Chevy jumps into the trendy forefront with huge 2002 Avalanche
[[[[cutlines:
1/ The Chevrolet Avalanche is a large and opulent combination vehicle that can be converted from SUV to pickup truck.
2/ A lot of molded plastic cladding accents the long Chevy Avalanche, protecting against rock chips and encasing the pickup box.
3/ A rear window behind the 5-passenger interior can be removed to allow open air all the way to the tailgate.
4/ A mammoth and stylish display of high-tech headlights and grillework set off the unique look of the Avalanche. ]]]]]
We’ve seen it coming, from a long way off, and it’s not just because it’s so big.
General Motors, accused of falling behind in the technology race as well as in the progressive styling competition, is making 2002 the year it takes giant steps to catch up. And the Chevrolet Avalanche is the Bigfoot of giant steps.
GM in general, and Chevy in particular, have certainly not lagged behind in the truck end of the current SUV/pickup craze. With the Silverado, Chevy has the second-most-sold vehicle on the planet, second only to Ford’s F150. And with the large Tahoe and the very large Suburban, Chevy has set standards for the trend toward huge SUVs.
But the competiton is pecking away from all sides, and the most recent trend in the truck business is crossover vehicles, those machines that can convert to fit an assortment of lifestyles and trends. The trendiest vehicle of the future might be the one that can best meet the most current trends.
With Ford coming out with various versions of its pickups, and the Lincoln Blackwood, which is like a giant Navigator SUV with the rear third cut off and replaced with a pickup box, Chevrolet has responded with the Avalanche, and it is, in a word, formidible.
From the outside, the clear-lens headlights and driving lights are both above and below the signature Chevy horizontal grille bar, and they are angled off in all directions, almost as if Chevy is trying to come up with a massive front end that can take on the Blackwood, the Navigator, the Dodge Ram and possibly any Kenworth you might spot.
The lower bumper area is covered with thick plastic stuff that looks and feels pretty bulletproof to the touch, and probably is to any stray boulders as well. The plastic stuff continues around on the lower sides, and has stylish little notches in it here and there, heading toward the pickup box rear, where it visually meets the sloping shaft coming off the roof of the crew cab.
On top of the box is more heavy-duty plastic, a secure cover over the box itself, with side troughs for storage of smaller items that can be locked away for privacy.
Inside, the test vehicle was a five-seater, with two bucket seats in the front, and three rear seats, inside those full-size back doors, and they are arranged in a 60/40 split to fold down. A normal customer might wonder why the rear seat in a two-row interior would be designed to fold down, but that’s where the biggest difference — beyond style — comes in.
The Avalanche pickup box is 5-foot-3 in length, which is pretty good, but it’s short by large pickup standards. But the design allows you to fold down the rear seatbacks, then flip a switch and the “midgate” folds down on top of that to form a flat floor that goes all the way back, extending that pickup box to 8-foot-2 — which is long, by big truck, small truck or SUV standards.
The glass partition that looks like a rear window has two switches at the top, and turning them allows you to drop that rear window out, which opens the whole thing all the way from the folded-down rear seats to the tailgate. The glass stashes away in a fitted indentation in the midgate.
As an eye-catcher, the Avalanche stops and seems to startle onlookers. It is not unlike the Pontiac Aztek, which met with unanimous disapproval for being hideously ugly when it was introduced a year ago, looking like a fat Grand Am run amok on steroids.
The Avalanche is nowhere near as disagreeable looking as the Aztek, make no mistake. But when you drive down the street and notice people looking at you and smiling, you become immediately aware that if they are Chevy fans, they generally think this is the greatest looking vehicle ever built, and if you’re a Ford or other non-Chevy person, you think it looks ridiculous.
I found myself between the two extremes, but then I got to sit inside and drive the Avalanche. True, the full-four-door crew cab and the pickup box collaborate to make it extremely long — 221.7 inches, on a 130-inch wheelbase — as well as heavy. That doesn’t help the maneuverability, but the Avalanche proved to be plenty agile in spite of its heft.
With a 5.3-liter V8, the Avalanche takes off and runs fast and strong, with 285 horsepower at 5,200 RPMs and a whopping 325 foot-pounds of torque at 4,000. Even though it hulks at 5,820 pounds, the Avalanche will launch from 0-60 in just over 8 seconds. The Tahoe, and even the Suburban, also go fast, because of the tremendous power from the big V8, so the fact the Avalanche goes swiftly isn’t a big surprise. Those trucks aren’t known for great fuel economy, either, and the Avalanche fits that bill, too, with EPA estimates of 13 city and 17 highway. I got 13.1 miles per gallon on combined driving.
More surprising, the Avalanche handles surprisingly well for a hefty truck. The test vehicle had 17-inch aluminum wheels with 265/70 tires mounted. The independent front suspension and multilink coil rear suspension, bolstered by an off-road package that includes tuned shock absorbers and springs, help keep the big beast flat and stable in cornering, and a pleasing lack of tippy feeling that might be assumed from a high-center-of-gravity truck.
