Vehicles

They may not be perfect, but . . .

 I admit to being a tiny bit anxious as the “official” resident Toyota Land Cruiser disciple when Graham Jackson and his wife, Connie Rodman, bought a 1994 Troopy to match the ’93 Roseann and I had bought, for a trip across Australia’s Simpson Desert and further explorations Down Under. You see, Graham has lived and breathed Land Rovers since his childhood in southern Africa when the family toured the Kalahari Desert in an early Range Rover. Connie is not far off in terms of disciple-hood, and the two of them drove a Defender 110 from London to Cape Town. While Graham has no intellectual prejudice against the Toyota, it’s clear where his heart lies.

So I naturally wanted those two Troopies to perform perfectly. Statistically I knew the odds were high, but we were dealing, after all, with two unfamiliar 20-plus-year-old vehicles with 230,000 km (ours) and 400,000-some km on the clocks. And Land Cruisers in Australia tend to be used as God and Toyoda-san intended. 

And perform perfectly they did. The naturally aspirated 1HZ diesels earned praise from Graham for their 20-21 mpg economy at 110kph on Australia’s paved highways, and for their effortless low-end torque once we hit the Madigan Line to cross the desert. I believe I overheard an adjective along the lines of “fantastic” a few days into the trip.

Once out of the desert and past Birdsville, we cranked up the speed again to get back to Sydney. On one stretch of highway I switched from the near-empty front fuel tank to the full rear—and about 15 minutes later the engine started faltering.

Well. Dammit.

We pulled over and consulted. The consensus was that the transfer pump in the rear tank, which simply moves fuel to the front tank from where the main fuel pump picks it up, was failing to deliver an adequate supply to keep up with the consumption at high speed. Clogged fuel filters were ruled out as the engine-compartment-mounted factory units had been replaced before the trip. It was a minor issue as we didn’t need the range of both tanks on the highway; we dumped our spare jerry can of diesel into the front tank and continued with no further problems.But was that the glimmer of a smirk on Graham’s face as he drove off? Just a minute upturn at the corners of his mouth?  So, they are not perfect.

Back in Sydney we left the vehicles with Daniel at the Expedition Centre for further modifications and an investigation into the fuel-delivery problem. And presently the answer came back.

At some point in the past 23 years a previous owner had, quite sensibly, installed a cheap Pep Boys plastic prefilter in the line just ahead of the rear tank—and then forgot all about it. Daniel’s mechanic found it, cut it open, and revealed a solid mass of gunk inside. Problem solved and truck running happily on either tank. They may not be perfect, but at least this issue was definitely not a Toyota issue.

To be fair, there was one other complaint acknowledged by us all regarding both vehicles: The stock seats were rubbish, especially after a couple of decades of ample Aussie bums bouncing around on them across the Outback. We’re addressing that now; report soon.

Why are there oranges in my tires?

 

 

 

You’ve no doubt seen racing drivers on a warm-up or yellow-flag lap weaving from side to side to keep their tires warm. The reason is that the rubber compound in race tires is formulated to be at its stickiest at race speeds and elevated temperatures. At cooler temperatures it quickly hardens and loses grip. 

You could fairly state that designing a racing tire is simple compared to designing a tire for a street car or SUV. The racing tire only has to last long enough to finish the race, and often not even that long. Fuel economy is well down the list of priorities; ride comfort and noise aren’t even on it. 

Not so with a street or SUV tire. Consumers want it all: long tread life and superior cornering traction, high fuel economy and safe braking performance, good off-pavement traction and low noise on pavement. A bunch of mutually exclusive characteristics. As you can imagine, a tread compound hard enough to last 40,000 or 50,000 miles and exhibit low rolling resistance to save fuel has a difficult time also providing above-average cornering and braking traction. Thus since the dawn of pneumatic tires manufacturers have juggled rubber and petroleum compounds to arrive at the best compromise for the application.

