If we were to describe the 19 months and 40,000 miles we spent with Volkswagen's seventh-generation Golf hatchback as a romantic story arc, it would be a crushingly normal courtship. As in, Ward-and-June-Cleaver normal-neither a hot 'n' heavy tryst nor a glum arranged marriage. Our entanglement with the Golf instead felt like a relationship built on bedrock, a long-term commitment to rival Archie and Edith Bunker's. READ MORE ››
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