The other thing that is big about the Avalanche is the sticker price. Brace yourself. The test vehicle had a base price of $33,245, and as-tested, it came in at $37,406.
For that, however, the Avalanche is clearly loaded.
To start with, you have 4-wheel disc brakes, front and side impact airbags, a trip computer, leather seats, a trailer-towing package, a towing/hauling transmission, the convert-a-cab (Chevy’s choice of words, not mine), and the assortment of rigid composite covers and boxes on the pickup box. It also has a neat heavy rubber mat on the cargo floor.
Options that helped boost the price include 6-way power seats with the leather trim, electric sunfoor, the off-road package, which also add skid shields, special floormats and some off-road quality air filters and suspension parts. Also, the OnStar communication global-positioning and help system, electronic climate control, tilt wheel, cruise, and a potent stereo with CD player.
The looks of the Avalanche may be somewhat controversial, but big, bold and brazen seems to be in these days.
Driving the Avalanche came at a useful time for me, too, because among other things, we were looking for a few large boulders to haul up to our home, which is being renovated. We spotted a good spot, and I loaded a dozen or so into the rear, onto that thick, rubber mat, and inside the composite tailgate. No problem, and I drove away. I actually forgot about unloading the boulders for a couple of days.
I remembered with a bit of a surprise, when I had to make an abrupt stop to avoid one of those wonderful folks who ran through a red light to make a right turn right in the path of this three-ton monster. I hit the brakes, and slowed without trouble while swerving to miss the bozo. At that time, I heard a rumbling sound coming at me from behind, with some degree of force. They bumped, comfortably, up against the front edge of the pickup box.
But I couldn’t get over the irony of it all, that I almost got nailed by an avalanche in my Avalanche.
Disclosure that fuel economy can improve is blatantly obvious
[[[[cutlines:
1/ A National Academy of Sciences committee has verified the obvious — fuel economy could be improved from readings such as 12.7 miles per gallon.
2/ The extremes of lifestyles range from cars such as the Mercedes “Smart” car (left) popular in congested European cities, to the SUVs and trucks such as the Ford F150 (right) that dominate U.S. driveways, roadwaysÂ…and fuel stations. ]]]]]
Have you heard the news? A committee organized by the National Academy of Sciences brought out the revelation that the technology actually exists to allow U.S. automotive manufacturers to increase the fuel economy on the vehicles they build.
Talk about an amazing grasp of the obvious!
The good thing about this disclosure, which was played as big news in the media, is that the Bush administration has said it would use this report to possibly alter the dormant standards on fuel economy, which haven’t been altered for a decade or two.
Over those two decades, U.S. automakers have devoted considerable energy to two things: 1. Building bigger, bigger, less-economical and far-more-expensive vehicles for the U.S. marketplace; and 2. Lobbying the government to not raise the fuel-economy standards because it would cause them to stop building the cars “America wants,” which just happen to coincide with the trucks those companies have been building and which have produced obscene profits for the companies.
We, as consumers, have been left in the dusty assumption that we don’t comprehend how much we’ve been had by spending enormous amounts of money to buy large vehicles with large engines, which get 10-15 miles per gallon.
Meanwhile, over in Europe, or Japan, or in every other nation where people drive cars, those people are driving small, compact vehicles with high-tech and efficient engines that produce tremendous fuel-economy figures.
I recently drove a couple of Ford F150 pickups with four-door cabs and flashy trim and huge V8 engines. My fuel economy figures showed 14.4 miles per gallon in city-highway driving. And the Fords are not the worst. I’ve driven Chevy Suburban/Tahoe models that got 11 miles per gallon. And I more recently drove a Durango with a big, throaty V8 that got 12.7 miles per gallon.
In Europe, Volkswagen engineers have refined their turbo-diesels to get over 100 miles per gallon, with a giant assist from the more-refined, less-foul fuel they get — at great expense. What continues to go unreported, or uncriticized, is that the fuel we get, whether gasoline or diesel, is so unrefined that it is filled with nitrous oxides and pollutants. Not only is it of poor quality, but the most high-tech engines from foreign auto-builders can’t even be brought into the U.S., and wouldn’t work efficiently on our fuel if they could.
So, if you’ve ever wondered why cars sold both in Europe and the U.S. can run stronger, faster and with better fuel economy with smaller engines in Europe than they can in the U.S., the focus of the consumers, the responsibility of the fuel refiners and the technical wizardry of the auto manufacturers have conspired to give them safe, high-tech vehicles with good power and great fuel economy.
When I visited France a couple of months ago, I was astonished to see all the tiny commuter cars zipping around. They handled congestion better, because more of ’em can fit in a prescribed space, and they make a lot more sense when you try to find a parking place in a city that has very few of them. But mostly they make sense because they are major expenses for buyers, who demand long-lasting durability and excellent gas mileage, because gas costs close to $5 a gallon.
