From the December 2000 issue of Car and Driver.
We are not afraid of Ohio. No way.
We zipped right past the signs warning of “Amateur Karaoke Night” and beyond “Terry’s We-Grind-Our-Own-Hamburger Drive-In,” where even our commander in chief recently risked a basket of fried chicken. We steered smack through Circleville—home of the international pumpkin fest—whose main street was on fire and thus closed to all civilians except those driving F-150s with pulsating strobes. We cruised deep into Hitler country—first Huber Hitler Road, then Martha Hitler Park. We remained composed even as we idled past the Wampus Tribe’s intergalactic meeting hall in South Bloomingville.
We sustained this courageous clip in order to sample two Ohio routes that, among this seven-SUV group, would separate the men from the toys. First, there was our traditional, top-secret Hockingheim Ring Road—a challenge to MR2s and M3s, never mind a bunch of designer utes. Second, there loomed the off-road rigors of a trail more deeply rutted than Willie Nelson’s forehead—a trail that a forest ranger promised “might like to kill them bitty trucks dead.” He pronounced that last word “DAY-idd.”
This was fine with us. We had already perfected several southern-Ohio off-road techniques to successfully extract ourselves from axle-deep muck holes whose ejecta have been known to weld shut rural mailboxes for upwards of three months.
In fact, we went out of our way to select a trail whose 30 percent grades and nose-grinding creek crossings would place it on the “Don’t Even Try” list for all but a handful of America’s sport-uting faithful. Frankly, we reckoned only one or two of our enlistees would trample the trail’s terminus. This was, after all, the $40,000 designer class—mid-size SUVs one luxurious cut above the mainstream Chevy Blazers and Ford Explorers clogging grocery-store lots nationwide. With the exception of the Land Rover, the seven in this group were not so much SUVs as WOTTs—”wagons on tall tires”—with each borrowing more from sedate sedans than from tough trucks.
But you know what? They all made it. All seven. No kidding. With a little taunting, even the Lexus RX300 completed the trail, and it’s, well, you know, essentially an all-wheel-drive Camry. Which meant we could judge all seven by standards more regularly imposed by mainstream purchasers—the vehicles’ behavior at felonious speeds, for starters, rather than their potential for inducing random whooping.
One more thing. We had hoped to inflict this abuse on a few other candidates: a current-model Isuzu Trooper and a spanking-new Olds Bravada, for instance. We couldn’t get our hands on either. We might also have included a loaded Toyota 4Runner and a heavily optioned Jeep Grand Cherokee, but several nail-biting editors, whose names are now lost to us, eventually vetoed that duo for failing to achieve levels of luxury deemed appropriate to the class. If you are outraged by this, write a forceful note to the president of Eritrea. We’ve temporarily misplaced his ZIP Code.
7th Place: Land Rover Discovery
If you want your SUV to look like an SUV, buy one nearly a decade old. Back then, the SUV paradigm was a lightly madeover truck. That meant an upright windshield; live axles fore and aft; big-boulder-busting weight; and angular, flat-faced farm-boy styling. That’s the Disco’s résumé, you bet, a vehicle that, despite an upgrade to “Series II” trim (C/D, June 1999), is becoming the Hula Hoop of the class.
Although the little Rover offers the smallest wheelbase, it is the tallest and heaviest vehicle in this group. Its V-8 boasts the largest displacement—along with the loudest idle and most dismal fuel economy—yet produces the fewest ponies and, not surprisingly, the worst 50-to-70-mph acceleration time. Not good.
HIGHS: The vehicle to own if you live along a former Camel Trophy route.
LOWS: Directionally challenged. sloppy handling, inconsistent ergonomics and build quality.
VERDICT: An aging uncle who can’t summon modern levels of SUV refinement.
Its handling doesn’t set the planet alight, either. Once the Disco’s ladder-frame chassis is upset, it takes ages to settle, and the steering’s unpredictable gain forces the driver to take a series of cuts, hacks, and stabs at turns. Path control is so poor you’ll want to invest in a border collie, although even he will find that most corners still represent a frightening experiment in physics. Adding insult to injury, the Disco required the greatest distance to stop from 70 mph.