A few years ago Yokohama threw a new ingredient into the mix: orange oil, which, just as its name suggests, is derived from the oil in orange (and other citrus) peel—the specific compound desired is called limonene. Why citrus oil? One reason is to save on petroleum, of course, making the tire more “green.” But Yokohama claims a far more immediate benefit. According to the company, the tread compound in a tire constructed with limonene has the ability to instantly change viscosity in response to temperature. During normal driving the viscosity is high, resulting in low rolling resistance and long tread life. But during braking or cornering the viscosity shifts to a more sticky state, enhancing grip.

Proving or disproving this through independent testing might be difficult, since Yokohama does not offer otherwise identical tires with or without the orange oil technology. Most likely only a long period of consumer feedback and real-world tread-wear results will show if the concept is sound or just a marketing gimmick. The company gave me a set of the new Geolandar AT GO15 tires for our Ford F350 pickup, and so far they are performing excellently, with decent off-pavement traction and fine on-road characteristics. I just towed a 9,000-pound trailer full of Overland Expo equipment across the country, and had zero issues with handling or braking—including a couple of abrupt maneuvers to avoid insane suicidal drivers on the freeway through Dallas at rush hour (not fun at the wheel of 15,000 pounds worth of kinetic energy). The tread still appears within new specs, so I won’t be surprised if they last the full 50,000 miles promised by the guarantee. (The lighter-duty P/E Metric versions of the tire have a 60,000-mile warranty.)

I can’t find any other manufacturers using orange oil technology yet. I’m not sure if this is because Yokohama has managed to protect their use of it, if the others are sitting back to see how it goes, or if they are frantically testing their own citrus concoctions. Time will tell. 

 

Your very own Troopy? (Or Hilux, or . . .)

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What is the best expedition vehicle in the world?

Of course there isn’t one.

“Best” as applied to an expedition vehicle means different things to different people, and can vary even then in different situations with different logistical requirements. And any vehicle one might name out of “the usual suspects” will have strengths that might suit one situation along with weaknesses that might not suit the same situation. The Jeep Wrangler Rubicon Unlimited, for example, combines unmatched technical-terrain performance with a poorly laid-out and small cargo area and low GVWR. The venerable (and no longer made) Land Rover Defender 110 combines an excellent layout and capacity for cargo, an economical turbodiesel engine, and all-coil-spring ride comfort with outdated and cramped driver and passenger accommodations and a history of bipolar build quality. The Mercedes G-Wagen (the diesel-powered world-market version) combines mightily overengineered running gear, excellent traction, and a high GVWR with a fearsomely high price and potentially overcomplex electronics. 

Then there’s the 70-series Land Cruiser Troop Carrier, or Troopy as it’s known. Arguably the most primitive of the bunch—the only one still riding on leaf rear springs—its reputation hinges more than anything else on unmatched reliability and durability. Tens of thousands of them have shrugged off tens of millions of miles of abuse from safari guides and non-government agencies, hammering on faithfully regardless. Years ago Roseann and I, through the auspices of a crooked fixer, led a safari in remotest Tanzania in a wreck of an early (all-leaf-spring) example. It had layers of flaked tan repaint on it; the ancient 103-horsepower 2H diesel engine wheezed and blew Vesuvius-sized clouds of smoke; there were no seals left on any opening and bulldust choked the interior to the point of actually reducing visibility for the driver; the alternator died during a night drive out of potential bandit country in Loliondo and we had to light our way with a flashlight. We loathed that vehicle by the end of the trip—yet it just kept running the entire time, and for all I know still is. Many thousands of miles in much nicer examples have reinforced our admiration for the Troopy—especially those powered by the later (post-1990) 1HZ naturally-aspirated six-cylinder diesel. This has proved such a dependable workhorse that it is still in production 25 years later despite the advent of the much more sophisticated and powerful twin-turbo V8 diesel. The 1HZ is reserved for markets such as Africa where power is less desirable than simplicity. 

