Buick is perhaps the nation's most underappreciated automotive nameplate. Studies by Morgan Stanley, J.D. Power, and even General Motors' own internal researchers reveal that although Buick quality ranks in the industry's highest tier, consumers rate the brand far below average. When I spent a week driving the LaCrosse–Buick's replacement for the Regal and the Century, which it is retiring–I got a good glimpse why.

Mechanically, I found the LaCrosse to be surprisingly solid–compared not just to my own modest expectations but also to top competitors like the Toyota Camry and the Honda Accord. The ride is remarkably quiet, as good as in more expensive luxury vehicles. That helps create a serene experience, even on the most truck-traveled highways. The 240-horsepower V-6 engine on the top-line CXS is as smooth, quick, and refined as the top-line Accord's 260-horsepower barnburner, an industry benchmark. Though it's smooth enough to lull the fussiest baby to sleep, the LaCrosse is also fast enough to blow the doors off any unsuspecting challengers.

But that wouldn't be very Buick-like, now would it? And in that conundrum lies Buick's identity crisis. The LaCrosse has underpinnings that could make it a sporty, even sassy sedan. But it also has to uphold Buick's reputation for predictable, reliable, uncontroversial middlinghood. So instead of tight, European steering and grippy handling–the kind of attributes that might attract actual driving enthusiasts–there's too much play in the wheel and a squishy feel on corners that reminds you of your parents' car. The interior is another missed opportunity. There's lots of passenger room and storage space, but the dashboard is a bland assortment of buttons with little zest or style. And the plastic "wood" trim on the upscale CXS is so predictably phony that it should be banned from vehicle interiors. I like the LaCrosse, and I want to yell at it: "Take a few risks! Let your hair down!" I guess I don't fully appreciate Buick either.