DRIVEN: 2005 Hyundai Tiburon

By Michael Banovsky
Photos by Michael Banovsky

I’m breaking the rules here.

It’s actually the little matter of journalistic integrity – a matter not very little at all. Unlike the politicians, I haven’t taken bribes, jumped parties, misspent public money or fast-tracked strippers into the country.

I’m using quotes without a source. Which, as my teachers told me, is a big no-no. Whoops.

Well try telling that to a hoard of race fans at the Montreal Grand Prix (the only F1 race in North America). With temperatures hovering north of 40 degrees Celsius, everyone was running for the comfort of their air-conditioned cars. None of which, of course, were as bright red as the Hyundai Tiburon Tuscani I was driving.



Back to the un-authourized sources. I didn’t get their names, because it really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

The important thing – at least to Hyundai – is the following. During the GP weekend, seven (!) people walked up to me and asked what exactly the blushing Korean was. These were not the uneducated, beer-slinging, Montel-appearing masses. These were race fans.

The Tiburon has been on the market in a couple of forms over the last few years, starting out as a pretty little prince of a car (that only women seemed attracted to), which then was turned into some sort of bug-eyed frog. For this latest generation; however, the looks have been subtly pieced together from a wide variety of other cars.

The details are all Audi TT – even the climate control seems shamelessly reverse-engineered – and the profile is a cross between a Nissan (Datsun) 240Z and a Ferrari 550 Maranello.



It all works rather well, and to Hyundai’s credit, they take no kudos for the design. Except, of course, the modest chrome “Hyundai” on the Tiburon’s behind. All major exterior badges are a big “T” – for Tuscani, the name of my tester’s trim level.

It worked flawlessly. Without the melted capital-H logo and a huge (optional) rear wing, my people (the race fans) thought that the car was far more upscale than its $28,000 price tag suggested.

At that price, it is the cheapest GT car on the market.

Yes, I said Grand Touring. Just like an Aston Martin or something equally as expensive. It’s not cheap – the interior trim and surface finishing is aimed at Mercedes-Benz – if not Japanese – levels. No, I mean it is capable of soaking up kilometers faster than a downpour.

Consider this: I drove six hours to Toronto directly after sitting in the Montreal sun for seven hours on Sunday. We didn’t stop for gas. My ever home-improving father had no complaints of back pain (and even slept a few winks.) In fact, his first impressions of the car confirmed that it was far better suited to long-legged cruising than his luggage-limited Audi TT coupe.

There are some bad bits, though – namely the engine. Kudos to Hyundai for making the equivalent of a Fisherman’s Friend wrapped in a Ferrero Rocher wrapper. The engine is not particularly powerful at 170 horsepower, and is even more anemic when you consider that all the empty space in the engine block adds up to 2.7L.

The other sour note was the notchy gearbox. I am not one to speculate the benefit of fitting a short-shifter, but I was tempted to fork over my own money for something – anything – to improve shift feel.



Other than those minor problems, the Tiburon was excellent fun to drive. Without gobs of tire-shredding power, the handling was all about balance and finesse. It had no more power than is necessary. There was no torque steer all weekend – thankfully.

At any rate, the combination of stellar looks and a first-class cabin makes the Tiburon the king of the compact GT class. What is the compact GT class, you ask?

Well, it was summed up by one Montreal parking attendant.

“I know, I know…you’ve got an expensive car,” he said. “And you don’t want anybody parked beside you. Here, park next to the shack and I’ll watch it for you.”

Finally, Hyundai’s shark is worthy of the name Tiburon.