I’ve never really been hugely enthusiastic for the concept of peak x. Half of that’s because it’s been beaten beyond death by bearded men in front of podcast microphones, but part of it’s because there’s often something objectively better around the corner. The death of hair metal gave us grunge. The widespread demise of natural aspiration gave enthusiasts easily unlockable turbocharged grunt many had previously only dreamed of. The deflation of reality television just gave us even better, even more niche things to watch on YouTube. However, every so often, a genuine apex of achievement seems to be reached, a turning point where everything since seems to be less fit for purpose. The Lexus LC 500 is one of those rare peaks.
There’s little that hasn’t already been said about Lexus’ true flagship. It’s likely your favorite car journalist’s favorite new car, a machine seemingly brought to market half as a sheer flex of what a titan of the car industry can do and half as a reason to still dream. Over the past nine years, it’s captivated onlookers, exposed mediocrity, lost its available hybrid powertrain and its fixed roof, and only grown stronger from it. Even after nearly a decade on sale, living with one exposes just what the rest of the low-six-figure luxury car market is missing. When the last LC 500 sells, there will be no true replacement for it. Welcome to what feels like the end of the mainstream luxury car being built to an absolute standard.
[Full disclosure: Lexus Canada let me borrow this LC 500 Convertible Inspiration Series so long as I kept the shiny side up, returned it clean with a full tank of premium fuel, and reviewed it.]
To understand how we got to this point, we must roll back the clock 37 years to 1989, a year in which two momentous things happened in the luxury car space: Mercedes-Benz started up production of the R129 SL, and Lexus launched the LS 400. The former was perhaps the ultimate grand touring cabriolet of its day. A machine built to a standard then priced accordingly, with touches like preposterously heavy magnesium-framed seats and carpet so thick you could lose a small child in it, justifying the Robin Leach MSRP. However, Mercedes-Benz was about to have a Japanese thorn in its side. The Lexus LS 400 was priced like an E-Class, yet its sheer quality rivalled the S-Class. Bank-vault doors, supple leather, remarkably small panel gaps, and a quad-cam V8 so smooth that you really could balance a pyramid of wine glasses on the hood and then run it to redline without any of the crystal toppling. It was so monumental, not only was Lexus accused of dumping, the LS 400 allegedly cost the chief engineer of the Mercedes-Benz S-Class his job. The LS 400 changed the way the entire high-volume luxury car industry worked, forcing Mercedes-Benz to switch to a cost-managed approach that resulted in moderately disastrous models like the R230 SL of 2002.
See, 1989 was a time when a Swiss watch was still often bought not as an expensive fashion accessory, but because it might be the last watch you’d ever need, and because it wouldn’t simply run out of battery one day. Sure, pre-1990 luxury often came with glamor, but also an enormous tangible difference to less expensive items. Materials and craftsmanship mattered, and symbolism of material goods was often derived from the genuine item itself. The difference between a loaded Buick Roadmaster and a Mercedes-Benz 190E was immense, and you didn’t need to be an expert to feel it. Flash forward to the present, and the only low-six-figure car that still meets that standard is the Lexus LC 500.
Mesmerizer
It starts by being bite-the-back-of-your-hand gorgeous. A concept car come to life, it’s the production version of the LF-LC concept that nobody expected. Nearly a decade since entering production, this objet d’art still turns heads like a true exotic. A kid on a bike shouted “W Car” whilst I was shooting this Inspiration Series convertible. Camera phones waved in the air for it. Other drivers complimented it at red lights. I know some designers who don’t like the visual package, but many of them don’t know the rules well enough to know when to break them. The high cowl, aggressively contoured overhead silhouette, and difficult-to-anthropomorphize down-the-road graphic shouldn’t work, but yet, they do.