70-series

But reliability isn’t the only strength of the Troopy. Open the 60/40 split rear door and you are greeted with a cargo bay large enough to return echoes. It is literally cavernous, and the Troopy’s GVWR rating matches it. You could stash enough actual troops and armaments back here to engineer a coup d’état (and it’s probably been done . . .). For mere safari duty there’s room for all the gear you could possibly need for an extended stay away from supplies. And speaking of capacity, many if not most Troopies are equipped from the factory with dual fuel tanks totalling an astounding 47 gallons.

The driver and passenger seating area is spacious and visibility all around is commanding. Seating is comfortable if you get the individual buckets, not quite so good for the passenger with the split bucket/bench. Power-assisted steering and brakes make driving the beast easier than it would seem, and once loaded with guerrillas, AK47s, and RPG-7s the ride is really not bad at all. Finally, a comprehensive selection of bits to augment the strengths and correct the weaknesses of the Troopy is available from high-quality suppliers such as ARB and Old Man Emu.

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For those of us in the U.S. there was just one problem: The 70-series Troopy was never imported here, nor was any Toyota with the 1HZ engine. However, notice the date the engine was introduced—1990. That puts Troopies (and the companion pickup configuration) equipped with the 1HZ inside the envelope of the 25-year exemption for importing vehicles to this country. 

This was uppermost in our minds as we recently began planning a trip to Australia, where the 70-series Troopy is practially the official national vehicle for any travel off tarmac. Looking at ads on such sites as Gumtree brought up a good selection of vehicles, although many of them had obviously seen a lot of miles in the bush. Also, somewhat counterintuitively given Australia’s huge inland desert, rust is an issue—about 99.9 percent of the country’s population lives along the coast, and beach driving and saltwater fishing are popular pastimes. Prices for early 90’s Troopies ranged from around $5,000 (AUS) for dodgy runners up to $25,000 for pristine examples. Given the current favorable exchange rate (1$ AUS = $.75 US) this left a fair number of possibilities.

With some diligence and luck we found an extremely clean, low-mileage, one-owner 1993 model listed for sale at a dealer in Darwin, and after a few emails back and forth to confirm details, it was ours.

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Given its slightly later manufacture date, we’ll have to wait a couple years to import it, but we have plans for the interim . . .

Meanwhile our friends Graham Jackson (director of training for the Overland Expo) and his wife, Connie, searched for and found their own Troopy, with higher miles than ours but equipped with dual locking differentials and a drawer system. Both vehicles are now on their way to the Expedition Centre in Sydney, where owner Daniel will be installing a few modifications before we arrive. Then we are off to the Simpson Desert for a solid shakedown run.

If you’re interested in importing a vehicle directly to the U.S. and having most of the work done for you, look at AustoUSA.com. Phil Newell there is experienced in the entire export/import process. Of course Troopies are not the only potentials for one’s own version of the “best” expedition vehicle. There are plenty of Hiluxes, Prados, and Land Rovers available as well, including many that were purchased by visitors, fully kitted with roof tents, fridges, etc., taken on a trip, and then ut up for sale when the owners returned home. This opens the possibility of landing in Australia and picking up a fully prepared vehicle for your own journey for about what it would cost to rent one from the many outfitters there. The AustoUSA site lists all the costs to have a vehicle delivered to the U.S., including shipping, customs, etc. There is literally a “click to purchase” button.

Tempted?

 

Buy the tire you need, not the one you want

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Recently I received a set of the all-new Yokohama Geolandar AT GO15 tires to review for OutdoorX4 magazine. While sold as an “all terrain” tire, the tread on this Geolandar looks mild compared to many similarly marketed tires. And that got me to thinking about overlanders and our tire choices.

It’s natural to gravitate toward an aggressive tread design when buying tires for a four-wheel-drive vehicle. A more aggressive tread means better traction in steep or loose terrain, right?—which is why we have four wheel drive in the first place, right? And besides—let’s be honest—a mud-terrain tire just looks cooler than a more street-oriented “AT” tire. If appearance has never, ever entered into your tire-buying decision you’re a more logical thinker than I am.