Mercedes and Audi make tiny cars, as do Peugeot, Renault, Volkswagen and Fiat. Mercedes makes one intriguing vehicle called the “Smart” car, which is a very cute, very efficient two-occupant vehicle. You can find ’em everywhere, even parked on sidewalks. Might be the ideal commuter car, and it must get 50 miles per gallon..
Meanwhile, back in the U.S., where SUVs and large trucks fill the roadways, it takes a national organization to put together a committee to say that there might be a better way than to build 40-year-old engines, with ancient technology, and lousy mileage.
For decades, the U.S. government standards have declared that a company’s cars must meet a corporate average fuel economy (CAFÉ) average of 27.5 miles per gallon, while trucks must only average 20.7 MPG. In the decade that law was enacted, trucks generally meant work vehicles, pickups and delivery trucks. In the 30 years since, trucks have come to replace sedans and station wagons as mainstream commuter vehicles — possibly bought to tow trailers, but ultimately used as single-occupant commuters.
But by clever lobbying, the U.S. automakers have persuaded the government to back off on proposed increases in standards for trucks.
Now, I’m not suggesting that everybody who likes trucks, minivans and SUVs should dump them for tiny cars. We’ve gone this far, and there is no easy and efficient way to get back to reasonable size.
A whole new bracket of consumers insists it wants and needs large trucks for the safety of size, for the up-high visibility, and for the four-wheel-drive capability in wintertime. As I’ve written repeatedly, Up North drivers have more legitimate reason for such trucks than anyone, because of cabins, outdoorsy things like fishing, hunting, snowmobiling and hauling. But the country is filling up with unneeded trucks, used to replace sedans.
We are only now learning that such trucks are less agile, less maneuverable, and prone to rollovers if you try to handle them as you ordinarily would handle a car. True, you are safer in a big truck if you hit a small car, but it’s also true that you are far less able to miss hitting something if handling and steering control is required. Conversely, the small car driver might be more at risk of being injured if hit by a large truck, but the small-car driver also has a far better chance to swerve, steer, brake or otherwise duck the accident.
There is no reason we should assume accidents are inevitable. Avoiding them is still the best course of safety.
The logical course of action is to work hard on making smaller cars safer — something Europe has done very well. Volkswagen’s Beetle and Golf rank among the safest vehicles of their size ever built. Meanwhile, the large, overweight and ill-handling trucks — the biggest fuel-economy culprits — could be made leaner, tighter, slightly smaller, and be fitted with higher-tech engines that would deliver adequate power and also greatly increase fuel economy while limiting emissions.
In our runaway surge to buying and owning large trucks, we have allowed the car-makers to insult our intelligence by tantalizing us with more power and looking the other way when it comes to gas mileage.
Because we actually buy more trucks than cars nowadays, it is staggering to learn that in the face of advertising and marketing about more power and modern engineering, in the year 2000, vehicles built by U.S. companies got their poorest fuel economy since 1980.
If you don’t think our government was intimidated into inaction on this issue while greenhouse gases, global warming and costly fuel refills took over our lives, consider that the government is nearing the end of a 6-year prohibition that has prevented the Department of Transportation from even studying any changes to the fuel economy standards for U.S. cars.
Ford moved ahead of General Motors and Chrysler a few years ago when it introduced overhead-camshaft engines on its pickup trucks and SUVs. Chrysler responded by offering some OHC engines on its Jeeps and Durango and Dakota pickups, and now on the new Ram. General Motors was the most stubborn, but GM also is coming out with new, in-line 6 engines with dual-overhead cams, multiple valves and all the latest high-tech touches.
It’s taken years, but the U.S. is finally getting with it. In this computer era, when your kid won’t consider a computer that might be six months old, it’s hard to believe any major company could assume we would think 40 or 50 year old engines were high-tech.
Or that getting 10-14 miles per gallon made any sense, whether fuel costs $1.50 or $3 per gallon.
The Europeans realized that, out of necessity, years ago. And they didn’t need some well-funded, national association committee to tell them the obvious news. Saying our auto-makers could find ways to improve fuel economy is a lot like declaring it’s better to be rich and healthy than poor and sick.
When it gets too hot, convertible drivers have to put their tops up
[[[cutlines:
1/ The BMW 325 convertible retains its classy good looks even with the snazzy fabric top up.
2/ With the top down, the BMW 325 convertible is an eye-catcher, as long as it’s not too cold — or too hot! ]]]]
One of the great bits about the old Johnny Carson Tonight Show was when Carson would get going in his monologue and say something about it being hot, prompting the audience to chorus: “HowÂ…hotÂ…wasÂ…it?”
Carson would then give any of dozens of catchy punchlines.
This past week in Minnesota, and all across the Upper Midwest, has been scorching hot, setting records day after day, and also bringing up such trivia as the “hottest low temperature of the day” records, which Duluth set several times.
I love the weather and its changeable characteristics. I love it when it’s hot, when it’s cold, when it’s chilly, when it’s raining, when it’s foggy and grey, when it’s unseasonably cold, hot or whatever. That’s why Minnesota, and particularly Northern Minnesota, and most specifically the North Shore region, is my ideal country.
