On Wheels by Brooks Peterson

Saturday, December 16, 2000

Revamped Montero a cushy, but cool, cat

This auto-evaluating gig is not all beer and skittles, you know. Oh, granted, you get the opportunity to get up close and personal with all manner of vehicles - and if you're the sort of jasper who has been besotted with automobiles and things automotive virtually since infancy, well, it's like living out a fantasy (though, admittedly, a fantasy interspersed with perhaps a few too many vanilla cars, but that's the marketplace for you).
   Since the manufacturers for the most part provide these vehicles, you take 'em as they come, if you get my drift. The system usually works to near perfection, but occasionally there's one of those - whattaya call it? - anomalies. Yeah, that's the ticket.
   So it is that in the space of less than half a year, I find myself driving a 2001 Mitsubishi Montero Limited. Puzzling? You betcha. A bad thing? Not at all.
   In fact, having had the opportunity to reacquaint myself with Mitsu's bull-goose sport ute under less than optimum conditions (chilly temps and a bit of slop on the road now and again), I find myself constrained to render an even more upbeat appraisal than I did back in the dead of a South Texas summer.

2001 Mitsubishi Montero Limited Seven-passenger all-wheel-drive sport-utility vehicle Base price: $34,997 Price as tested: $36,392 Drivetrain: Single-overhead-cam 24-valve fuel-injected 3.5-liter V-6, 200 hp; five-speed automatic-overdrive transmission Brakes: Front and rear discs, power-assisted, with standard anti-lock (ABS) EPA mileage: 13city/18 highway Website: www.mitsubishicars.com

   But first, in the interest of bringing all of us up to speed, let's do the mandatory quickie review: The 2001 Montero really is one of those rarest of rare automotive birds: a vehicle that, apart from the nameplate, is new virtually from the ground up.
   To begin with, Mitsubishi (like some other SUV makers) has taken a deep breath and departed from the old verity, which held that a real sport ute must have the classic (or, if you prefer, antique) body-on-frame construction. And at least one live axle (in some instances, two).
   Vehicles built along those lines did indeed have a certain rough-and-ready simplicity and durability to them. Problem was, the ride and handling tended to be rough-and-ready as well - on-road or off.
   Totally retooled
   Hmm, says Mitsubishi to itself: With the SUV market becoming more insanely competitive virtually by the minute, we could do ourselves some good if we were to gentle down the ride of the Montero, sharpen the handling - and still cling to the block-of-granite ruggedness we've featured all along.
   Hence, they retooled the Montero from stem to stern: You've got your unit-body construction; you've got your independent suspension at each corner - and, by the way, on the Limited (our tester) you've got a nifty five-speed automatic transmission.
   More: Said trans allows you the option of shifting "manually" via an arrangement similar to the AutoStick format pioneered by Chrysler (OK: DaimlerChrysler).
   Test of time, terrain
   That box affords you entrée to Mitsu's ActiveTrac 4WD, which lets you choose among rear drive, full-time all-wheel drive, and 4WD high and 4WD low, both of the latter with locked center differential. So: We're looking at a sophisticated setup. And, to all indications, a solid one.
   Now, the years and the miles will tell the tale as to whether the unibody approach - which Mitsu swears up and down is significantly more rigid than that of the old Montero - will prove itself acceptably hardy after years of crashing and bashing through the underbrush, slurping through the swamp, and bouncing off the boulders.
   That, of course, is of serious interest primarily to serious off-roaders, who may comprise about 2.5 percent of the SUV market.
   The first thing that impressed me about this version of the Montero Limited - identical in virtually every particular to our first tester - was the alacrity with which this thing squirted away from a halt.
   Warm interior
   The hardy 3.5-liter V-6, one of the few carryovers from the previous Montero, was at once energetic and refined. The maximum punch seems to arrive at fairly low rpms; mid-range acceleration isn't as emphatic, but it's still decent, particularly as SUVs go.
   The second point to catch my attention in a mildly chill and gloomy mid-December week was the fact that this is really a pretty nice place to spend time. Particularly if the lottery of life has dealt you the Limited version of the Montero, which offers not only glove-soft leather upholstery but heated seats. Here in South Texas, many of us are not aware of just what a boon these bun-warmers can be. Believe it, pardners.
   In this connection, I need to point out something that might otherwise be overlooked: The Montero is one of the relatively few sport utes to offer a third seat out back. Now, granted, it's for very small persons, and once it's deployed your cargo space has pretty much gone away - but it's a plus . . . assuming you can figure out how to deploy it.
   I managed to haul it out of its bin in the floor, but never quite figured how to get the seatback at the right angle. Check the manual, you say? Phooey: If you have to read the instructions, it ain't worth doin'.
   A statement
   For the rest, all is as it was before. The handling is still a little tippy, but nothing like the quease-inducing swing-and-sway you got with older Monteros. And it seemed to me this time that the tired demonstrated genuinely impressive grip.
   Of course, there's still the Montero's somewhat idiosyncratic styling, with that snarling grille and those odd bulges in the front fenders - but it does seem to command a certain amount of respect (fear?) from drivers of lesser vehicles.
   But then, let's look at it this way, Bubba: When you decide to go the sport-ute route, you're not just buying a vehicle. Nossir. You're making a statement.
   And, c'mon, if you can't strike a little fear into the drivers of econocars, teeny two-seater ragtops and (yecchh) minivans, well, hey: What's the point, really? Either you were born to raise . . . well, you know . . . or you weren't. If you got the cattle, you ought to have the hat to go with 'em. Enough said.
  
  

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