Yesterday marked the official end of our long-term test of the Pontiac Solstice. With 17,530 miles on the odometer, we're preparing the final wrap-up story, and the Solstice is at the test track today for its last round of instrumented performance testing. It'll likely be a few weeks before the wrap-up goes live.

Also ending in October, the Hyundai Sonata.

Kelly Toepke, Manager of Vehicle Testing

Solstice assumed the role of redheaded stepchild in our long-term car family long ago, but whether it deserves that title or not is still up for some debate. What can't be argued is that it received enough attention to reach its 15,000-mile scheduled service.

We chose Boulevard Buick/Pontiac/GMC in Long Beach for its location. We pulled into the service drive on time for our scheduled 7am appointment and were pleased to see we were the only car in line. The optimist in us saw this as the line half-empty and was looking forward to the service finishing quickly and being on our way. It turns out that the line was really half-full because it wasn't until 9:30 that the keys were back in our hand and we were paying the bill.

Service items performed: change oil and filter, service emission system, rotate tires and a "Goodwrench" visual inspection of tires, belts, fluid levels, etc. Total bill for parts and labor, $225.96

Mike Schmidt, Vehicle Testing Assistant

Roommate: Hey, you've got that little blue sports car again.

Me: Yeah.

Roommate: Bet that thing turns a lotta heads.

Me: Huh?

My dazed "huh?" wasn't due to hearing impairment or some kind of learning disability; I'm aware that the Solstice is a sexy beast that may as well come with its own spotlight. It gets people hot and bothered even here in Hollywood, a town in which most have seen it all.

It's just that when you actually have to drive the Solstice, it's easy to forget what a drool magnet it is. Your senses are bum-rushed by the cabin's cramped dimensions, by the noisy coarseness of the engine, by the clunky gear shifts, by the interior's poor ergonomics, by the...

But it sure is pretty.

Warren Clarke
Content Editor, Edmunds.com @ 17,366 miles

I've spent the last couple days in the Solstice and a couple more annoyances have cropped up. For one thing, I dislike the seatbelts. Now, I've driven many convertibles (and even owned one) so I know you can't expect the seatbelt fit to be perfect in a car where they're not height-adjustable. But for some reason, the Solstice's shoulder belt fits me worse than any drop top I've ever driven. It's constantly cutting me across the neck (even though I'm 5'-10") and nearly every time I pull into a parking garage, it activates the locking mechanism, making it impossible to retrieve the access ticket without unbuckling. I think maybe the belt is mounted too far inboard of the seat.

Also, and this has been bugging me for some time, why does the leather upholstery in this car have to wrinkle? It doesn't just happen when I sit in the seat, either -- it's always like that. Evidently, whoever cut the leather for the seat wasn't given very exact dimensions. I'd rather have the standard cloth upholstery.

Erin Riches, Senior Content Editor, 17,269 miles

I hadn’t spoken to my dad in three weeks. He’d normally phone me up every couple days for an update, to rouse me, or to talk about the upcoming ski season. He lives in Woodland, I live in Santa Monica, and every year I fly up to Sacramento several times, he picks me up, and we ski at Squaw Valley. I wondered if those days had come to an end. He was in the hospital, ICU, not doing well. Then my mom called.

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7 a.m. and a foggy coastal Saturday morning.  With the Solstice top down, sunblock applied, ear plugs in, and the radio blasting, I tore off down the highway with wind in my hair. 

The car was loud, there was no place to put my phone or iPod other than the passenger seat, and it was nearly impossible to reach my arm back to hit the window down switch, but I was having fun.

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In the Golden Gate lot, I took this shot, but it wouldn’t do.

 

So I headed up into the headlands, toward the old coastal gun batteries, and got an amazing view of the bridge, the bay, the city. I set up my tripod for the shot, but it was in the road. Not going to work. Then a girl in biking gear got out of her black VW Jetta and snapped this pic for me.

Kelly, it’s for you. It was time to head to Santa Rosa, to the birthday event, but I decided to take in this dramatic view a few minutes longer…and called my mom for an update on my dad. It was not a good day for him.

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The Santa Rosa morning was chilly, and after eating some leftover cake for breakfast, I shot down the 101 to the 37 to the 80 to the 113 and into Woodland where the air was warm and thick like the cake frosting from the night before. I pulled up in front of my house; a 19th century haunted Victorian, took a deep breath and wondered…how would my dad be?

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The Solstice gets a raw deal from most reviewers for many reasons...the most common complaint being a lack of usable storage space. But GM has a few tricks up its sleeve in this car and included a few spots most reviewers, including this one, didn't count.

It hit me after I started losing things in it over the weekend. And whenever I thought, "Where is my..." the answer was always "in the cracks between the seats of the Solstice."

Watch. Keys. Wallet (3 times). 63 cents. Pencil with long-term logbook (still missing). Gas credit card. Receipt for gas. Receipt for ice cream. Dog treats. Blackberry. Fairy dust, moonbeams and a dream for a better tomorrow might be down there, too, for all I know.

All this and more can fit between those seats, but the Solstice doesn't get credit. Well now it does in my book. This is usable storage space...well, no less usable than the weird cubby between seats near your shoulders.

Mike Hudson, News Editor -- 16,272 miles

I don't understand how people can cop an attitude toward the Solstice. I'll be sitting at the stoplight in the Pontiac minding my own business when a bully of an F-150 driver in the next lane guns his engine, powers ahead and jumps right in front of me. "I think you think I'm faster than I am," I want to laugh at the truck driver. But where I couldn't catch up to the truck with the roadster's four-cylinder power (obviously), I easily danced around the monster in the curves, ha.

But it is funny how passers-by at the curb and those sitting next to me at a stoplight when I'm in the Solstice often mistake the roadster's dangerous curves for a sign of quickness.

Caroline Pardilla, Production Editor