2005 Subaru Outback on 2040-cars

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Chile is beautiful, and we drove there in a Subaru

For me, the most beautiful part of our recent Patagonia road trip was the two days spent inside the Torres del Paine national park in Chile. In terms of breathtaking vistas, this place has a ton. Everywhere you look, there's something beautiful to behold. And our merry band of Subarus had no trouble traversing the gravel, mountain roads that wind endlessly through the park. Because our trip to Patagonia was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, we played hookey for a day and went finishing in one of Torres del Paine's many rivers. Sure, the Subarus got us there without issue, but the main focus of this day was trying to catch one of the huge salmon swimming upstream. We failed, but still, if you're into fishing, Torres del Paine offers bucket-list quality stuff. Above, you'll see more of our sights from Chile's most beautiful park. We'll have the rest of our Patagonia impressions coming in the not-too-distant future. Subaru Videos chile patagonia autoblog in patagonia

To the end of the world in a Subaru

On a quiet beach in southern Argentina, I stood in awe facing the Desdemona, a massive cargo ship that wrecked ashore in the mid-1980s and has remained untouched for the subsequent 30 years. In the intervening time, Desdemona was not vandalized, nobody broke her down and sold the parts for scrap, and unlike what you'd expect in the United States, no one set up shop to sell memorabilia in addition to a $5-beach entrance fee. This is only one of a thousand gorgeous vistas that make up Patagonia, the southernmost part of South America and, indeed, the end of the world. I was there to drive Subarus along dirt two-track roads and gravel highways on an epic journey from El Calafate to Ushuaia. Subaru would have you believe that this sort of rugged wilderness is the natural habitat for its cars. Whether or not that is a stretch, the Subies proved to be up to the task of trekking Patagonia. But I fully expected that from the get-go. What I didn't expect was how every part of this journey – the cars, the location, the people – would combine to form one of the greatest travel experiences of my life. View 85 Photos The end of the world. Patagonia is gorgeous, vast, brilliant. And those words don't even really do it justice. The plains, the lakes, the mountains, the forests all feel like every color is more vibrant, every detail is sharper. It's like looking at the world through an Instagram feed, and then realizing that every photo has the "no filter" hashtag. The journey started on Valentine's Day, with senior video producer Chris McGraw and I flying to Atlanta, followed by a 12-hour flight to Buenos Aires. That's where we met the rest of the group, and spent a day relaxing and exploring the Argentine streets and shops. "It's like looking at the world through an Instagram feed, and then realizing that every photo has the 'no filter' hashtag." But we still weren't at our start point. From Buenos Aires, we hopped a flight to El Calafate, about 1,500 miles southwest. It's a common entrance point to Patagonia for tourists and explorers because of its proximity to the Perito Moreno Glacier, a stunning site we visited the next day. Watch our earlier update video to see more about the glacier – an ice formation three times the size of Manhattan (and growing!). If Patagonia is on your bucket list of vacation destinations, this glacier is a mandatory stop. There's a boardwalk that runs along the lakes, leading right up to the face of the glacier.

The super-sized Atlas isn't the three-row VW should build

In the late '50s and early '60s the Volkswagen Beetle wasn't ubiquitous in my hometown of Lincoln, Nebraska, but it came pretty damn close. Fords and Chevys dominated, but beyond the occasional MG, Triumph, or Renault the import scene was essentially a VW scene. When my folks finally pulled the trigger on a second car they bought a Beetle, and that shopping process was my first exposure to a Volkswagen showroom. For our family VW love wasn't a cult, but our '66 model spoke – as did all Volkswagens and most imports at the time – of a return to common sense in your transportation choice. As VW's own marketing so wonderfully communicated, you didn't need big fins or annual model changes to go grab that carton of milk. Or, for that matter, to grab a week's worth of family holiday. In the wretched excess that was most of Motown at the time, the Beetle, Combi, Squareback, and even Karmann Ghia spoke to a minimal – but never plain – take on transportation as personal expression. Fifty years after that initial Beetle exposure, and as a fan of imports for what I believe to be all of the right reasons, the introduction of Volkswagen's Atlas to the world market is akin to a sociological gut punch. How is it that a brand whose modus operandi was to be the anti-Detroit could find itself warmly embracing Detroit and the excess it has historically embodied? Don't tell me it's because VW's Americanization of the Passat is going so well. To be fair, the domestic do-over of import brands didn't begin with the new Atlas crossover. Imports have been growing fat almost as long as Americans have, and it's a global trend. An early 911 is a veritable wisp when compared to its current counterpart, which constitutes – coincidentally – a 50-year gestation. In comparing today's BMW 3 Series to its' '77 predecessor, I see a 5 Series footprint. And how did four adults go to lunch in the early 3 Series? It is so much smaller than what we've become accustomed to today; the current 2 Series is more substantial. My empty-nester-view of three-row crossovers is true for most shoppers: If you need three rows of passenger capacity no more than two or three times a year – and most don't – rent it forgawdsake. If you do need the space more often, consider a minivan, which goes about its three-row mission with far more utility (and humility) than any SUV.