This past week, however, my limitations were reached. I thought it would be a perfect time to be driving a convertible — any convertible — to take advantage of the wind-in-your-hair freedom from the oppressive heat. When my random sampling of raod-test vehicles showed up, and the car of the week was a BMW 325 convertible, it seemed too much good fortune to be true.
Now, however, I must confess to a new and previously unanticipated new answer to Johnny Carson’s old crowd-baiting question. If Carson returned and his crowd asked “How hot was it?” — I would have to answer that it was “So hot I had to put the top UP on my BMW convertible!”
Yes, I learned the hard way, or at least the hot way, why people in Florida, or Arizona, or California, buy convertibles but mostly drive them with the tops up instead of with the tops down, as the auto-making gods intended. I used to think it was strange that folks in Florida probably didn’t put their tops down as much as Minnesotans, who took their punishment from the cold winters to appreciate it when the temperature got warm, and anything above 55 degrees was a good reason to put the top down on your convertible.
Late last fall, dangerously close to winter in Northern Minnesota, I got a chance to test a BMW 323 convertible, and I reflected on how it looked so good that I couldn’t resist driving it with the top down whenever I got the opportunity. Often that meant turning the heater on with the airflow aimed at my feet, and even wearing a fleece jacket and cap so that I could make the car live up to its flashy potential even while overcoming potential hypothermia.
Why, I wondered, didn’t I have the luck to get a BMW convertible in the summertime? Now I have, and I’m crying out for moderation.
Sixty degrees, or even 50, is better for convertible driving than 95. Those people who calculate heat index from combining temperature with air movement and direct sunrays and humidity — as well as those skeptics who would rather not believe in such figures — should come up with a new category. Something like “heat index in a convertible.”
Modern convertibles are so neat that they have pretty well mastered the ways to keep cold air off your face and body, and the quest to make convertibles comparatively quiet while running with the top down has impressively been conquered. But when the sun is scorching us at 90-plus, and the humidity pushes the heat index over 100, having the top down to enjoy the sun is too much of a good thing.
We were in the Twin Cities last weekend, and the onboard thermometer climbed to 96, 97, 98, and 99, and I wondered if it wasn’t possible that BMW had cut a corner by not having a three-digit thermometer in its readout. An hour later, there it was: 100, and even 101. At the time, I was wishing we could be in Duluth, knowing full well we could be driving along the North Shore and it would be 75, or even 65, right at that moment.
But we weren’t. We were being fried in our seats in the BMW, so I raised the top. True, I felt as if I had committed some sort of crime against nature by putting up the top and turning on the air-conditioning. Especially when I’d see a Miata or a Chevrolet Cavalier convertible with the top down. I’d envy them for an instant, and then I would look into their faces and see pure agony. For the chance to look “cool” in a figurative sense, they had abandoned any chance at being cool in a global-warming, where’s-the-ozone-layer-when-we-need-it sense.
As it turned out, we journeyed north to Duluth Sunday night, and it was surprisingly warm, even then. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday came and went, and by then, I had capitulated. When it hits 90 or more in Duluth, and along the North Shore, it is time to raise my convertible roof and contemplate solar-powered cars.
Cars are tested severely when it’s that hot. We in the North Country are wise enough to take care of our cars for the winter, when cold temperatures are an obvious threat. But we sometimes are guilty of overlooking maintenance in the summer, when hot weather can be just as bad, if not worse, for your car’s parts.
If you wind up on a freeway where construction forces lane reductions that make the term “freeway” wistful thinking, at best, and the term “gridlock” is much closer to reality, your car can suffer from overheating, which can leave you stranded by the side of the road, and also can do serious, almost terminal damage to your car’s engine.
If you see the temperature gauge climbing seriously high, you can do a couple of things to help it get you home. For one, the idea that if you let the engine idle or run at low RPMs it will stay cool is completely backward. Run the revs up a little, which will cause the fan to spin faster and the cooling system to circulate better, which can reduce the internal temperature. Turning off the air-conditioning is another good way to save your engine’s energy.
By far the most effective way to bring down your engine’s radiator heat is not pleasant; it requires turning on your heater, full-blast. That way, the car’s heat is dissipated by force-feeding it into the passenger compartment. Good for the engine, not so good for barbecued occupants.
The problem with a car overheating carries with it the problem of the driver overheating. Drivers become irritable, hostile and aggressively angry when they get hot, and when you couple that with freeway slowdowns and other construction ventures, it can escalate dramatically.
In the far north, that usually isn’t a problem, because people have gotten along just fine without house air-conditioning or car air-conditioning for decades, because you could always count on it to cool down, especially by the big lake, at night, no matter how hot the daytime hours were. But that may no longer be valid.
Maybe it’s global warming, but our temperature and weather has been severe rather than moderate for two or three years now. Think about it: We don’t have a gentle rain shower, we have either dry conditions or a monsoon. We don’t have pleasant fall afternoons in the 50s, it seems to go right from summer to winter. We don’t have many lazy snow flurries, where we get just enough to put a white coating on everything; it’s either no snow until Christmas, or record-setting blizzards whenever it snows.
