This car puzzles me. When I first climbed in, I marveled at the titanium-colored plate into which the manual shifter disappeared, a crisp Scandinavian twist on the usual leather or rubber bag. The driver's seat gripped me as if I had landed in the cockpit of a fighter jet and needed to be secured for high-G maneuvers. The dashboard controls were carefully canted toward the driver's seat, which made the car seem friendly and welcoming.

Then I put my coffee mug into one of the cupholders and it directly interfered with my ability to reach the shifter. After trying a couple of configurations, I finally drove off with my coffee between my legs, never a promising way to start the day. Other small annoyances emerged. A few minutes into my first ride, I noticed that the armrest, notched into the door, seemed to end a couple of inches too early, since my elbow kept bumping into door's hard surface. That minor discomfort got more pronounced the longer the trip was. And there was something odd about the side-view mirrors–they were too small. I could never get a comfortable view of what was coming next to me and I kept adjusing them, never to my satisfaction.

I loved the S60's road manners. The top-tier turbocharged five-cylinder engine on the test model was whisper-quiet and potent, enthusiastically fulfilling the commands of my foot even when the air conditioner was on high. The S60 handled marvelously, effortless and unassuming around town, yet firm and vibrant in the curves. Other sport sedans in the mid-$30s might outperform the S60 on pure performance measures, yet the Volvo brings it all together. It's fun and vivacious when you want it to be, with a thick veneer of class.

So what's with the weird ergonomics? The impression I got is that the S60 has been artfully engineered, but somewhere along the line, somebody skipped a dummy test or two–making sure all the great ideas work in the real world. The cupholders, for instance, probably aren't a problem on models with an automatic transmission, the usual choice for most drivers. But anybody who wants the active control that comes with a manual will notice this conflict in an instant. I was also surprised at the tight confines of the back seat. The S60, Volvo's mid-level sedan, has less rear legroom than the entry-level S40, and taller people or those uncomfortable stooping will not find the rear seat inviting. The limited space is part of the price of an aggressivly elegant design that makes the cabin look sleek and low, and cuts the back off fairly abruptly. Many will glady accept that tradeoff, and most of the other quirks, in order to enjoy one of the more refined sport sedans on the market. Just do your own dummy test before you buy.