Where this Rover best roves, of course, is across scabrous goat tracks. As a trail hopper, it emboldens its driver with a commanding view, beefy low-range gearing that allows tortoise-slow descents, and velvety throttle tip-in that enables it to creep over rocks rather than assault them. When we initially explored an off-road route for this comparo, the Disco was the designated trailblazer, and when the Mazda photo van oozed hip-deep into fetid muck, it was the Disco that yanked it to shore.
There remain plenty of folks who don’t mind searching for window switches and seat controls, folks who suspect they’ll unexpectedly become Camel Trophy enlistees on the way home from the office, folks who find cachet and personality in British eccentricity. Hell, even John Travolta made the most of disco madness. Difference is, John moved on.
2000 Land Rover Discovery II
188-hp V-8, 4-speed automatic, 4853 lb
Base/As Tested: $36,850/$40,375
C/D TEST RESULTS
60 mph: 11.4 sec
1/4-Mile: 18.4 sec @ 74 mph
90 mph: N/A
Braking, 70–0 mph: 211 ft
Roadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.74 g
C/D observed fuel economy: 13 mpg
5th Place (tie): Infiniti QX4
Yeah, yeah. We know. It’s a Nissan Pathfinder daubed liberally with lipstick and mascara. And sure, it commands a couple grand beyond what the snazziest leather-laden Pathfinder fetches. On the other hand, Infiniti’s version boasts an elegantly switchable transfer case that offers four-wheel high, four-wheel low, full-time four-wheel drive, or rear drive only, thus precluding the drag of an idling all-wheel-drive system when it isn’t needed. Which, frankly, is pretty much always.
Well, that’s not fair. The QX4’s V-6 was recently enlivened by 72 newfound ponies, so it doesn’t huff and puff anymore while scooping up mud in its three-spoke wheels or when climbing steep grades. And once it noses over Annapurna’s summit, its low-range gearing doles out a usefully cautious descent. What’s more, its off-road ride is simply sumptuous: Ruts, rocks, ridges—you won’t even know they’re there. Even when you’d like to know.
HIGHS: Fine ride, elegant cockpit, Nissan reliability.
LOWS: Vague steering, brakes, and handling.
VERDICT: A cushy, comfy SUV eager to surmount the rigors of interstate cruising.
That enviable ride—surprise, surprise—comes at the expense of handling. When pushed, the QX4 leans, yowls, and squirms, its tires surrender like Grenadian rebels, and it slams into its bump stops as if to ask, “Excuse me, but have you become insane?” Around our handling loop, third gear was too tall, second too short. And throughout, the QX4’s steering and brakes acted like the world’s sternest secret agents: Under even the harshest questioning, they revealed little information.
What cost the QX4 more points—hey, it surprised us, too—is that it’s small inside. Whether for two passengers or three, its back seat was not only the least spacious but also the least comfortable. On the other hand, it sure is pretty in there: gathered-leather door inserts, convincingly real bird’s-eye-maple trim, a cool-looking clock, a chrome-trimmed shift gate. Every tuck, roll, and pleat is classy and warm, too.
On interstates, the Infiniti is a cushy cruiser, a long-distance pal. Think of it as the Lincoln of SUVs. Oh, wait. Forget that. More like the Cadillac of SUVs. Hell. Never mind.
2000 Infiniti QX4
240-hp V-6, 4-speed automatic, 4361 lb
Base/As Tested: $36,075/$39,025
C/D TEST RESULTS
60 mph: 9.3 sec
1/4-Mile: 17.0 sec @ 80 mph
90 mph: 23.1 sec
Braking, 70–0 mph: 209 ft
Roadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.69 g
C/D observed fuel economy: 15 mpg
5th Place (tie): Mercedes-Benz ML320
Back in the stone age—as much as 37 months ago, in fact—the ML320 topped a comparo in which it faced a previous-generation Jeep Grand Cherokee, a Land Rover Discovery, and a Toyota 4Runner. Back then we said, “It stakes out the middle ground between sport-utes and minivans.” That wasn’t a bad call.
Although it can’t match the Acura’s cargo capacity, the Benz is utilitarian. In fact, it is tied with the BMW for offering the longest wheelbase, and its back seat, at least for two, is a thoroughly comfortable perch from which to view Ohio’s Wampus Tribe.
HIGHS: Terrific back seat, packed with features, silver-star cachet.
LOWS: Toylike brake feel, a V-6 that struggles to keep up, ergonomically defeated stereo.
VERDICT: Satisfactory in all respects, superlative in none.
