It’s the retro-inspired modern-classic mini hardcore off-roader. But does it belong in this day and age?

My very first impressions of Suzuki’s reborn Jimny off-road legend were full of childish smiles followed by a wagging tongue, not dissimilar to that of a dog’s out the car window. 

It’s frisky, capable, light and virtually unstoppable in first and second-gear squirts up and down the well-trodden slopes of the Melbourne 4×4 proving ground.

Before we get lost in the romance of Suzuki Jimny, and to allay any concerns you might have for taking advice from a 30-something-year-old journalist about off-road vehicles, as a teenager I did more off-road driving on the family’s bush property than most adults do before they’re 40.

I certainly don’t claim to be Roothy Boy Wonder, but I was learning to drive in a Troopcarrier, GQ Patrol and 80 Series Sahara before the government said I was of age to publically do so, legally.

What I’m about to say of the Jimny is not uninformed, nor is it intended to be harsh. Just honest.

I absolutely get the Jimny appeal. I want one. In fact, I still have the little wind-up scale model Suzuki Australia gave journalists on the press launch on my office shelf.

ROUGHING IT

It looks and feels like literally nothing could stop it, out there, in the scrub. And that’s probably true.

The main reason for this is its undeniable lightness. It doesn’t weigh enough to get it into trouble, in most off-road situations. Even if you stupidly try to put a foot wrong, it’s unlikely to bite you.

However, my two weeks loan of both manual and auto Jimny, courtesy of Suzuki Aus, didn’t allow the opportunity to fire it up the nearest rocky gradient. There are plenty of videos out there of it doing so, and I did get more than my fair share of such driving at the launch. Tick.

Its hill descent control will work its hardest against gravity going down the most unnerving descents, and fight like hell scrambling up the trickiest, most washed-out inclines. In the wilderness, when it’s just you, the other half and the dog atop a pile of camping gear, the Jimny absolutely fits the brief, especially when adding ARB bullbars, a Warn winch, UHF radio, Rhino roof racks and a Narva light bar to blind moths on the next ridgeline. 

But sampling both auto and manual Jimny in the concrete jungle, among trams and traffic, threading through thorny intersections and tracking towards Toorak, the onus of compromise starts leaning back onto the driver. You have to put up with having your kidneys, coccyx and hips pumbled.

Over potholes and broken bitumen, over speed humps and traversing driveways, kerbs and drainage grates, and battling the wild, punishing throws of suburban Melbourne, as well as enduring the hell that is St. Kilda Road, Jimny is flawed.

To be brutally honest, initially, the Jimny feels flimsy and floppy in the modern metropolitan world of speed humps, multi-vehicle freeway fracas and school drop-offs.

Am I missing something?

GEARING AID

The four-speed automatic – yes, you read that correctly – with overdrive – again, correct, and no, you’re not in the 1990s – has trouble deciding whether to change up or stay in gear and fire all 75kW of hilarious rage and a weirdly sufficient 130Nm of torque. 

It’s not smooth in any sense. Go hard or stop hard, is its mantra.

When you need to get going, the only option is to floor it, and wait for the cogs to change. The 1.5-litre petrol-four is a brilliant little engine, with mountain goat-like take off and consistent throttle input at low-speeds and for crawling over the crest of a dusty slope. 

But in traffic it peaks so quickly there’s nothing smooth or progressive about it, you’re just going or stopping. Hard. Hard because the brakes also lack grace and feel; preferring a lunging stomp on the middle pedal to wipe of speed (see-sawing on the front shocks) rather than a confident squeezing press of the pedal. 

The fact it weighs less than 1.1 tonnes in both auto or manual is your advantage here. it doesn’t carry a great deal of momentum.

The manual, however, is much better, presuming you remember what to do with the stalk sticking out of the floor. In a few quick movements you’re already in fifth gear, but again, in the real world, fifth on the freeway commute, still revs sit on 3000rpm at 100km/h – like a 40yo Torana! 

