Newport Beach is one of the most disarmingly picturesque — and frighteningly expensive — beach towns in Orange County, California. This part of the "O.C." — don't call it that — is the perfect environment for the 2006 Volvo C70 T5, now a convertible of the retractable hardtop variety. (The essentially unchanged 2007 Volvo C70 goes on sale in midsummer.) Be it a misty morning of "June Gloom" or an SPF-challenging sunny beach afternoon, the Volvo C70 compromises neither beauty nor functionality when rigged top-up as a steel-roof coupe or top down as a well-finished convertible.

Rolling up to the Crab Cooker for some tasty Dungeness, we spot the usual two dozen or so locals waiting outside for the chance to sup inside under the suspended bulk of a stuffed, jaws-agape great white shark. Carwise, these folks are difficult to impress, as all manner of exotica lurks in the full-featured garages nearby. Fate provides a curb spot right out front. It's time for a show.

Unlike ragtops, into which any tweeker with a box cutter can get, the C70 retractable hardtop convertible allows us to raise the top and seal the Volvo tight for security — or rain, or snow. All nearby conversation halts for the next 29 seconds as the C70's slow-dance, three-card-Monte shuffle lifts a neat three-panel IKEA-esque flat-pack out of the trunk, assembling itself into a handsome steel roof. What the staring crowd doesn't see is an intricate system of tiny cables that unfold the headliner a half-step behind, keeping the fabric clear of the works throughout. Cool.

T5 or…T5
All C70s sold in the U.S. are of the T5 persuasion. That's "T" as in turbocharged and "5" as in five-cylinder engine. A six-speed manual is standard, while our test car's five-speed Geartronic automatic tranny with sequential manual mode floats the price up $1,250. All C70s are front-wheel drive.

Volvo's T5 motor puts out 218 horsepower at 5,000 rpm, and 236 pound-feet of torque at 1,500 rpm. Those numbers seem a bit modest, especially considering our test car's as-measured 3,840-pound heft. That top is a mecha-marvel, but it doubtlessly ups the poundage.

Our test track figures more or less bear that out. Zero to 60 uses up 8.1 seconds, with the quarter-mile spread over 16.1 seconds at 88.7 mph. Adequate performance, to be sure, but if you want blistering and peeling, leave off the sunblock.

Observed fuel economy comes in at a disappointing 18.3 miles per premium gallon in combined driving, with track testing excluded from the calculation. That's significantly below the EPA city rating of 21 mpg. Highway mileage is rated at 29 mpg.

Control issues
Braking is similarly middle-of-the-road, which is surprising considering Volvo's tireless and eternal focus on safety. Stops from 60 mph use up an unremarkable 127 feet, with a pedal that grew longer as effectiveness declined over our modest series of stops. The aforementioned mass combined with the standard 17-inch all-season tires might be the culprits here.

We don't have a glowing report on the steering either. Oh sure, it turns rather smartly and stays on the preferred line, but Novocain "feel" and a large-pizza-sized steering wheel remind one of the electric party boats plying nearby Newport Bay.

Our well-mannered 63.6-mph slalom run and 0.80 lateral g skid-pad reading indicate that handling competency, at least, is present, but duff steering is sapping any fun. Here the 235/45R17 shoes work better than expected, but we wonder how much more the optional 18s would deliver.

Let the fun shine in
C70-style entertainment comes on strong when rolling along with the top down, taking in the sights and sounds of the scene around you. Wind buffeting is minimal, for front-seat passengers at least, right on up to 75-plus-mph freeway cruising speeds — sans wind blocker.

Rough roads don't unruffle the ride, as the structural rigidity of the C70 is decidedly better than the old C70. Very little shudder or shake infiltrates our T5 over a variety of surfaces, top up or top down, which doubtless allowed Volvo more leeway when tuning the suspension. Indeed the ride is well-damped, striking a good balance between control and compliance.

Room with a view
Front-row denizens will appreciate the seats, which can support a backside without being confining or hard. Our test car sports the optional power memory with leather examples, a $1,395 upgrade that coddles staffers of a variety of shapes, sizes and dispositions. Mix in legroom rated at 42.3 inches and a telescoping column with the range of the Hubble, and you get a recipe that puts the helm in the right spot for everybody. As a bonus, 38.2 inches of top-up headroom prevents tall-guy hair gel from tagging the headliner.

Rear seats in four-place convertibles are always a bit tight, owing to the space the folding mechanism consumes. Here the C70 does quite well, with 33.9 inches available. Other ragtops compare at 32 inches for a BMW 3 Series and 32.3 for a Saab 9-3. Back-row passengers can reach tilt-and-slide controls for the power front seats should the driver wander off.

Trunk space with the top up is fairly generous, at 12.8 cubic feet. Top-down volume shrinks to a diminutive, but still competitive, 6.0 cubic feet. To prevent overloading and top damage, a hinged frame within the trunk — not unlike an airline carry-on gauge — defines the edges of the allotted 6 cubic feet. If the gauge won't fit around the baggage and stay down without pressure, the roof can't retract.

Once everyone and their stuff is settled in, the view out is tremendous. Top-down sight lines to the rear benefit from a low-profile, form-fitting boot that makes it seem as if someone Monsterized the thing and torched the roof clean off — nothing resembling a bustle sticks up back there. Top-up visibility is similarly open, due in part to a slender pillar out back, but also due to the total lack of a B-pillar between doors.

Calming influence
Inside, the view isn't too shabby, either. Volvo designers deserve praise for this one, as the interior layout is fluid, graceful and lacking in pointless clutter. A ribbonlike center stack, handsomely finished in brushed aluminum, cascades from the dash to the shifter pod. It really works here, especially with the top lowered and the cabin flooded with natural light.

Basic audio and climate control functions are accessed via friendly, well-spaced *****. A row of buttons down the center can be off-putting at first. With use, however, we find that less often used secondary functions are here, along with global settings we've always wanted control of, such as the ability to turn auto door locking on or off. Anyone with basic TV remote skills will recognize the logic and master them in minutes.

Our 2006 C70 sports the $1,550 Dynaudio 910-watt stereo, with 14 speakers — two of which are 8-inch subwoofers. It sounds outstanding, and delivers quite a bass punch — even in open-air mode. Your neighbors will love it.

Surprisingly, no MP3/iPod input jack is present, and Sirius Satellite Radio preparation is only possible if you pop for the $2,120 navigation system. Volvo is rectifying these shortcomings for 2007, as the MP3 input jack will come standard on all stereo grades, and satellite radio prep becomes a $295 stand-alone option.

Within reach
For $39,405, you can plop yourself into a 2006 Volvo C70 T5 with a six-speed manual transmission. Our example, with the Geartronic automatic transmission, leather seats, Dynaudio stereo and metallic paint ($475) came out to $44,075. That's at or below similar offerings from Audi, BMW and Saab, even though all of those sport fabric convertible tops.

Even without the hardtop advantage, the Volvo C70 is arguably the more well-executed and elegant design. It may not be the sporty thriller an enthusiast driver wants, but the C70 excels as a top-down tourer. Add in the fact that you can have your convertible cake and eat it all winter, too, and you've really got something.