Same with the heat. Where are those perfect, Duluth-legend 75-degree days? Instead, we get strangely chilly 60 degrees with fog, or else we get what we got in the past week — 90-plus temperature, with serious impairment threatened by the temperature index.
With all that in mind, the BMW 325 convertible is still an awesome car to drive, never mind the $40,000 price sticker. BMW has converted its base engines for the 3-series to six cylinders, in-line, and amazingly smooth and strong. Dual overhead camshafts with variable valve-timing make the 2.5-liter six a potentially hot runner, with 0-60 times that make you forget you’re in a classy boulevard-running convertible. The test vehicle didn’t have the manual shifter, which elicits those hot times. Instead, it had BMW’s slick 5-speed automatic, with a separate gate for clutchless manual upshifts and downshifts.
Handling suspension and steering are typically taut, enhancing driver control over all aspects of driving. That is something BMW will never compromise, and keeps that Bavarian company as among the world’s standards for performance sedans, coupes, sports cars, and now SUVs.
The fierce-looking, enclosed quad headlights, and well-aimed foglights set off the sleek front, and the whole thing fits a styling package that has elevated the 3-series coupes and sedans to becoming the standard of most auto-fanciers’ idea of ideal.
Adding the convertible top is interesting. Most convertibles look good only with the top down, and they look stodgy with the top up. Which always made me snicker when folks used to put vinyl fake-convertible tops on their sedans, just to pretend they had a convertible, and overlooking the fact that a sleek sedan looks better than a convertible with its top up.
The BMW 325, however, takes a different tack. With the top down, it’s sensational. With the top up, it looks very good, almost as good as the 325 coupe itself.
The true beauty of the 325 convertible is, however, like all BMWs, in the engineering attention to detail. Putting the top up and down is an exercise in engineering that you can use to impress people. Push one button on the console and hold it down, and all four windows drop down, then the top lifts off the front and starts back, then the whole top kicks forward, letting a motorized hatch open toward the rear, then the top resumes its journey, back and down until it is completely nestled inside the cubicle, which the hatch then closes with a snap-shut finish.
All of that takes longer to describe than it does to make it happen. Putting it back up means pushing a different button on the console, hold it down and the whole process reverses, with the hatch rising to the back, then the top coming up and forward, moving far enough to let the hatch come back forward and lock in place, then the top spreads fore and aft and locks in place. Keeping your finger on the button after the top is up and secured will cause all four windows to rise also.
Similarly, on the console where the four power window buttons are located, a fifth button will allow you to raise or lower all four windows at once.
Very impressive, and I showed off the mechanical marvel of the power roof going down dozens of times to friends and bystanders.
But during the last week, I almost always followed the demonstration of putting the top down by another demonstration of putting the top up, the windows up, and turning the air-conditioning on. Full. Johnny Carson would understand.
Durango R/T larger than life when moving load gets too heavy
[[[[cutlines
1/ The Dodge Durango combines pleasing contours in exterior styling with a roomy interior and deep-throated power.
2/ Full instrumentation sets off a useful interior in the Durango R/T, which can seat seven or haul all your “worldlies.”
Thank goodness there are trucks. If ever there was a good reason for why people need to have trucks instead of mere cars, it is when you have to move. I moved two weeks ago, and it was my good fortune to have at my disposal a test-drive of a Dodge Durango R/T for that timespan.
When all you need is basic transportation, to work or play or to the shopping center, you need a car — not a truck. In fact, in those instances, a fancy, expensive, oversized truck is a wasteful exercise in misuse of resources.
But when you need a truck, you really NEED a truck, and a car just won’t do the job.
I drove the Durango first at its introduction in Texas, what must have been four years ago. I was impressed with its styling, departing from the series of squares and rectangles that seems to plague the stunted design techniques for almost all trucks. I was further impressed that while the Durango was definitely a truck, it contained all the necessary car-like assets that make a lot of trucks user-friendly to car-folks. And then some.
Since that introduction, I’ve driven a couple of other Durangos, and found them still impressive. When the Durango came out, some folks at Chrysler’s Jeep branch were a little miffed because they wanted to be Chrysler’s SUV brand, so the Durango got the hearty, good-ol’ engines, and Chrysler saved the high-tech, overhead-camshaft 4.7 V8 for introduction with the new Jeep Grand Cherokee one year later. So, a year after that, the 4.7 found its way into the engine compartment of the Durango, and it was a match made in heaven.
The 4.7 revs willingly and high, and provides adequate power with reasonable fuel-economy, which is a departure for most SUVs. But in the truck biz, power — raw, brute power — is what the customers want. If you haul a trailer, or a lot of stuff often, so that you either are carrying or towing a heavy load, you know how important it is to have a truck with tremendous power.
New for 2001, the Durango now comes out as an R/T model, which long has been Dodge’s high-performance/sporty designation, dating back to Chargers and Challengers of the 1970, and now advancing to such vehicles as the Viper, Neon, Stratus and trucks.
