tricks up its sleeve. It offers 9.0 inches of ground clearance thanks to a 1.0-inch lift over the standard Cherokee, and according to Jeep, it can ford 24 inches of water.
But the real party piece is Jeep’s “Active Drive II” all-wheel-drive system, which incorporates a two-speed transfer case and an electronic locking rear differential. The former is a segment exclusive, and Ford is the only competitor with a mechanical locking rear axle.
Year/Make/Model
Ground Clearance
Approach Angle
Breakover Angle
Departure Angle
Low Range
Locking Rear
2027 Jeep Cherokee Trailhawk
9.0 in
28.8°
21.9°
31.8°
Yes
Yes
2026 Subaru Forester Wilderness
9.3 in
23.5°
21.0°
25.5°
No
No
2026 Honda CR-V TrailSport
8.2 in
17.7°
N/A*
22.1°
No
No
2026 Toyota RAV4 Adventure
8.5 in
20.0°
N/A*
24.0°
No
No
2026 Ford Bronco Sport Sasquatch
8.7 in
31.2°
21.7°
27.9°
No
Yes
*Breakover angle is not published officially by Honda or Toyota for these trim levels.
On paper, Jeep is clearly aiming for a segment-best entry here. The Bronco Sport brings similar mechanical capability (and even has the advantage in approach angle) but lacks a proper crawl ratio. Subaru enjoys an advantage in ground clearance, but relies on its fairly rudimentary X-Drive programming for the technical bits.
We’ll have to see exactly how this plays out in the real world, especially since one of Jeep’s main drawbacks doesn’t appear here: size. The Cherokee leans toward the midsize space much the same way the Compass leans subcompact, and that extra length and width will work against it when trails get tight.