Price: £22,040
Top speed: 114mph
Towing capacity: 3.5 tonnes
MPG: 44.9
No car wants to be a truck these days, but lots of trucks want to be cars. In motoring terms, “car-like” is a compliment. Take a grunting, hairy-chested brute of a truck and call it “car-like” and you’ll almost see it blush and flutter its lashes. But why? For those of us who are regularly charmed by slick and smooth-talking cars, the chance to spend time with a proper unreconstructed oaf is refreshing. Heavy doors, high bonnets, loud engines, a vibrating gear stick, zero real visibility… Trucks keep it real.
So I was concerned when Nissan kept banging on about its new pick-up, the gargantuan Navara, being its most “car-like” yet. But I needn’t have worried. It is more car-like than before, but only in the same way that Donald Trump is more politically astute than he used to be. It is more refined, more economical and more responsive than ever – the truck that is, not the Trump. But it is still a hulking off-roader that drives like it means business. One of the reasons for Nissan’s soft sell on the Navara is that more buyers than ever are attracted by its rugged outdoorsy image rather than because they need to carry half a tonne of sharp sand and 50 paving slabs.
The Navara is feeling pretty pleased with itself at the moment. It has just been named the international pick-up of the year, though clearly such froth and bubble plays no real part in the life of a down-and-dirty working truck. The Navara is a one-tonne truck, which refers to what it can carry rather than what it weighs. It will also tow a further 3.5 tonnes behind it. It’s a decent 4x4 and can hare up a 30-degree slope without breaking stride. I went to an off-road test day and, in the hands of a professional driver, I was left gobsmacked at its capability. I was also left with a bruised forehead from smashing upwards into the roof as we plunged downwards.
Aside from the roof, it’s comfortable inside – and way plusher than it needs to be. There’s plenty of tech including a 360-degree monitor, forward emergency braking and “Nasa inspired” seats – though they looked like normal seats to me. The full-on 2.3-litre diesel is as guttural as Richard Burton clearing his throat, but it does offer best in-class economy. Steering is heavy and parking anywhere other than a farmyard is a work-out for the shoulders. My wife, flailing at the steering wheel one evening, wailed as she tried to park: “Why have we got this stupid big car?” I smiled back calmly and said: “It’s not a car, it’s a truck.”
Email Martin at martin.love@observer.co.uk or follow him on Twitter@MartinLove166