There’s a statement of cultural identity here. High-tech meets high-fashion, a diplomatic compromise of form and function where both somehow win in their own ways. This GT has immense presence, and the detailing’s positively tantalizing. The infinitely-mirrored taillights with their soft neon-esque glow, headlight garnishes like running eyeliner, the flared hips and the double-bubble tonneau on this cabriolet, it all comes together to be even greater than the sum of its parts. And that’s before we climb inside.
Sanctum of Solace
A six-figure luxury car should be redolent in leather like walking into a Bottega store, and the big Lexus doesn’t disappoint. Perfectly-stitched aromatic hides adorn almost every surface that isn’t metallic or glass or carpet, from the hard tonneau to the absolute bottom of the dashboard. Moreover, there’s a sculptural aspect to everything. Beads of cold satin trim run down the door card like liquid mercury, separating off-white from rich tan and framing the surround-free door handles to highlight the interplay of light and shadow. The heavily contoured seats are simply wonderful, the physical bezel moving with the animations of the digital cluster will never grow old, and even the upholstered lid for the top controls has an incredible air of quality. Hell, even the grips in the doors feel solid enough to hang an entire Smart Fortwo off of. You won’t find uncouth ambient lighting or a vulgar passenger screen here, but instead excellence in all the little details.
Take the clasps that keep the seat belts close to the seat so you don’t have to reach around the backrest to find them. Instead of a cheap-feeling snap like you get on a coat or a complex but error-prone robot butler that emerges from the side panel, Lexus has used magnets. Cold, heavy, tactile, physical yet effortless. They’ll never wear out, never jam, never rattle.
Despite such a focus on materials and tactility, the LC 500 still has technology. The ventilated seats are the most powerful I’ve experienced in any car, as if the brief was to be able to drive through Death Valley with the top down and emerge on the other side with the back of your shirt perfectly dry. The Mark Levinson audio system pairs illuminating clarity with serious power, the touchscreen infotainment system with wireless Apple CarPlay and Android Auto is wonderfully unobtrusive, the high-beams can practically X-Ray deer, and the physical bezel that moves with the animations on the digital instrument cluster will never stop eliciting wonder. Oh, and then there’s the powertrain, which blends the best of old and new.
The Air In Your Lungs
At the heart of this beast sits a five-liter naturally aspirated V8. A wagyu 471-horsepower steak in an era of muffled, laggy turbocharged torque. While the output isn’t a monumental figure by today’s standards, response is positively immediate, and the soundtrack will imprint itself on your soul. It starts with a baritone growl down low before building into a thunderous roar, then howling as the tachometer lunges to 7,300 RPM. Forget to pull the right paddle in manual mode, and the hard-cut rev limiter sounds like artillery fire. After all, what’s Tchaikovsky without cannons?
The ten-speed automatic in this really isn’t, though. It’s a deft thing, capable of double-cream smoothness around town and instantaneous downshifts when you want them. Put it all together, and it belies the LC 500’s mid-four-second zero-to-60 mph time due to this powertrain’s sheer urgency. Better yet, it’s not fragile. There’s at least one LC 500 out there about to roll over 300,000 miles that’s never needed mechanical repair.
Oh, and then there’s the ride and handling. It carries a taffy-like malleability over pockmarked roads, absorbing sunken manhole covers without a quiver through the structure or a drop spilled from the coffee in the cup holder. Flick the Shrek ear’d drive selector in the ambitiously named “Sport S+,” however, and everything comes alive. The power steering slackens off its assistance, the dampers firm up slightly, and this beautiful transparency emerges.
Despite all this excellence, the LC 500 still has its flaws. The steering is a tiny bit vague on-center, the damping isn’t quite taut enough in its sportiest setting to iron out successive undulations, the gearing’s on the long side, and the trunk is microscopic. It’s also down on might compared to the Mercedes-AMG SL 55, but you know what? The Benz is more than $40,000 more expensive than the $120,404 ($135,425 in Canada) Lexus and has a dashboard that looks like it came out of a C-Class, so it can shove it. Likewise, a Maserati GranCabrio doesn’t feel nearly as well-made, doesn’t sound as good, and costs even more than a base SL 55, let alone an LC 500.