Obviously, however, there are logical aspects to tire selection besides traction. The most critical of these—in fact the most critical of all— is safety. A street-biased tire with more closely spaced, shallower tread blocks will exhibit significantly better grip for both handling and braking than one with hyper-aggressive, open-blocked tread. That aspect could quite literally be a lifesaver in the right (wrong) scenario.

Fuel economy is a factor as well. When I switched from BFG All-Terrains to BFG Mud-Terrains on my FJ40 (partially because, yep, they just looked better) my fuel economy dropped by almost exactly one mile per gallon—and one mile per gallon on an FJ40 makes a difference, let me tell you. Then there’s tread life. Those closer tread blocks translate to less squirm, which translates to longer tread life given the same compound. Finally, even with modern computer-designed tread, aggressive tires tend to be louder at high speed, which can be a fatigue factor on long drives.

All these advantages to street-biased tires are obviously mostly advantageous on the street, and that’s where logic butts up against romance. Most of like to think we spend more time off pavement than we actually do. The reality is, if more than ten percent of the miles you put on your overland vehicle are actually off pavement, you are quite an adventurer. I’m not sure Roseann and I hit that, and we cover seven miles of dirt road just to reach our house. Much more frequently a backcountry journey will entail several hundred miles of highway and maybe 40 or 50 miles of trails. Thus, for most of us, for most of our time behind the wheel we would enjoy better handling, braking, fuel economy, and tread life with a less-aggressive tire choice. And we wouldn’t have to crank up the sound system so much to count how many times Terry Gross says “like” or “um” in one interview. Sorry, personal gripe.

Where was I? Right: There’s an additional factor to consider for those of us who own modern vehicles with sophisticated ABS-based traction systems and hill-descent control: We have more and better inherent traction available to us than we did when driving older vehicles with simple part-time four-wheel-drive systems. So we can enjoy just as much off-pavement ability with a less-aggressive tire—as anyone can confirm who’s watched Land Rover’s LR4s on street tires negotiate the Overland Expo driving course.

So the next time you buy tires for your overland vehicle, consider carefully—and logically. Do you really need those BFG Mud-Terrains, or would the All-Terrains perform better most of the time? For that matter, would BFG’s Rugged Trail suit your needs? Get the tire that works best, not the one that looks best. Then you can smile condescendingly at the guy driving by in the jacked up truck riding on those howling Super Swampers.

2015 Continental Divide vehicle report

Last year, the 1600 miles of the RawHyde/Exploring Overland Continental Divide trip proved to be a challenge for the participating vehicles (report here). This year’s journey proved just as challenging, in different ways. In no particular order the nine vehicles along this time were:

  • 2008 Ford F350 6.4 diesel double-cab pickup
  • 2012 Toyota Tacoma 4.0 V6 with Four Wheel Camper (our JATAC)
  • 2010 Toyota Tacoma double-cab 4.0 V6 supercharged, with canvas bed shell
  • 2014 Ram Power Wagon double-cab with Four Wheel Camper
  • Ford Raptor with Four Wheel Camper
  • 2014 Ford Raptor with Northstar camper
  • 2009 Sportsmobile on a Ford 6.0 diesel chassis
  • Toyota Tundra with fiberglass shell and roof tent
  • 2008 Toyota Land Cruiser 200-Series with roof tent

For the first couple of days we seemed to be getting off lightly—the worst issue to surface was a burned out turn signal bulb in the aftermarket headlamp assembly on Ross Blair’s Tacoma. But somewhere north of Grants, New Mexico, Michael and Darla’s Raptor/FWC combination blew the Firestone air bag on the right rear spring on a long off-pavement section, causing the bag’s internal bump stops to slam against each other over the mildest terrain. Inspection revealed that the air bag was the longer of the two offered for the Raptor by Firestone—probably a mistake with a camper mounted. It appeared that repeated stressing of the bag being folded over the lower location cone caused the hole—a worrying failure given the mere days-old installation. Much worse was the unbelievably shoddy installation by Desert Rat Off Road Center in Tucson. The over-long U-bolts securing the lower brackets had been left untrimmed, so they impacted the spring perches when the suspension flexed, bending them and smashing the upper threads. Phil Westergren, our ace group mechanic, advised Michael that the best approach might be to simply remove both bags and let the truck sag; when Phil did so, he found the nuts on both U-bolts finger tight. Disappointing.

