Deep in the warped form of the false self, a fragment of the true soul remains.

Here, as now I find myself in a most strange environment. I am sitting in the Subaru Forester. I drive a Subaru Forester, and the OEM plasti-dipped black badges mark this as one. And yet, this machine surrounding me lacks all the obvious features outlined by my definition of one. Strange, though clearly synthesized and formulated from something familiar to me.

And yet still it feels…false.

Renewed Youth Does Not Preserve The Soul

The 2023 Subaru Forester Wilderness is the fastest car in the world.

Well, this one is. Because it’s a rental.

My aged and ailing SG6 has been admitted to the automotive ICU for the moment, and as a proud 100k mile club member, I was offered this coffin of performative apathy for the past 48 hours. (Many thanks to the genuinely kind and helpful staff at anonymous upstate Subaru dealer that shall not be named.)

Attending my daily activities in this car has been a genuinely new experience for me, despite this being the fifth Forester I have ever driven. The difference being that this is by far the newest and most advanced. That last point notwithstanding, as it is certainly not the best.

Second gen best gen.

Step Into My Office

For ten minutes or so I was enamored with the clean surfaces, the fit, finish, insulation, and a mere 3,300 miles displayed on the dashboard. This is the newest car I have ever set foot into. The FB25 boxer idles smooth and silent, an alarming departure from my typical soundtrack of straight-through Flowmaster and power steering pump noise . It feels genuinely slower than its 20 year old point of comparison, despite making 20 or so more horsepower, but that exhaust note could be an explanation. I have no qualms with this engine overall, and frankly it deserves to power something better.

The interior, I must say, is at least as well put together as I would expect from a Subaru geared towards the outdoorsy type. The seats are especially pleasant, power operated with far more bolstering than the near-benches I am used to. And need I mention the heaters aren’t even broken? Oh the rich and their toys.

There is a sufficient amount of buttons to accompany the unobtrusive touch screen, and you get a secondary display between your analog gauges. A gauge pod that, might I mention, does NOT include a coolant temperature reading. I am baffled that this lack of basic data is a recurring theme for Subaru. Instead? You get a light that tells you “yeah, it’s some kind of cold”, and is bound to be most often ignored. Despite the distain I will always hold for a fake-ratio CVT, the shifter moves with a solid clunk into each position. As much as I feel the bones of this machine do not justify its aesthetic qualities, the components are connected in a competent and solid manner. The status of the Forester as “an car” for normal people who don’t like driving was not wholly sacrificed for whatever façade this version is attempting to curate.

Speaking of façades, faces, masks, etc. I would describe the Wilderness trim as a “gilded” option. From this being my first encounter with this model, I could not determine many changes over the standard Fozzy aside from A/T tires, a slight lift, and enough plastic cladding to classify it as a recyclable bottle. Central to the dashboard, there is also a new X-Mode control dial with indistinct “mud” and “snow” modes. The function of each seems dubious at best with an indecisive CVT running the show below deck. Though on all this I may be wrong, and did not put forth much research in my short time with this car.

This is SUBARU bitch we clown in this mf, better take take yo sensitive ass back to MITSUBISHI.

And from $33,945?

I could make far better (objectively worse, subjectively cooler) and more entertaining decisions for that kind of money.

There are no less than thirteen “Subaru Wilderness” badges throughout this car (that I could find). The logo gets quality design points from me, in a sea of forgettable greyscale minimalism, but the quantity pushes its presence into redundancy. You will find a gloss badge one each quarter panel, one on the rear, an embossing on each headrest, both front floor mats, and a yellow nylon text tag on each door to remind you exactly what vehicle you are exiting.

A breeze cooled my face from where the window used to be, having fallen off its track somewhere inside the door. Despite this, and a complete lack of functioning brake lights, I smiled with renewed appreciation for the simple charm for my machine, and headed home anyway.