A Funeral For A Friend
The LC 500 is not the most precise or the fastest GT car, but it’s stunning to look at, beautifully made, and tickles the part of your heart that finds joy in being a little bit naughty. It’s vocal, engrossing, endowed with a sense of humour that’s simply larger than life. Every gear is operatic, every tug of a paddle carries genuine quality, every blink of the traction control light reminds you that while it can command a boardroom, it’d rather be lighting up a Cuban on a coast somewhere as the ball of plasma in the sky bows beneath the horizon. For two tons of leather, metal, and glass, the LC 500 feels deeply human. But it’s not, because it will never truly bother you and likely never leave you on the side of the road of its own accord.
If you have a shade over $100,000 burning a hole in your pocket, already own a sports car, and there’s a Lexus dealer near you with an LC 500 in the showroom, buy it. Don’t even consider anything else. Then press the starter button, slide the gear selector into drive, and don’t stop until you run out of continent. It’s the last of the old-school luxury cars, inasmuch as it feels built to an absolute standard rather than a balance sheet. Drive one and you’ll feel something. Live with one, and you’ll wonder how you ever lived without. It’s simply bewitching, the rare case of a marketing tagline actually achieved by the product team. What happens to “The Relentless Pursuit of Perfection” when you finally catch it?
Top graphic image: Thomas Hundal
“Bank-vault doors, supple leather, remarkably small panel gaps, and a quad-cam V8 so smooth that you really could balance a pyramid of wine glasses on the hood and then run it to redline without any of the crystal toppling. It was so monumental, not only was Lexus accused of dumping, the LS 400 allegedly cost the chief engineer of the Mercedes-Benz S-Class his job.”
Okay, I worked for one of the first Lexus dealers on the East Coast, and I’d never heard about the S class chief engineer being fired over the LS. I’d say “typical Japanese understatement,” but the story about dumping was almost certainly true. It’s like they kept the US price based on the yen/USD ratio from 1985. Not for long though.
We actually got a 1990 LS on trade that was so early that it had a mechanical odometer and VELOUR interior. That was what it took to hit that $35k base price, and good goddamn was that that the finest velour in the universe.
OG LS are some of the best cars ever made full stop.
If I ever have to start commuting again, an LS400 or LS430 will be my daily.
UUNNNGGGGHHH if I had the money to buy one of these, I would. Every time I see one of these on the road, I’m still amazed at how beautiful it is. The only downside for me was the awkward old-school touchpad-and-knob control for the infotainment, and they came to their senses and changed that to a touchscreen a couple years ago. So now there are no downsides to it. You’re right, this is what the Mercedes SL used to be, and should still be today. It’s all about beauty and high quality of the craftsmanship, not raw power and technology (although it’s not slacking on those fronts either). It is the last of a dying breed. Good news is this means in 10 years, maybe I can afford one lol
Probably not – these things aren’t depreciating much further. I’d get an early one even if you need a loan to buy it (they’re running about 60k) because in ten years you won’t be able to touch any of them for less than $100k. It’s not really an INVESTMENT but you could consider it a hedge against inflation you can actually enjoy, like a Rolex.
I hopped over here from the unread article article, due to praise for the writing and, sure enough, great stuff. Made me wish I had that kind of extra money lying around.
I never had any Lexus, though I’ve driven several over the years. I really was amazed by the OG LS400, and I liked both of the first-gen SCs a lot (but not enough for me to buy one of them instead of the Mercedes CLK I wound up buying, which was the least reliable car I’ve ever owned).
The LC 500 is as desirable to me as it likely is to many Autopians, though I’d personally opt for a used hardtop version assuming I had the many tens of thousands of dollars to spend on such a car that I merely want instead of need.