With both bags removed, the compliant Raptor suspension did droop noticeably, but retained far more travel than had been available with the collapsed bag left in place, so Michael and Darla were able to continue along with us. (Interestingly, Dennis and Margie, also in a Raptor with a heavier Northstar camper, had the same bags and had no issues the entire trip.)

Day four brought us to a fairly challenging boulder-strewn uphill section on a Forest Service road. I climbed in the passenger seat of the Sportsmobile to offer Marka some in-cab hints on wheel placement, but it soon became apparent the vehicle was suffering a distinct lack of traction, as she failed to climb several off-camber sections. Indeed, Phil, who was marshalling, reported that the front wheels were not getting power even though the (manual) hubs were locked, the driveshaft was turning, and as far as I could determine from inside the Atlas transfer case was correctly engaged. Fortunately the Sportsmobile had an automatic rear locker—and thus full traction to both rear wheels—so we were able to get Marka through the difficult section. But it presaged more significant problems on the icy and muddy sections we knew would be ahead. This was another issue we had no time to investigate thoroughly on the trail—the constraints of a paid trip.

After camping next to Elk Creek (Colorado), we attempted to drive up over Elwood Pass. However, we began encountering snow patches even lower than last year, and soon Phil decisively stuffed his F350 into a three-foot-deep bank completely covering the roadway, halting his and our further progress. With a quick KERR tug from Ross’s Tacoma (eliciting the expected comments from the Toyota drivers), we bailed and headed for Salida, the town beneath the 10,000-foot grass plateau on which the RawHyde Colorado camp sits.

Marshaling a kinetic recovery from a safe distance.

Marshaling a kinetic recovery from a safe distance.

Reports indicated that, despite recent snowfall and rain, the back dirt route was clear, so we headed up the road through the San Isabel National Forest. As usual, Roseann and I took the tailgunner position to keep an eye out for any BF-109s tracking us with their MG 17s. No, wait, that’s not right. In this case, “tailgunner” just means making sure no one gets lost.

For ten miles or so the climb was uneventful—there were a few areas of slick mud and flowing ditches on the side, but nothing challenging—we were continually hitting lucky weather windows on this trip.

Then, after an easy creek crossing that led to a slight uphill section where water cut across the road and a ditch on the right carried it off, the two-meter crackled, and Cheryl in the Power Wagon said, “Um, I think I’m stuck,” to which Ross immediately replied, “No, you are definitely, absolutely stuck.” She had taken too low a line to cross the water-filled ruts in the road, and the massive truck with its mounted camper had slid into the ditch. 

First try at towing, which would fail decisively.

The axiomatic approach in such situations is to begin recovery with the simplest technique, then work upwards in complexity and potential risk. A simple pull from Phil and his F350 had zero effect, so I replaced Cheryl in the driver’s seat and we rigged a kinetic rope between the trucks. Phil gave me some slack, backed up smartly but not quickly—and the truck moved.

For about 15 feet. I was trying to turn it out of the ditch, but the slope sucked in the front tires and Phil’s truck spun to a halt—not helped by me staying on the Ram’s throttle for just a second too long, further burying the right rear tire in the muck if it needed further burying.

Time for the winch, but first Roseann left to drive ahead with the rest of the group to the RawHyde camp, while Phil, Ross, Kevan, and I stayed (along with the apologetic Herndons). Before the group left, we collected four MaxTrax-style recovery mats and I got our recovery kit out of the Tacoma. It was getting late and we did not want any more false starts, so we went back to square one, got out the shovels, and cleared muck until we could get a plastic recovery mat wedged under the front of each tire. The Ram was equipped with an excellent and powerful Warn 16.5 winch, but I wanted to both maximize its efficiency and slow down the operation, so we attached a pulley block to the F350’s front bumper and led the cable through it and back to the Ram.