Also, on freeways, especially the likes of the M80 Ring Road where large sections are susceptible to high winds, so too is the slab-sided Jimny. While on said freeway, trying to overtake means revving its proverbial bits of, building up speed to the point air rushes over the windscreen and the cabin is filled with the rumbles of brick-like aerodynamic efficiency. 

When things calm down and you take a moment to appreciate the funky retro cabin design, the front passenger grab handle is one of the highlights (although the tough-looking hex-bolts are fake), and the use of space is clever considering there isn’t much. 

Window switches are on the centre dash in front of your left hand because there’s literally nowhere to put it on the door trim, the Suzuki infotainment system is joyfully easy to use, and a conventional manual park brake means less electronic faf to go wrong. 

However, the cupholder – singular – is totally useless sitting almost behind your left kidney, and the centre console bin is so small it should’ve been made into an armrest because there’s literally nowhere to put your left elbow. Also redundant is the door bin, which is so thin you can’t get your hand in to retrieve anything. This includes your phone which started the journey placed vertically for easy removal, but fell horizontal as you braked for traffic. 

TalkCars Hot Tip: Connect your phone to USB ports and use the cable to winch it out. 

The lack of a digital speedo means you’re guessing the set cruise control speed, until the dash cluster displays your needle is somewhere between 98 and 101km/h. 

This begs the question why a digital readout couldn’t have found its way in, given the guerilla-style level of anti-speed enforcement in our modern world. How much would it have cost? And no, you shouldn’t just use a phone app, although there are some good ones. You should not be glancing at your phone just to check your speed.

The Jimny is a remarkable vehicle and pulls the enthusiasts. A bloke named Eddie pulled up out front seeing the bright white 2019 Jimny on my nature strip. 

His 20-something lilac Sierra, is still going strong, despite faded stickers, crackled paint in places and an interior true to its odometer reading nearly 200,000km. 

We spoke for at least 15 minutes as he tried to wipe the smile off his face that he could get himself into the new one for less than 30 grand. 

CRUMBLE BEE

Personally, Jimny can’t be World Car of the Year, in my opinion, because anything less than a five-star ANCAP or EuroNCAP rating simply cannot be the best. 

But don’t confuse this with disdain. It’s just disappointment. Jimny only has two stars in 2020, and frankly that’s not good enough.

Engineering and design are both below expectations and surpasses them, because car buyers deserve life-saving five-star structural safety and airbags which deploy properly, and yet Suzuki has delivered exactly the Jimny people like Eddie want. 

Jimny is an automotive oddity in 2019. How does a Japanese car company – usually three words that ring with quality, baseline safety standards and dependability – like Suzuki allow its hero model return to the modern world without the benchmark structural integrity expected of a five star car?

In so many ways it’s a brilliant little machine that farmers, off-roaders, campers and adventurers will and clearly do love because order books were full from the moment word broke Australia was getting stock.

I spoke extensively with Suzuki about this little machine and sentiment from Australians for the bouncy mountain goat were strong.

But despite having autonomous emergency braking, there’s no gentle way to say I wouldn’t put my family in one, and never did in two weeks of loans courtesy of Suzuki Australia.

I’m sorry but, the Jimny has no place being the mode of transport for any of your nearest and dearest. It shouldn’t be a first car for the budding P-plater, and you should be ashamed using it to move your family about in the chaos of the public road network.

But it would serve brilliantly as much, much safer alternative to an ATV or quad bike. ATVs don’t have airbags or AEB or a heater for those bitterly cold 4am starts.

It’s easy to love the old-school Jimny, but in 2020, that charm isn’t enough.

It belongs on a farm or in the bush, off the beaten track so to speak, not on the public road.

That doesn’t mean I hate it, I do like it as an agricultural tool for moving about the farm, but I can really only recommend it to you on this basis.

Want to know more about the Suzuki Jimny? Shopping for a family 4x4? Ask me anything, I’m happy to help. A second opinion can’t hurt.