The ML320’s V-6 still strains, labors, and roars to keep this SUV on the boil, however, as its 10.3-second 0-to-60 time attests. The steering is still numb on-center. Its brake pedal offers an initial false resistance making it tricky to modulate. And although the ML320 can be forced to hustle along the Hocking Hills’ byways—indeed, it logged the second-best lane-change velocity—it goes to great lengths to resist it.
The Benz completed our half-mile off-road torture test, but it lost points for its poor approach angle, pedal-activated parking brake, and occasional reluctance to climb loose-surface grades. Instead of using limited slip or locking diffs, the ML320 relies on its brakes to grab any wheel that starts to spin. That sometimes cancels momentum at the outset of a serious climb. It’s like having one pedal fall off your bike just as you begin your most furious pumping—not necessarily defeating but always disconcerting.
The Benz lost more points for its imbecilic stereo. The dime-size volume knob is on the upper right-hand corner of the LCD screen, as far from the driver as possible. The cassette player is tucked behind the hinged screen, whose readouts, by the way, are often illegible in sunlight. And the cargo-mounted CD player—the object of many festive treasure hunts—is buried behind a hinged rack that must be unscrewed and pivoted out. If listening to a stereo is a deadly pastime, this Benz is the safest SUV on the road.
The ML320’s logbook began to stutter with the descriptors “midpack,” “mediocre,” and “satisfactory.” It is a curiously standoffish, unengaging device, despite the cachet the silver star reliably engenders.
2001 Mercedes-Benz ML320
215-hp V-6, 5-speed automatic, 4585 lb
Base/As Tested: $35,945/$41,665
C/D TEST RESULTS
60 mph: 10.3 sec
1/4-Mile: 17.7 sec @ 78 mph
90 mph: 22.2 sec
Braking, 70–0 mph: 198 ft
Roadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.69 g
C/D observed fuel economy: 17 mpg
4th Place: Mitsubishi Montero
With this new Montero, Mitsubishi had hoped to become the “value intensive” competitor to V-8 luxo-utes, notably the Lexus LX470 and the Land Rover Discovery. That the funky Montero can’t keep up with either is an ominous start. This SUV logged the worst 0-to-60 time and tied with the Land Rover for the tardiest 30-to-50-mph pass. On country roads, you’ll want to memorize this mantra: “Precise planning precedes perfect passing.”
The problem is the Montero’s embarrassing 4813 pounds. It is also the longest SUV here, but at least that stat enables it to deliver the next-to-greatest interior passenger volume and a third row of seats. If it’s slow, it’s at least usefully slow.
HIGHS: Gobs o’ personality, supple ride, powerful packet of off-road skills.
LOWS: Bottom-feeder handling, dismal acceleration, plasticky interior.
VERDICT: Great value in a package nonetheless crying out for a V-8.
This SUV is also useful in the dirt. With its two-speed transfer case, lockable center differential, limited-slip rear diff, gnarly Yokohama tires, terrific suspension articulation, 9.3 inches of ground clearance, and 42-degree approach angle, the Montero quickly became our off-road champ—as muck-ready as the Land Rover but without the Land Rover’s inclination to snap heads. The Montero also offers a cushier 10-to-20-mph ride over rutted terrain. So cushy that we never felt compelled to lunge for any of its 10 grab handles.
That colossal suspension travel, alas, draws notice on pavement, too. At speed, the Montero heels over like a stricken icebreaker, recovering slowly from rapid transitions before its progressive-rate springs can impose some discipline. Skidpad grip? Some, but it’s the slimmest in the group at 0.65 g.
Still, with an as-tested price of $36,717, the Montero represents good value, and it’s simply dripping with personality. From the front, it resembles a bloodhound, nose scrunched up in olfactory bliss, hot on the trail of an escaped felon. Its shift knob looks like the business end of a Big Bertha club. Its side-view mirrors are evidently lifted from a Kenworth. Its emergency flasher button is the size of a computer mouse. And its manumatic is the only shifter in this group to reliably do what it’s told, when it’s told, every time.
“The Montero’s for the guy who cherishes originality,” said one editor. “The more I drive it, the more I like it.”