The test vehicle, a bright metallic silver, came armed and dangerous with a 5.9-liter V8, the modern equivalent of Chrysler’s potent old 360 cubic inch V8. In Durango R/T form, the 5.9 emits a low growl on takeoff, launches you like a dragster, builds its throaty sound to a nice roar as the revs build, and can either take you far and fast, or haul very heavy things right off their moorings. True, a loaded Durango R/T can command a sticker price of $36,000, but it gives you alloy wheels, giant tires, leather seats and all sorts of fantastic creature comforts.
I put the Durango to good use, first to haul four 18-year-olds from Duluth to the Twin Cities and back for a summer hockey league game. We won, incidentally. It hauled all the hockey bags and the players without disagreement. That same week, we had completed the sale of our 28-year residence in the Twin Cities suburb of Shoreview. The movers had taken away almost everything except a few little odds and ends left behind for me to take. I slept on a padded camping thing on the carpeted living room floor for the last night, then I got up at dawn and packed the stuff into the Durango.
Ah, if only it had been that easy. I had gathered all the stuff left behind next to one of the garage doors, and I noticed, with each of 20 some trips, that the gathering became larger and larger, and the stuff seemed bigger and bigger. Pretty soon, I was wishing for another pass by a moving van instead of me standing there alone with a Durango outside.
So I backed the Durango up the driveway, and right about then I started appreciating the vehicle’s neat features. First, open the rear hatch and it swings high, revealing a surprisingly large storage area behind the seat. That’s significant, because the seat in question is the third-row passenger bench which takes the Durango from a roomy 5-seater to a surprisingly-still-roomy 7-seater.
To get into that rear-most seat, you needn’t be a contortionist. You open the rear side door, and you notice only one adjustment lever, which might concern you, since you intend to fold and tilt the backrest, and would like to do the same to the seat cushion. No problem. The Durango was ingeniously designed so that you put your fingertips under the lever and pull up, and the spring-loaded backrest immediately tilts forward. (You’ll probably want to make sure nobody is sitting in the seat when you do that, of course.) Now, without taking your fingertip off the lever, you lift the lever upward, and the entire seat, folded-down backrest and all, tumbled forward and up against the front bucket. All you need do then is climb up at an angle, and sit down on the rear-most seat.
Once back there, you notice that the seat is raised slightly, so you can see over the folks ahead of you, and actually command a forward view, instead of being back there with the feeling of a waif lost in an abandoned cave. Also, if you’re over 6-feet tall, you also notice that the headliner is carved out in a concave trough all along and above that rear-most seat, increasing your headroom just enough to prevent the onset of claustrophobia.
As easy as that sounds for getting occupants into the rear seating area, imagine how much it helps loading the proverbial 10 pounds of stuff into a 5-pound bag. Or, in my case, loading 1,000 pounds of stuff (my estimate) into a 5-pound bag. How was I to know that the Durango could become a 1,000-pound container (also my estimate) as well.
You stand outside the Durango and you do the double flip on the lever to tilt and tumble the second row of seats out of the way, then you notice a diagonal strap over the front corners of the rear-most bench seat. Without any instruction, but just going by instinct, I reached for that strap, and to my surprise the whole rear bench seat and backrest slid forward, down and level, creating a huge expanse.
I had extra bounce in my step as I stalked back to the yawning tailgate, and I started loading. And kept loading until exhaustion — mine, not the Durango’s. Lamps, phones, boxes of equipment, industrial-size vacuum cleaners (plural, please), clothes, window shades, throw rugs, carpets, welcome mats, plants, larger plants, planters both outside and inside, along with assorted and all manner of odd things our family had accumulated in 28 years at that place. Some of the more urgently-needed items were stashed on the front passenger seat, and the final cooler-full of juices and water were within reach, along with my trusty computer and camera equipment.
The only thing I didn’t take was an expensive bottle of wine and an expensive bottle of whiskey. I don’t touch the stuff, and we had had it for over a year in case a special occasion visitor required it, and I was unaware my wife had packed it in an otherwise innocent-looking cardboard box with a bunch of fluffy light things on top of it. As I strode boldly into the garage with that box, the bottom fell out, and the explosion was as immediate as it was loud, and permanent-sounding. The two bottles of booze shattered on impact, covering my sandal-shod foot, leg, and the entire garage with tiny pieces of glass and an incredibly stark and fruity aroma.
Luckily, one other final item I was to pack was a broom, which I put to good and energetic use to gather up the approximately 2,000 shards of unidentifiable glass. The fruity alcohol smell wouldn’t go away, however, so I retrieved the rolled-up hose, reattached it, and washed out the entire garage. There would be another couple of hours before the new owners would show up, time enough to get the glass into the garbage bin and the flushed-out garage dried out. I re-rolled the hose and put it, the broom, and the other scattered items from the by-now duct-taped cardboard box, loaded them in on top of everything, and climbed aboard.
