This is the last vehicle on earth that I thought I’d road test. I’ve had a life-long hatred of 4x4s – especially ones this big. Out in the back of beyond, scaling mountains, rescuing sheep from trees or wherever they get stuck; yes, I can see the point. But around town? I laughed at their Chelsea Tractor-ness.

 

But then again, what’s life if you don’t try new experiences? So I thought ‘what the heck’ when offered an imported Toyota Land Cruiser Prado (carefully chosen from the vast range of vehicles on Barnham Car Centre’s forecourt). ‘Let’s give it a go,’ I said to myself. ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’

Now, I’m not the most lofty of people (as I’m sure that my colleagues will attest), so getting in was somewhat interesting to start off with. I tried the Frosby Flop, the scissor kick, no good. Thankfully, I then spotted the screamer handle, and used this to spring into the gigantic behemoth. For the uninitiated, a ‘screamer handle’ is usually located just above the passenger door and is used by nervous passengers to cling onto for dear life while screaming at the tops of their lungs as you negotiate the A27.

Once I’d caught my breath and stopped looking for the oxygen masks that I was sure should be located in the roof, it was time to look around. As I expected, there was plenty of space, more than enough in fact to swallow my current daily driver whole. Several times over. Since there are eight seats (the rear ones fold away to give you some boot space), the Prado really needs an intercom system for you to talk to those in the back – or you need a good set of lungs and ear plugs for the nearer passengers.

Space aside, it was unexpectedly comfortable and, dare I say it, quiet and luxurious. This is the top of the Toyota Land Cruiser range, and as such there are refinements everywhere.

Slightly more important than the level of luxury however was the experience out of the road. Put aside all preconceptions of dirty, noisy, slow and dull 4x4s – this one moved like a greased eel thanks to the intercooled engine out the front. The steering was very sensitive (ideal around town), the pedals well spaced and the whole driving ambience not far short of perfect. The size of the Prado and the solid build quality gives you an unparalleled sense of security and general invincibility

One mistake I made when going for this test drive was to take one of my friends along. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great guy, but he’s a petrolhead of the worst sort. So you can imagine how his eyes lit up when he saw the Prado. He instantly started to waffle on about how it was based on the Hilux Surf (1996 on) with the same chassis, engine etc etc. This, apparently, is a good thing as all those who have ever driven a Surf will know. I haven’t so I didn’t but I do now…

Things didn’t improve when we were out on the road. This being an imported version, there were little Japanese-y bits everywhere. The speedo was still in km/h (good job my mental maths is up to dividing by 1.6 as we went through the speed traps) although it would be converted to MPH on sale, there’s Japanese script on some of the displays and so on. But what my friend was most impressed with was the central instrument binnacle. At the touch of a button, you can see your average speed, altitude, barometer readings and outside temperature. Then there’s the pitch/roll indicator and compass. While I can’t see much of a use for these things in the supermarket car park, my friend assured me that they were just what you needed when scaling dizzying heights. Like he’d know – the highest he’s ever been is to the top of St Mary’s Church, Littlehampton (and even then he got dizzy).

And it went on like this while I was trying to get to grips with the Prado, so I decided that there was only one way to stop the tirade of technicality (fascinating though I’m sure that it is). A challenge and an answer to the age old question – who is better at reverse parking: men or women? The rules: only one attempt to park between the lines in a pub car park. The prize: the winner being treated to lunch at the restaurant of their choice. The game was on.

I let him go first, it was only polite (and gave me a moment out of the car to clear my head from the technogabble). I must say that it wasn’t a bad attempt – he swung the Land Cruiser confidently in the space, stopping about three foot shy of the back of the space and slightly on the diagonal into one of the adjoining spaces. You should have seen his face – confidence draining into uncertainty.

I did have my reservations about this particular challenge – nothing to do with my parking ability I hasten to add. The Land Cruiser feels big, looks big and the pub spaces looked very small. In fact, I was surprised at the visibility on offer and ease with which it could be slotted into a space.

On hopping down from the vehicle, I was gratified to see that not only had I nestled it deep into the space, but that it was also perfectly straight. And the news flash of the day – the Land Cruiser actually fits into a normal sized car space… This is probably due to the fact that the car’s footprint is actually no bigger than a Mercedes estate.

With that challenge won, all that was left was for me to collect my winnings and enjoy the new-found silence from my suitably sheepish friend. Somewhere where the starters are £50 a pop with main courses at least double that should do…

In all seriousness, victories aside, the Land Cruiser is remarkably easy to get around in. You soon get used to the sheer bulk of the thing, and with the pace/manoeuvrability, it makes a surprising amount of sense. This is compounded if you’ve got a large family – the eight seats would really come into their own and everyone would still enjoy leg room. It’s easy to drive and certainly no more thirsty than the average large estate car.

Maintenance, I’m told, is largely minimal and a lot less costly than one might expect (obviously I couldn’t judge this from a test drive, but am just going on what the petrolhead told me). With the levels of comfort, luxury and individuality that befits an imported Toyota, I found myself revising my opinions somewhat.

For 4x4 hater to 4x4 appreciator in one easy step – that’s what the Toyota Land Cruiser Prado did for me. And, much against my initial impressions, I really would like to get my hands on one for a bit longer – especially as the tax brackets for a pre-2001 4x4 will not change. There’s a mountain to climb out there, somewhere. Or, if not, I’ll make one out of a molehill and give it a go…