2001 Mitsubishi Montero
200-hp V-6, 5-speed automatic, 4813 lb
Base/As Tested: $35,817/$36,717
C/D TEST RESULTS
60 mph: 11.8 sec
1/4-Mile: 18.6 sec @ 74 mph
90 mph: N/A
Braking, 70–0 mph: 206 ft
Roadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.65 g
C/D observed fuel economy: 14 mpg
3rd Place: Lexus RX300
Since we first drove the Camry-derived RX300 in 1998, we’ve fallen in love with the car. Er, SUV. Er, tall wagon. It has changed little since then, although the 2001 model now includes standard electronic skid control and brake assist.
That this vehicle feels so carlike should puzzle no one. In this group, the RX300 is the shortest, narrowest, lowest, and lightest entry. If most of your driving is conducted in heavy traffic, this is the SUV to buy. It is agile, quick to duck into small places, easy to back up, and surpassed in braking competence by the BMW only. Heck, it even delivers the best fuel economy.
HIGHS: Enviable ride-and-handling trade-off, pinpoint steering, the most comfortable seats in the business.
LOWS: The off-road skills of an all-wheel-drive Camry.
VERDICT: Light and agile, the most sedanlike SUV on the planet.
Although its shrink-wrapped exterior constricts its cargo capacity, the Lexus repays its owner with ergonomically stellar biscuit-colored seats that we judged the best in SUV-dom. Not only was the RX300 a winner in our driver-comfort category, but it nabbed a trophy for two-person rear-seat comfort, too.
In Ohio, the RX300’s logbook began to percolate with accolades: “rock-solid platform,” “stable,” “super-low wind and tire noise,” “silky V-6,” “steering that is linear,” “a ride so good you’ll swear you’re in a car.”
There remain, however, a few un-Toyota-like details: a parking brake that intrudes on the dead pedal, an overdrive switch clinging like an afterthought to the side of the shift lever, and four identically sized climate-control and radio knobs.
Not surprisingly, the Lexus also lost points as it whimpered along our off-road trail: no dedicated low range, no usable engine compression for braking, and passenger-car tires. With the least ground clearance of this bunch, the RX300 had difficulty stepping over a felled tree the others climbed easily. Still, it completed the route, although throughout it resembled a poodle in the midst of a coon-hound trial.
This is a quiet, ingratiating vehicle whose on-road poise and wholesale absence of truckishness do much to overcome its paucity of off-road skills. And if your daily agenda includes no rock hopping, opt for the $34,440 front-drive RX300. Talk about great value.
2001 Lexus RX300
220-hp V-6, 4-speed automatic, 4023 lb
Base/As Tested: $35,100/$41,124
C/D TEST RESULTS
60 mph: 9.6 sec
1/4-Mile: 17.4 sec @ 79 mph
90 mph: 23.2 sec
Braking, 70–0 mph: 188 ft
Roadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.68 g
C/D observed fuel economy: 18 mpg
2nd Place: BMW X5 3.0i
It will surprise only Salingeresque recluses that the square-shouldered BMW emerged the sports car of the bunch—more activity than utility. It boasts almost perfect weight distribution, the best skidpad grip, and an emergency-lane-change velocity of 58.6 mph. Further, the X5 halted from 70 mph in 177 feet, a feat few automobiles can duplicate.
Little need be said of BMW’s fast-revving 3.0-liter six, either. Not only was the X5 the second quickest to 60 mph, but it tied for the greatest speed in the quarter-mile and had no trouble besting our top-gear acceleration tests. Then there’s this: No SUV here was quieter at full throttle or at a 70-mph cruise.
HIGHS: Teutonic fit and finish, astounding brakes, athletic grip.
LOWS: Tiresome low-speed steering, limited cargo capacity, inflated sticker.
VERDICT: The SUV for persons who, above all else, value velocity.
Speed, silence, grip—how come the X5 didn’t win? First, it’s no cargo queen. Although it’s tied with the Benz for longest wheelbase, the BMW offers the next-to-worst interior volume and is capable of hauling fewer vital cases of beer than our editors deemed advisable. Second, its steering is annoyingly heavy and sluggish at low speeds, making this SUV feel porcine and ponderous in traffic. Third, its accelerator pedal clacks like an office stapler and delivers throttle tip-in that is sports-car abrupt. Finally, the X5 is just plain expensive, with base and as-tested sums sure to induce lower-GI cramping.