I was off. I pulled out of the driveway for the last time, and the Durango was a willing conspirator in making my departure smoothly efficient when it might have been overwhelmingly sentimental. I could only see partial evidence of the rear window through the inside mirror because of the height of my worldly possessions, but the Durango’s two large side mirrors were more than sufficient. The big V8 snarled and, without flinching, roared away. The temptation was to go too fast, because even overloaded the Durango wasn’t even a challenge for the big engine.
I stopped once on the way to Duluth, and as I walked back to the Durango, I realized that while it might be filled to the gills, and might have had a squat, overworked look — much like its driver — instead the Durango looked as though it might be heading off to the country club, or to pick up the gang from soccer. The dark-tinted one-way glass on the side and rear windows meant that nobody passing by the parked vehicle would have any idea how crammed full it actually was. Not only would any passer-by be unaware of all the stuff inside, but also would have no clue that opening either side door or the tailgate might result in a pedestrian totally covered by a pile of disjointed but apparently necessary belongings.
On the freeway, the Durango cruised easily, and I must say, other than an extremely expensive BMW X5, I adapted to the handling and performance of the Durango so that it felt as smooth and agile as a sedan as the week went along. The audio system was fantastic, with a CD player and lots of amps. The seats were comfortable and supportive, either around town or on the road. The power and the sound of that big V8 recalled the feeling of 1970 hot rods.
True, it didn’t get spectacular fuel economy. I got 14.8 miles per gallon on the road, and 13.3 in city driving. That’s not enough, in this $1.50-a-gallon society, and the Durango would benefit from a little less power and a little more gas mileage.
However, there is no car that would have helped me complete my move, no car that could have contained all that stuff, no car that would have performed so effortlessly under that severe load condition. And, loaded as the Durango was, I could have pulled a boat or camper trailer at the same time, without hesitation.
On top of that, the new owners of my former home had to be impressed by how neat we left the place. Including that delicate, fruity aroma that seemed to linger in the garage.
Miata offers contemporary retro thrills for latter-day graduates
[[[[[cutlines:
1/ Sun shining, winding road, top down on a Mazda Miata — formula for perfection.
2/ The topless seats of a Mazda Miata were ideal for the Bayfront Blues Festival.
3/ Special-edition Nardi wood steering wheel and trim set off Miata’s functionally retro interior.
4/ The manual top goes up easily so you can appreciate the rainbow, not the rain, from the Miata.
Who, among us, has not seen the venerable old movie, “The Graduate,” in which Dustin Hoffman, Jennifer O’Neill and a wonderful cast touched all generations with a movie for the ages? If there is anyone out there who hasn’t seen it, check out the cable listings, because it’s shown almost every week, somewhere. And if that doesn’t work, go rent it, there’s still time.
Along with a delightfully nerve-wracking plot, there was another prominent star in that movie. It was the Alfa Romeo convertible that Benjamin, Hoffman’s character, drove throughout the show, right up to his climactic race to the church to try to interrupt his lover’s wedding.
It wasn’t just any convertible, it was an Alfa Romeo, which adopted the name “The Graduate” for later versions because of the movie’s overwhelming popularity. After seeing the movie, everybody wanted a convertible roadster. MGBs and Triumphs had pretty much gone away by then, and Alfas were hard to come by as the tightening fuel standards pretty well dissolved the whole convertible/roadster/sports car genre.
Everyone interested in automobiles can bow deeply in gratitude to Mazda, the innovative Japanese company that challenged the world by bringing back the roadster concept with the Miata. It caught on instantly and has continued to sell well for a decade, while other manufacturers have scrambled to counter with all manner of convertibles.
All of which makes this a good time to catch up on where the Miata has gone. I got a chance to road-test a press-fleet Miata, and it was the special edition version, which means it comes in British Racing Green paint, with tan leather interior and the fabulous accents of Nardi wood on the steering wheel, shift knob and emergency brake handgrip.
The greatest thing about the Miata from its inception was that it recaptured all the wonderful, whimsical emotions of sports-car/roadsters of decades long gone, but eliminated all the nuisance problems those entailed. I mean, a fellow I roomed with in college got his hands on an old MG, and the rest of us got used to explaining to visitors how that hunk of iron in the kitchen was our roommate’s MGB motor. Once fixed, you were OK as long as you knew someone to accompany your drives as a riding mechanic.
Anyhow, the Miata came along and simply handled great — and even better when you hurled it around tight turns — and ran strong, with a fabulous exhaust note, with every detail functional and easy to operate. Instrumentation was simple, straightforward, and accurate. And the whole package was reasonably priced.
It was sort of the first attempt at turning out an ultra-sophisticated and modern vehicle that was aimed at being thoroughly retro. And it worked.
The only nitpick I had with the original, and various versions I’ve driven since, was that the flip-up headlight covers were huge, and when you turned the lights on, this big trapdoors flipped up and cut out about 20 percent of the driver’s forward visibility.
