But beggars can’t be choosy. After months of grumping about how her dear son never makes the time to take her out to see the Rizal pine forests that she’s wanted to see for a long time now, she must bear the prospect of spending quality time in the back seat of a borrowed Adventure Super Sport to finally put said anxiety to rest.
As AUVs go, this is not the base Adventure she might find at the nearest FX terminal. This is, ahem, a Super Sport. Never mind that I personally don’t see what’s especially sporty about a vehicle with a high center of gravity and no more than 84 horsepower from the 4D56 diesel engine that’s powered light-duty Mitsubishis in this country for ages. Super Sport can mean a lot of things to different people. Psychologically, it can’t hurt to attach those Super Sport badges to a retuned and facelifted AUV that first bowed to the public back in 1997.
For P730,000, Super Sport buyers get all-power features, keyless entry with alarm, chrome here and there, raffish plastic body cladding, a big and toothy in-your-face grille, a sporty bumper with integrated fog lamps, and a rear wiper for the new lift-up tailgate among other things that separate it from the lower-line variants. For an extra P25,000, you can get your Super Sport with a 114 horsepower, 2.0 liter gasoline engine that’s mated to a smooth 4-speed automatic transmission. That variant makes it the most powerful AUV available, by the way... but that’s not what we’re driving today.
Today is our trip for that pine forest, and Father takes the wheel for all of 25 minutes. He is not familiar with diesel engines, and therefore has difficulty modulating the throttle. Diesel drivers know, of course, that this type of engine generally offers more torque off the line than gasoline-types at the cost of relatively low horsepower. It’s a rather jerky 25 minutes then, though this is none of the Adventure’s fault.
To its credit, I rather like the responsiveness of the throttle when I take over since it delivers what power there is quickly. Problem is, 84 horsepower is only 84 horsepower. The Adventure canters more than gallops when it’s time to overtake, especially when you’re going uphill. Patience, I remind the soon-to-be-senior-citizens beside and behind me, as I constantly shift up and down the extremely close ratio gears to keep the poor engine in the heart of its power zone. Father remarks that the engine clatters with distinctive noise. I point out that, yes, you can still hear it, but less so than with most other diesel vehicles with the insulation built under the hood. Clutch take-up is also smooth and light. Almost like a Lancer’s, actually.
Then he complains that the shifter shakes in its boot. I explain that this isn’t exactly a sophisticated and much more expensive diesel BMW X5, and so the vibration is to be expected. Furthermore, I also say that there is remarkably free play with the shifter in its gate; a rarity in the Adventure’s class. And to ruthlessly drive home the point, I tell him the vibration might actually be good for his arthritic hands.
Mother began to warm to the Adventure the moment she noticed the rear A/C vents. But from the space, comfort and safety of the back seat, she tells me two hours into our journey that she neglected to bring a map. For the next hour, we wind up and down the hills of Antipolo, Baras, Rizal, and Tanay. We see plenty of hills, trees, weeds, livestock, and stray dogs, but no pine trees. After a while, she remarks that the best place in the back seat is the center because it’s somewhat more isolated from the movement of the rear suspension (the rear wheel wells are below the back seat).
Mitsubishi took note of past criticisms about early Adventures’ stiff ride and has softened it up since then. Now it’s a little too bouncy in the pitch and yaw dimensions, but at least the rear leaf springs don’t punish your kidneys anymore.
This is important to note, because at one poorly executed turn on a rough section of road, the Adventure bounces with sufficient verve to mildly bonk my mother’s head on the right-rear window. Perhaps it is the Adventure’s little revenge for all the disparaging remarks she made about its species in the past.
In any case, this knocks her into realistically thinking that maybe it’s time to give up, turn around, and look for a place to have lunch. It’s a quick drive back to Antipolo. Father asks if I might show a little more restraint going into corners and curves and stuff like that because they’re getting dizzy. I apologize and say that, weak engine notwithstanding, the Adventure turns in with, I truly dread using the next term – car-like alacrity.
This is because the Adventure’s double wishbone suspension and 14" street tires provide responsive steering; just the right amount of feedback transmitted to your fingertips through an unfortunately thin-rimmed and slippery urethane steering wheel.
Everybody liked the Adventure’s greenhouse area. It gives off a panoramic effect all the way to the jump-seat area. Looking in, the full velour seats are of unusually good quality. We may have not seen any pine forests too, but the Adventure’s (as well as the other two brands’) plastic forest is — to our collective eye — simply too much.
By itself, the dashboard is elegantly functional in the placement of switches and dials, but where are the cupholders? Engineering types will note that the dash also seems to be a modular design for easy adaptation to both left- and right-hand drive markets.
Though we never did get to make full use of the Adventure’s cargo-carrying capacity, the Adventure’s 70/30 split bench folds and tumbles forward against the front row. So configured, anything from a year’s worth of groceries to, oh, a suitably chopped up pine tree can fit. We may not really be an Adventure family, but given everything that it can and can’t be, it’s no surprise that Mitsubishi’s rugged family and cargo hauler is still going strong after all these years.