Moreover, the X5 was about as comfortable off-road as Eminem in La Bohème, hobbled initially by stiff springs and too little suspension travel, then by its lack of dedicated low-range gearing, although it does at least include “Hill Descent Control,” which automatically shepherds it at less than 6 mph down precipitous grades. Going uphill is another matter. Like the traction-control system in the Benz, the X5’s directs power to the wheels that have grip by individually braking the wheels that don’t. This sometimes aborts momentum. Moreover, if you’re facing a long stretch of loose surfaces, it’s a system that can cook the brakes. Despite all of its electronic braking circuitry, the X5 was the most prone to spin its tires as it scrabbled for purchase during our festival of filth.
Still, this BMW—with the smoothest-shifting automatic ever connected to an SUV—was voted the ute in which you’d most likely be cruising unwittingly at 80 mph and get a ticket. That’s usually a good sign. The easy speed, not the ticket.
2000 BMW X5 3.0i
225-hp inline-6, 5-speed automatic, 4696 lb
Base/As Tested: $39,470/$43,695
C/D TEST RESULTS
60 mph: 8.7 sec
1/4-Mile: 16.7 sec @ 83 mph
90 mph: 20.7 sec
Braking, 70–0 mph: 177 ft
Roadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.78 g
C/D observed fuel economy: 16 mpg
1st Place: Acura MDX
Hoo-boy. In this comparo, the Acura’s list of conquests began to resemble Wilt’s. It carries the most stuff, is the quickest to 60 mph, offers the best back seat for three, comes close to matching the Montero’s rock-bottom sticker, and—check this out—even meets California’s ULEV standard.
Like the Montero, the Acura boasts a pop-up third bench that can satisfy two kids. But the real revelation manifests only when you flatten every seat in the house: a cargo bay measuring 82 cubic feet. It looks like a small bus station in there. The MDX can swallow 34 cases of beer, as many as can some C/D editors. You can slide a 130-inch length of pipe in back. Between the wheel wells, you can flatten a piece of plywood four feet wide.
HIGHS: Potent V-6, seven-passenger capacity, a cargo-carrying king.
LOWS: Noisy at speed, looks like a minivan, requires a cautious off-road captain.
VERDICT: Just enough sport, plenty of utility; Honda integrity, Acura luxury.
What’s more, the MDX is confident, stable, and poised on difficult roads. Its steering encourages you to nail apexes, and it holds a steady, predictable arc through turns. On interstates, it tracks like an Accord. It evinces minimal body roll, and its ride—again like an Accord’s—is satisfactory though firm, more at home on byways unmolested by frost heaves.
Off-road, you push a button to deliver maximum torque to the rear wheels—as much as 56 percent, but this works only in first or second gears and below 18 mph. Although the MDX completed our dirt-dog test, it offered the worst departure angle, no hand brake, and scant engine braking. More troubling, it felt as fragile as the Lexus, insisting on a cautious, inch-by-inch pace. Its off-road salvation, in fact, may well be Honda’s steering, which transmits all you need to know about surfaces and grip.
There remain other flaws. The MDX is a heckuva big box, pushing aside so much atmosphere that it tied with the Discovery for creating the most racket at a 70-mph cruise. There’s no comfy place to stash your left foot. The manumatic shifter is not disciplined about holding a gear. The front seat cushions are as narrow as the BMW’s. The in-dash nav screen eats so much real estate that the HVAC switches are banished to an eyebrow shared with a digital clock, and you’ll have to fuss with the TV screen to alter the fan’s speed.
With its vast, sloping windshield, the MDX sometimes looks like a minivan—more than once did we saunter to the Mazda MPV photo van thinking it was the Acura—although it carries extraneous basketball teams like a minivan, too. Not by coincidence will it be produced on the same line in Ontario that churns out Honda’s Odyssey. If such soccer-mom associations scare off buyers, well, that’s a shame. Although the MDX’s driving dynamics and cockpit furnishings are not as engaging as the X5’s or RX300’s, it is certainly more practical, imbued with the “ute” that all SUVs promise but so few deliver.
2001 Acura MDX
240-hp V-6, 5-speed automatic, 4399 lb
Base/As Tested: $34,00/$38,500 (est.)
C/D TEST RESULTS
60 mph: 8.4 sec
1/4-Mile: 16.6 sec @ 83 mph
90 mph: 19.8 sec
Braking, 70–0 mph: 205 ft
Roadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.74 g
C/D observed fuel economy: 16 mpg