First try, with rocks stacked in front of the Ford’s tires and brakes full on, the winch inexorably pulled the anchor truck toward the stuck one. The road surface was just too slick with mud to provide traction. So we daisy-chained Ross’s Tacoma behind the Ford, added more rocks, and that, finally, did the trick: The Ram ever so slowly hauled its way diagonally out of the ditch and on to ‘firm’ ground. We got to camp just in time for one of trip chef Julia’s superb dinners.

Ross Blair's Tacoma against the Colorado skyline.

After a layover day (and a timely winching seminar) at the RawHyde camp, we headed north to Hartsel for fuel, then explored several back roads on the way to Steamboat. At the fuel stop it became clear the Ram was leaking significant oil from the front main seal. Since it was highly unlikely this had been precipitated by the bog and recovery it had to be chalked up to coincidence. The engine only had 80,000 miles on it, so this seemed a bit premature. Near the same time, Joe noticed a heavy oil drip from the 6.0 turbodiesel in his Sportsmobile. This truck was equipped with dual external Amsoil filters—a worthy upgrade, except that one of the O-rings in the frame-mounted assembly had failed. Adding complexity also adds potential failure points.

Pushing a proper bow wave on a stream crossing.

From Steamboat we faced what would turn out to be our most challenging day—a circuitous, almost all off-pavement drive north along Elk River Road, past the comically oversized ‘lodge’ at Three Forks Ranch—at $850 per person per night out of our range—and into Wyoming. Since major highways in Wyoming are often barricaded during bad weather (“If light is flashing, Wyoming is closed—Please return to Colorado”), the side roads can prove adventurous. And Sage Creek Road turned out to be just that—40 miles of oil-slick mud that reminded me of, well, the camping area at the 2015 Overland Expo, actually. Joe in the temporarily two-wheel-drive Sportsmobile had the most difficult task: While the automatic rear diff lock gave him nearly as much traction going uphill as the open-diff four-wheel-drive vehicles had, when you lose traction  on a diff-locked axle, you lose it all. Yet he only lost it on one muddy dip, sliding gracefully sideways into the shoulder. Once Joe realized he was stuck he instantly cut the power (er, quicker, in fact, than I had in the Ram), thus we were able to hook up a strap from David and Noell’s Land Cruiser and tug the Sportsmobile free easily. For the rest of the path to Rawlins we watched from the rear as Toyotas, Fords, and the lone Ram waggled up inclines and crept cautiously down greasy slopes. It was an impressive display of driving by everyone.

David Alley prepares to gently tug the Sportsmobile out of a ditch.

Sadly, by the time we reached Wyoming’s Red Desert in the Continental Divide Basin, the Sportsmobile’s turbodiesel had developed a misfire—possibly an injector issue—and this, combined with the oil leak, convinced Joe and Marka to leave the group a day early and head for Salt Lake City to address things. The rest of us enjoyed a last camp on a broad grassy slope next to a creek, and watched a near-full moon pace the stars overhead across a sky unsullied by the lights of civilization. 

Conclusions? Note that several of the issues we experienced were caused by aftermarket additions—air bags, external oil filters. That’s a good reminder to be extremely careful when considering such modifications, to make sure any you choose are of high quality, and to be damn sure the installation is done correctly. It also points out the importance of pre-trip maintenance and inspection: The Sportsmobile, for example, had gone over 10,000 miles since its last oil change, an interval endorsed and boasted about by Amsoil, but over-optimistic for this kind of hard use.

Ford Raptor + no mudflaps =

Ford Raptor + no mudflaps =

Where quad-cab pickups rule

South America could be referred to alternatively as The Land of Quad-Cab Pickups. In the 6,000 miles we drove, the proportion of quad-cab models to standard cabs was at least fifty to one, if not greater.