Even used, a LFA will always be out of my price range, and sadly, the LC 500s probably will be too. 🙁
Not sure about your budget, but they’re as cheap now as they’re ever going to be. I can’t justify $120k for a new one, but early models go for half that. If you could afford a CLK back in the day, you can buy a used LC for basically half price now, and that’s in post-COVID Benjamins.
Well, to be accurate, it IS probably possible for me to buy a new LC 500 if there was some reason that I absolutely had to, but it would mean taking money out of an IRA which would be foolish. Plus, where TF am I going to drive it? To Trader Joe’s once a week? 😀 Better to spend a few hundred fixing the latest things to wear out on my old Volvo, and leave the IRA$ in the bank.
Fair enough. It’s why I still own a 16 year old Challenger; since COVID mostly I only drive on trips. My wife doesn’t let me grocery shop because I come home with a bunch of crap. LOL
Well, you’ve got a Challenger and a wife, so things don’t seem that bad, post-Covid dystopia or no. 😉
To be fair the Challenger predates the wife. But she really does love it. This is a woman who has only ever owned one car – a 1999 Durango she bought new when she got her first nursing job. It has 265k miles, and being in California, rust issues no issue. Original engine and transmission- she has followed the maintenance schedule to a T. My mechanics are amazed every time she brings it in. She wants a new Durango 392 but I know she will be in tears when she replaces her old one – for her it’ll be like putting a dog down.
Love the LC500 as a car. Great read Thomas. I will disagree with a very early assessment though. No turn of the 90’s through the 90’s grunge is better than any 80’s metal.
I lived through both and submit that this take is dumb as Gen Zers take that 9/11 was no big deal. They at least have the excuse that fish don’t know they’re wet.
A lovely homage to the one true successor to MB’s R107.
Lexus’ press department loves to have you review a car after it isn’t made anymore.
Believe it or not, there are only 2 left unsold in the entire nation. One in NC and one in Maryland…And they’re still on the boat. That’s your only shot.
Not accurate, search again on another platform like cars.com
Also note that pricing on some used convertibles exceeds new msrp.
What if I told you I was looking in THE system? Which, I was.
The beauty of a Lexus is that a used one is arguably better than a new one, even with the BaT tax.
I think I did like my LX 470 more than my GX 550. 25 years of technology did get me from 12 mpg to 13.5, though!
Yeah my wife really liked the GX but getting one in Nori Green is basically impossible. I’d be sad going from an LX470 to the GX too!
I love these cars. Really, it’s the only other new (for now) car than the one I have that interests me to own or even drive. I don’t see these as sports cars, though, more like smaller personal luxury coupe/convertible built to a higher standard than most of those ever were. The R129 SL comparison is spot on. There wasn’t anything else really like that then and nothing else like this now (including, unfortunately, the SL). I don’t even care that there’s no manual (especially where the auto actually shifts when you tell it to).
wonderful wonderful motorcar. whoa.
Gotta say, I don’t love the styling. The rear 3/4 in particular has too many edges to it. The front 3/4 is a little better but still doesn’t look great. Side view is reasonably nice, though. But I’ll reserve judgment until I see one in the wild.
I’d like it a lot more if it didn’t have that awful grille.
See, I think the spindle grill works very well on this car. As if it were designed specifically for the LC and then applied inappropriately across a bunch of taller fascias that couldn’t wear it, all the way up to that joke of an LX570.
I’m with you. This is the girl who CAN wear that dress.
I wish I’d come up with this. It’s so spot on.
I think the LC 500 and the GX are the only two cars where the Lexus grille works with the overall form. The thing that bugs me, amongst all the creaminess and sumptuousness and gorgeousness and craftsmanship, is the shiny chrome top surfaces of “the infinitely-mirrored taillights with their soft neon-esque glow”, which look like they’ve been cut out of the vacuum-plated plastic liner of a box of chocolates.
