Summer’s over, school’s back in session, and it’s time for life to cool down as we coast back toward winter. Literally, the solstice has past, but the time for this Solstice is just beginning.

Because we still have a colorful fall to look forward to. While the searing-red Pontiac Solstice GXP I drove recently looks like it’s made for the hot, top-down days of a raging summer, there really is no better time to be behind the wheel of a convertible in Santa Fe than when the trees start to change.

You get the wide-open views when the top is stowed, and you get to more fully enjoy the days as they grow a bit cooler and the sun less intense. But the Solstice is intense enough, when driven on an empty weekend road, to make up the difference, especially in red-hot turbocharged GXP mode.

Seasonally disordered

Seasons are important when you consider a roadster. I drove the Solstice’s brother, the Saturn Sky, last winter, and the snow still on the ground left something of a sour taste; this is not a car meant for inclement weather. Heated seats aren’t offered, even as an option; the cupholders, which pop out of the center bulkhead where your elbow should go, don’t actually hold drinks; and the folding top is no one-motion, fling-it-back affair. Driving the Solstice in the middle of summer, however, these silly little usability issues floated away on a wave of tail-wagging power.

The regular Solstice is a boulevard cruiser, its 173-horsepower 2.4-liter four-cylinder whipping up enough enthusiasm to get you to the next cool hangout. It stacks up well against the one engine offered in the hallmark Mazda Miata — a 166-horsepower 2.0-liter four — but the Solstice weighs nearly 400 pounds more than the Miata.

But when you opt up for the GXP, a turbocharged 2.0-liter four pounds out 260 hp and 260 pound-feet of torque every time you put your foot down, and so erases any concerns with intoxicating ease. Turn off the traction control and every corner, every stop-on-red chance, gives you another opportunity to hold on for dear life. Hit the gas, and the rear end will slide luridly out, providing the kind of thrill no commuting-appliance vehicle could dream of.

The rear end then is in control, and it’s your job to keep the Solstice in check and headed in the intended direction. And that’s when the perfectly sorted chassis shines: Flat and neutral, perfectly flickable — this chassis is a winner. The wide tires on chrome rims (a $545 option) hold the Solstice to the ground in corners but know when to give up if that’s what you’re into.

And, something you wouldn’t expect in a small car with sporting suspension and a short wheelbase: The Solstice loves to tackle a set of those silly speed humps that people here seem to think in any way calm traffic (I’ve only ever seen them make drivers hit the gas, hit the brakes, hit the gas, etc., an approach that’s not good for cars, traffic flow or the environment).

Hit a good line of these (in my humble opinion) blights, say the first stretch of Agua Fría or along Garcia Street, and the Solstice becomes your own personal roller coaster. Just don’t take your hands off the wheel: It’s not on tracks, even if it feels like it corners on rails.

Love over like

This is the kind of car I can instantly love, even if I didn’t exactly fit — I’m unfortunately nearly 6-foot-4. It was worth squeezing into the seat that doesn’t move back nearly far enough and rubbing my head against the softtop just to feel the unbridled joy that the engine provides.

But headroom means little in a convertible, right? Well, the top on the Solstice, as on the Sky, is an anachronism that really should no longer exist in the modern world. Instead of the instant gratification of a Miata — or the genius of that roadster’s no-compromises power hardtop — the Solstice requires multiple steps to lower the top. It can still be done at a long stoplight, but you have to be prepared:

Undo the lever on the windshield header, pop the entire rear deck with the key fob, get out of the car to open the deck, shove the top back, slam down the deck and jump back into your seat. It’s a quite show for others stuck in traffic and not too big of a deal, but don’t try to put the top back up in a similar situation, as you have to snap down the top’s stylish buttresses one at a time, first on the driver’s side, and then walk around the car to secure the one on the passenger side.

Then again, what am I complaining about? With the top down, this is one of the most stylish little rockets you can find. I’m torn between the assured slickness of the Sky and the wide-eyed mischievousness of the Solstice. Choice is a wonderful thing; take your pick.

Pray for empty roads

Anyway, if the top is a throwback, the driving experience is thoroughly modern.