The manufacturer range is extraordinarily broad. In Argentina, Chile, and Peru, the Toyota Hilux predominates in spite of its age (little changed since 2005). Manufactured in Argentina, it’s normally powered by the 1KD-FTV 3.0-liter four-cylinder turbodiesel, a bombproof powerplant that takes advantage of significantly cheaper diesel fuel prices here, but is beginning to lag in the power department with 172 hp and 260 lb.-ft. (A redesigned Hilux will soon be entering the market, but reports are that engines will be largely held over.)

Two other brands offer newer models arguably superior to the Hilux, at least on paper. The handsome Ford Ranger T6 has a 3.2-liter turbodiesel that produces significantly more power than the Hilux (197 hp and 346 lb.-ft.) ; the Ranger also boasts a greater fording depth.

The Volkswagen Amarok (which means ‘wolf’ in Inuit—and we get the ‘Tacoma’?) manages up to 177 hp and 310 lb.-ft. from a tiny but hyper-efficient two-liter turbodiesel. Despite their more modern design, neither the Ranger or Amarok seems to have cut far into Hilux sales. We also saw a few of the new and impressively specced Chevrolet Colorados, set to give the U.S. Tacoma some competition.

The Mitsubishi Triton appeared to be the second-most popular truck in a lot of areas, despite its (to me) ungainly styling and middling turbodiesel. Speaking of ungainly, in Chile the Mahindra is extremely popular, and I have to admit its wonky looks are growing on me—it’s definitely styling by Bollywood compared to Detroit’s Hollywood, but I like the huge window area.

Much more conservative is the Great Wall Wingle 5—the Chinese managed to combine an awesome brand name with an utterly dorky model name (but then there’s ‘Tacoma’ . . .). How long will it be before a Chinese vehicle manufacturer mounts a serious import campaign in North America?

Korean manufacturer Ssangyong fields a stylish pickup called the Actyon Sports. With all-coil suspension and a long list of family-friendly features, it appears to be aimed at a more urban audience.

Finally, we spotted just an example or two of a mid-size truck called the Xenon from Tata, the Indian megacorporation that owns Land Rover and holds the fate of the Defender in its hands.

And, we had some indication that the South American fondness for quad-cab pickups is perhaps not a recent phenomenon:



Our ride for the next month . . .

A little over a month ago we got a call from Lars Caldenhoven, the co-owner of PeruMotors. Lars and his partner lead long-distance motorcycle tours in South America, and also rent 4WD vehicles for self-drive journeys. They've been vendors at the Overland Expo several years running.

Lars had a problem. He was about to lead nine motorcyclists from Peru to Ushuaia, Argentina, in Tierra del Fuego, and was to turn around immediately and lead nine more back to Peru. A support truck, a Nissan Navara, would be left in Ushuaia and had to be back in Peru by the end of February. He needed someone who could drive it, and . . . there was a question mark at the end of the sentence. Roseann had tickets booked in 15 minutes flat.

The Navara is the world-market counterpart to the Nissan Frontier sold in the U.S. Unlike Toyota's Hilux and Tacoma, however, the Navara/Frontier is essentially the same truck, including the stout, fully boxed chassis on both (listening, Toyota?) The only thing the version we just picked up has that the Frontier does not is the superb YD25DDTi four-cylinder turbodiesel*, an engine for which many Frontier owners would gleefully sell close family members into slavery. Despite 188 horsepower at 4,000 rpm and 332 lb-ft of torque at a properly trucklike 2,000 rpm, it should be capable of fuel economy in the high 20s even on the back roads of Argentina, Chile, and Peru. We'll report. In the meantime, we're enjoying the Southern Pacific-like pull when the turbo kicks in at 1500 rpm or less, flattening the precipitous streets of Ushuaia. It will snap your head back and chirp the tires at 2,000 rpm in second gear.

*One thing Toyota and Nissan apparently share is a mania for dense strings of numbers to identify engines.