I hope I can keep my ’18 LC forever, just a perfect all-around (only) car for me
I kind of lost confidence in mine. It had only 5000 miles and threw a CEL, reduced power to only going below 20mph. Dealer took 3 days to trace it to a bad spark plug. I don’t know if all Toyotas do that but I don’t want one bad spark plug to get the car to go into limp mode and essentially strand me. I just drove across hundreds of miles of Nevada desert and I felt more confident taking my 22 year old Subaru than my 6 year old LC500 on that trip.
You wouldn’t like what this engine would do to itself down a spark plug. At best, your catalytic converter would reduce itself to melted rare earth metal slag.
Fine writing for a fine automobile, Thomas. Nicely done.
It’s nice that the buttoned-down company which buttered its bread with a million forgettable RXs and ESs greenilighted this passion project. It’s an interesting and striking car with character. Doubtful they made any money off of it.
Yeah I think this is the first Lexus that Toyota made since the first few years of the LS where they clearly lost money on every one.
I love how low to the ground it is.
I love that I would not bang my head on the door sill, as I do on nearly every car made in the last 10 years or so.
But, no manny option?
And the tachometer exists simply to mock the driver?
Does it come with the Toyota odometer that stops at 300,000 miles? Asking for a friend.
Nah they pretty quickly realized that 300k+ miles on an old Toyota provides added resale value to a new Toyota. I hope someone got fired for that blunder!
Crazy part about this is that there was no easy fix. It is not a physical issue with the odometer. It is the software programming and a memory chip. Why not simply replace the memory chip to one that recognizes mileage over 300K?
Zeroing it out, and adding a sticker noting the mileage before zeroing out, costs $165, via Atlanta Speedometer. Plus paying someone to take it out and put it back in. There is probably a local place that could turn it around in a day.
And, I wouldn’t say “quickly.” There are ten years of models affected by this, including some Vibe’s. Might have taken someone five years to reach 300K and notice it, though. (First noticed apparently in 2011, I think by someone driving in km’s, and by then Toyota stopped using those set-ups.)
My son’s very old Prius (2004) might hit this soon.
Yeah, I knew about it being a software issue, but I did NOT know they kept making them that way for a decade. That’s truly insane.
I’m not sure who in the company would have known about this except for the programmer or the guy who provided the specifications for the memory chips. So it was up to the owners to discover this after owning the car for several years. And it was discovered after they stopped using those pieces/software.
Apparently that engineer was from somewhere cars rust!
So why not just compare it to a SL43, which is more inline power and price wise? Yeah, the engine will be a big hit, but it’s still an option.
Also, as much as Porsche says the 911 is a sports car and not a GT, they are much more GT like in size, weight, and performance (even more so when you get the cabriolet) so long as you don’t confusingly get the GT trims. Porsche just needs to knock it off with their crazy price hikes over the past 10 years.
And lastly, I’d probably throw a Corvette, nee Grand Sport X, in here for consideration too. Yeah, probably not near as comfortable or luxurious, but dang is it an easy daily with lots of storage space that it would easily make it GT-able. Plus, tons of configurations means it has a huge depth of price offerings.
I’m usually a C8 apologist, but the fit, finish, and materials put it in another league. As the saying goes, if you have the means, the LC500 is so choice.
Lottery win: a coupe and a convertible. Coupe in Nori Green, convertible in Copper.
Perfect combo. No notes.
Nori Green coupe with a tan interior *drool*
Perfection
And this is the only Toyota they let you actually order to spec. Though they charge about $10k for that.
Toyota cost themselves over $100k they otherwise have gotten from my wife and I because of that shitty distribution system. She ended up not buying a GX550 and me not buying a Corolla GR because they simply would not get them in our preferred color/options that we spec’d online. We were on the GX waiting list for TWO years, no dice on the Nori Green Overtrail+. In fucking SoCal, I’ve never even seen one in that combo.