2017 Ford Focus RS

Second place.

There can be no draw in a Car and Driver comparison test. To the editors who weighed in on this particular face-off, this unwritten rule now seems as arbitrary and unjust as the one that says we can’t bring pet parakeets into the office. Because after we crunched the test numbers, cast our ballots, and topped the fuel tanks for the final time, the scorecard showed a dead heat, a conclusion that fittingly captured our affinity for both cars.

Ford’s Focus RS rides to near victory on the strength of its 350-hp inline-four. The 2.3-liter is equal parts raucousness and polish, a four-pot Ric Flair. Even though torque peaks at a relatively high 3200 rpm, the Focus lands at its 350-lb-ft plateau on a steady swell rather than the laggy bog-and-surge that’s common with high-output boosted four-cylinders. This steroidal Focus launches from its 6700-rpm fuel cutoff with graceful clutch engagement and a light chirp of the front tires, resulting in a 4.5-second zero-to-60 slingshot. On overrun, the engine sounds like Satan’s own popcorn maker. And as proof that Honda’s resurgence is not yet complete, the Ford has the more satisfying shifter with fluid movements. The heftier clutch gives better feel through the friction point, too.

You don’t buy an all-wheel-drive car for its ability to drift, and the Focus RS is no exception. Drift mode only makes momentary overtures at sustained tire-decimating slides. The RS’s torque-vectoring rear differential does help the 3465-pound Ford dive into corners with a playful eagerness. The Focus’s 0.99 g of lateral stick and 160-foot stopping distance can’t match the Civic’s performance, but the precision in the Ford’s controls and the reckless abandon the car invites make every squiggle of pavement just as remarkable.

You pilot the Focus from a tall and upright seating position similar to a crossover’s, and from this perch, you’re well aware that both the Focus’s roof and its center of gravity sit substantially higher than the Type R’s. The snug Recaro buckets—too snug for some—are endlessly supportive with enough adjustability for all-day comfort. Deep cutouts on the back side of those front seats make for decent rear legroom in a car with a two-inch-shorter wheelbase than the Civic’s, and the Focus delivers more rear headroom than the Honda. We’ve complained about the busyness of the audio and climate controls in prior Focus RS tests, but that’s a bluff. We’d happily spin plywood knobs if it meant fewer controls migrated to touchscreens. Compared with the Honda, the Focus offers more tactile controls for the crucial functions.

The Focus RS only met its defeat on the five-hour drive from Pennsylvania to our Michigan home office. Forced to choose a winner, we docked the RS another point for its spirit-sapping ride. Stiffly sprung, the car pogos over expansion joints, making pecs jiggle like B-cups and heads bob like cheap baseball-game giveaways. Tapping the end of the turn-signal stalk activates a stiffer damper setting that only harshens the already rough ride. Driving a Focus RS is a never-ending party. Maybe we’re getting old, but we’re not sure we could do it every day.