That power is intoxicating. The last time I saw every corner as an amusement-park ride was when I was blessed with the similarly turbocharged Subaru Forester during our record snows this last winter — but only until the roads cleared and other people started cluttering them again. The Solstice comes from another world: There is nowhere else you can buy this much low-speed fun for so few dollars, starting at $27,115. The Miata can’t say that.

When you aren’t up to the full tail-out tango and just want to get to the store, the standard Stabilitrak traction-control system keeps everything under control. If you feel the need to goose the Solstice GXP at every turn, you’ll give the system a mighty workout, as I did. If you are just tooling along, it’s invisible. Then again, you’d have to be pretty desperate to take the Solstice to pick up groceries. There is absolutely no cargo space, so everything will have to fit in the passenger seat.

More than just a car

So I’m torn in a way I’m just not used to. The Solstice is silly as a car. Its five-speed manual transmission doesn’t have the refinement you’d expect in a modern sports car — the shifter feels like it’s rowing through a gravel meditation garden with each shift — but when you use a firm hand, it’s nearly impossible to miss a shift.

The throws are short and direct, especially since there is no pattern-ruining sixth gear, and the ratios are so well-spaced that the Solstice can be a mellow highway cruiser.

The engine is a delight, always ready to fling the tach toward the heavens, but it also reports better fuel economy than the bigger but less powerful base engine (22/31 versus 20/28, though the EPA has reworked those numbers for 2008, as on all new cars; they are now 19/28 and 19/25, respectively).

Your mileage will, as always, depend on how you drive, of course, but what a ringing endorsement of more power. Both engines are listed as recommending premium fuel but not requiring it, a phrase you have to thank Pontiac for.

No, there’s no way to evaluate the Solstice as a normal car. The tight interior is not necessarily a strike against it because that shrink-wrapped cockpit makes the driving experience feel more immediate; the recalcitrant top mechanism is an idiosyncrasy, not a liability, since it still opens up the skies above; that there is zero cargo space is fully in keeping with its throwback ethos as a roadster that runs on passion, all domestic considerations be damned.

But no throwback would have XM satellite radio or a six-CD in-dash changer, both of which are factory options on the Solstice. Sadly, heated seats still aren’t offered. That air conditioning is a $960 option, well, that is a blast from the past.

Joy in the anachronism

There is no other car like the Solstice (and Sky). It is the fulfillment of the roadster dream of so many years ago, the 1950s and ’60s, when just being able to drive a car that ate up the corners was a gift — it meant that federal regulations hadn’t won. We could all drive hybrids and wagons and other reasonable cars, but the Solstice proudly proclaims that passion has not gone out of driving, that driving enthusiasm will not buckle under in the face of politically correct demands.

Here is a car that lives for the best half of the year — all summer, plus the latter half of spring and the first half of fall, when the roads are clear and beg to be driven — and there is nothing rational to be found in the love of it.

A roadster doesn’t need cargo space, it doesn’t need functioning cupholders or heated seats, it doesn’t need to afford stretch-out space for driver and passenger. A roadster is about compromise — it’s meant to be enjoyed to the fullest when the driver has the chance. It’s meant to create memories, for better or worse. It must demand some measure of discomfort from its humans in order to feel fully alive.

Without compromise, a car is just an appliance, something you lease without noticing, without ever having felt a real emotion over. It’s by no means perfect, but the Pontiac Solstice never met a compromise it didn’t trip over entirely, and there is something to love in that, as often as you can.

Jay Binneweg is automotive editor at The New Mexican. E-mail him at drive@sfnewmexican.com.

2007 Pontiac Solstice GXP

• Base price: $27,115
• As tested: $30,509
• Type: Front-engine, rear-wheel-drive, two-passenger roadster
• Drivetrain: Turbocharged DOHC 16-valve 2.0-liter inline-four producing 260 horsepower at 5,300 rpm and 260 pound-feet of torque at 2,500 rpm; five-speed manual
• EPA mileage: 22 mpg city/31 highway, premium recommended
• Length: 157.2 inches
• Wheelbase: 95.1 inches
• Weight: 2,990 pounds
• Built in: Wilmington, Del. (really!)