So we move into a new century, and Mercedes, Audi, BMW, Porsche, Honda, Toyota, Ford, Chevrolet, Pontiac and nearly everybody else either has a smallish convertible on the market, or wishes it did. Some are priced high, in the $30,000 or $40,000 range, and others are far higher, up closer to $70,000 or $80,000. None of them, however, can beat the Mazda Miata for bargain pleasure, at $26,745 loaded to the ragtop with options.
First and foremost, Mazda has never strayed from its original intention, of making a roadster that performed well and was truly enjoyable to drive. Drivers who can tolerate driving mundane, boring vehicles might as well stay away from the driver’s seat of a Miata, they just wouldn’t understand. On the other hand, maybe they, of all people, should be pushed into a Miata, just to learn how much fun you can have without breaking any laws.
The Miata has a 1.8-liter, 4-cylinder engine, tweaked to optimum performance with electronic fuel injection, and snapping the lightweight little 2-seater to attention through a 6-speed manual transmission. The Miata revs to the skies in every gear, and one change from the original that is much appreciated is sixth gear, which means you don’t have to cruise on the freeway with the revs at 4,000 and the wonderful sound becoming wonderfully TOO loud.
The rear-wheel-drive car has quick power steering, rack and pinion, of course. And 4-wheel double-wishbone suspension, just like the high-tech race cars have. So it takes off swiftly, shifts surely, corners with flat stability at any speed, and takes bumps without jolting out any of your fillings.
A Bose sound system, complete with CD player, and power windows and door locks all enhance the driveability. Two cupholders work, and remote keyless entry is a nice upgrade. A solid glass rear window also is beneficial, meaning it won’t get scratched up from frequent ups and downs of the foldaway top.
And, trust me, that top will get folded up and down with great regularity, especially in the changeable Northland. Putting the top down requires releasing two push-button latches and unlatching it, then pushing up on the front edge of the top and flinging it back, where it folds and drops into its own cubicle.
A tonneau cover is located in the trunk, and you can put that on easily, fitting it in here and there and giving yourself a smooth, aerodynamic outer cover. I tend to not spend the time to fasten that, and just trust that the top is down and out and not visible.
Besides, if you’re driving along and that threatening sky decides to drip a little, you can slow down, reach back — finding your hand almost magically goes right to the top’s handgrip — and pull forward. The top comes up and over and winds up right over the windshield, where you go blip-blip, and you’ve refastened the top. I’ve done it while rolling at moderate speeds, and while not advisable, it gives you the idea of how easy it is to operate.
Among other little touches Mazda has done to keep the Miata at the leading edge of roadsterism, the new car has stainless scuff plates on the lower edges of either side, dual cupholders, and a race-car style remote fuel door that pops up in chrome-plated aluminum splendor to reveal the fuel nozzle at your next pit stop.
Also, standard on the special edition model are 16-inch alloy wheels, with lug locks, in buffed silver, with 205/45-16-inch tires that give a large footprint and enhance the car’s stability and cornering. Four-wheel disc brakes also do the job, stopping the Miata smoothly and with precision. A limited-slip differential helps keep the power aimed straight ahead, and another structural stiffening trick is to add a brace to fix the strut tower and reduce flexing.
While thoroughly enjoying my week with the Miata, I did have it while I had to move a couple of mattresses during my recent move. No, there’s no way to do that efficiently in a 2-seat roadster. And yes, there are some things the Miata can’t do as well as a truck. But this is not a truck. It is a sports car, aimed at all-out pleasure driving. If it’s identity can be blurred, then blur it toward economy cars.
With that high-revving little 4-cylinder doing the job for power, the Miata will cruise easily at 75 miles per hour all day, and undoubtedly would be happy at a higher rate. But the efficiency of the engine is best described by the fact that I got 30 miles per gallon on the highway, and 27.6 in combined city-freeway driving. There are a fair number of so-called economy cars that won’t get 30 mpg these days. And those that do aren’t as much fun to drive as the Miata.
The headlights on the Miata require special note, too. They are bright, and they are well-supplemented by the foglights for illuminating the shoulders. They also are halogen, projector-style headlights with multiple reflectors. And they are flush-fitting, without the need for those huge trapdoor-like covers popping up to obscure your view.
So, there goes my only criticism.
Don’t get me wrong. The Audi TT, Porsche Boxster and BMW Z3, or the Honda S2000, would all have an edge on the Miata for power, performance and prestige. But you can’t get ’em for $26,000. And you can’t get any Alfa, in these enlightened times in U.S. automotives.
So if they were going to do a remake of “The Graduate” for 2001, Benjamin would be driving a Mazda Miata.
About the Author
John Gilbert is a lifetime Minnesotan and career journalist, specializing in cars and sports during and since spending 30 years at the Minneapolis Tribune, now the Star Tribune. More recently, he has continued translating the high-tech world of autos and sharing his passionate insights as a freelance writer/photographer/broadcaster. A member of the prestigious North American Car and Truck of the Year jury since 1993. John can be heard Monday-Friday from 9-11am on 610 KDAL(www.kdal610.com) on the "John Gilbert Show," and writes a column in the Duluth Reader.
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