The 2011 Toyota FJ Cruiser: Demonstrating that the world is still very big.

They keep saying that the world is shrinking around us. Cellular telephones, GPS, Google Streetview, wireless internet, and a host of other technologies allow we, the denizens of Earth, to access just about any corner of this fair planet on a whim, while Wikipedia, Google Search, and a decent data plan ensure that no question goes unanswered for more than five seconds at a time. However, contrary to popular opinion, the world hasn't actually shrunk an inch; it's still 24,901.5 miles wide; we just think the human race's reach has expanded. But, while heaving an axe into a fallen piece of timber to clear a logging road slightly to the west of the middle of nowhere, I'd beg to differ. 

Having coursed over nigh 500 kilometres of extremely dusty backroad searching for the perfect campsite over the Labour Day weekend, the situation had deteriorated somewhat since myself and two friends had departed from Vancouver in the great long weekend migration. Marking the end of any semblance of actual summer here on the West Coast, I had thought that Toyota's most off-road friendly vehicle would have been an excellent steed for the weekend's events, which were to consist mostly of campfires interspersed amongst excursions looking for tasty forest-dwelling friends of the fishy and furry varieties. With burly sheetmetal spread sparingly over the vehicle's practical wheelbase punctuated by abbreviated (but plastic) bumpers, it looked full of possibilities.  

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However, within 10 minutes of picking up my companions and their stuff, what the FJ seemed full of was anything but possibilities. Being perched upon a 109.5" wheelbase and bereft of superfluous overhangs, the FJ Cruiser simply doesn't displace much atmosphere that's not dedicated to the vehicle's motivation. And while that's great for off-road enthusiasts, it doesn't afford much room for those looking to cart around both supplies and people for a long weekend's worth of camping. Making extensive use of the optional (and pretty decent) roof rack to carry as many hard goods as possible, the FJ's rear cabin was positively brimming, even with the 60 side of the 60/40 split rear bench folded down. Opening both the front and rear doors made it apparent: the problem was the gigantic front compartment. Giving both myself and the navigator palatial space in every dimension, the front seats dominated the FJ's interior due in large part the 4.0L V6 and attached transmission's lengthy nature, which in turn gave Toyota's engineers plenty of space on either side of the drivetrain that's really only useful for front seat legroom. Likewise, all that drivetrain has to be covered by something, and it obviously afforded Toyota's designers with a wide canvas for their centre console and dashboard designs; both of which are festooned with storage bins and cup holders. But, I found myself wondering why Toyota hasn't adopted a column mounted shifter for the automatic gearbox, as that alone would free up quite a bit of space otherwise occupied by the awkwardly tall console-mounted  shifter. In any case, although the rear quarters were a bit cramped, all the space up front certainly made the driver's seat a great place to pass the time. 

Out on the road, the short wheelbase provided a surprisingly good ride, and the typical Toyota quality ensured that there was a squeak or rattle to be found. Being equipped to handle the roughest of rough terrain ensured that the suspension system provided a smooth and supple, if detached, ride at highway speed. Asking the heavily laden beast of burden to respond to inputs quickly was setting oneself up for disappointment, and even with the big 4.0L chugging along, steep and long inclines of the ilk that populate the coastal mountains left the FJ feeling a bit wheezy. However, once directed towards the roads less travelled, it came into its own. That previously disconnected suspension system provided by Bilstein was suddenly a godsend, as the big truck blasted, Baja-style, down the well groomed trails and roads winding through BC's cattle country. Travelling at highway speed down some of the smoothest and straightest dirt roads I'd ever seen, the dirt-borne FJ Cruiser's composure was equal to that which it exhibited on the long macadam connecting forest service roads. And when those arrow-straight and smooth-as-glass stretches became rock- and dust-infested ascents and descents taken at a torturously slow pace, the combination of a low range transfer box, traction control, and a locking rear axle ensured that not so much as a tire tread block was put wrong. Of course, the bunker-like windows  and beefy pillars did provide some of the thrills the capable running gear worked to dispel; reducing rear sight lines to "tree? what tree?" sort of standards... but that's what spotters are for anyway. And thanks to the handy roof rack, we could readily access any of the necessary tools required to break trail, from axes to chainsaws to shovels, all without compromising the dust-laden (but dust-proof) seal around the brimming rear hatch.

By the time we, the FJ's motley crew, had returned to civilization, we were in agreement: when the road disappears, there's few vehicles that can out do Toyota's FJ Cruiser. Well equipped with a smorgasbord of technological wizardry engineered to maintain the truck's forward progress, it excels in situations where directions are given in compass headings, locations are read out in longitudinal and latitudinal coordinates, and progress is measured in metres instead of kilometres. However, for all its off-road prowess, the somewhat diminutive FJ concedes some ground to the larger and more practical 4Runner when it comes to long-distance, equipment-heavy, less-than-extreme overland expeditions. That being said, the FJ does an excellent job of providing the car buying public with a counterpoint to the technology that is apparently bringing the world to our doorstep. Trading wireless connectivity for locking axles and a 110 volt inverter, the FJ Cruiser doesn't bring the world to you on a silver iPlatter, it brings you to the uncharted corners of the world. Because it's only when you've got a map spread out on the hood and a compass pointing your next direction that you can truly appreciate how little things like GPS-enabled cell phones, Wikipedia, and Google Streetview actually contribute to the human experience. And it's moments like that the FJ Cruiser delivers in spades.