Sixty lunatics gather in the woods, the cold breeze raising gooseflesh on tattooed limbs. They shuffle and chatter, seeking out the sunlight that filters through the noodly arbutus, a cluster of modern GoreTex-clad druids. The high priestess ascends to give instruction on the day’s activities, an 18-kilometre sprint through mud and moss and rocky coast; her makeshift altar is the bed of a bright blue Toyota Tacoma.
Ah, the West Coast, where people run around in the woods on a Saturday afternoon until their lungs hurt and their toenails turn black, and call it recreation. The cross-country-trail running scene has exploded of late, with official races covering miles of rocky and technical terrain in all weather. Amateur-run events such as these are no less difficult, but there’s the promise of an orange wedge and a pint of locally brewed beer at the end of it.
Out here, where folks push their bodies to the bruising point, you find a Toyota pickup truck. It’s the official vehicle of guys in their 20s with an impressive portfolio of X-rays showing fractured bones. Heart-stoppingly gorgeous young women with scabby shins and quads like powerlifters hoist mountain bikes onto Toyota tailgates. Their beds hold snowboards, dirt bikes, kayaks, muddy hiking boots and backpacks. Dogs wearing bandannas grin from the passenger seat. In British Columbia, every day is Taco Tuesday.
Fire a cannon down any street in Vancouver’s core, and you’ll likely hit four Teslas, three Porsches, a couple of Range Rovers, and at least one Audi R8 with a new driver tag on the back. It’s a status-obsessed town, and people like to drive their wealth around.
But for a large segment of the population, horsepower and high-offset alloys hold little appeal. It’s not that there isn’t money in their pockets, it’s more that their dream ride doesn’t involve shiny paint glittering under city lights at midnight. These people like dirt and dents and gouges. If you’re busy pushing your body to its limits, you want a dependable tool with the brute-solid reliability of a boat oar.
Rolling up to a gravelly parking lot in a shiny new Limited Tacoma crew cab garnered a nod or two of recognition. This model year marks the first refresh for the truck in a donkey’s age, and bearded guys with sleeve tattoos are eager to ask questions. What’s the new 3.5-litre V-6 like? Are they going to put a diesel option in it soon? How’s the ride?
As to the first, it’s not bad. A drop in displacement from the old 4.0-litre has nonetheless resulted in a healthy 268 horsepower, great for passing power when you need it. However, the 265 lb-ft torque rating moves up the rev range over the old engine’s peak torque, meaning you need to prod the throttle and get the six-speed automatic to drop a gear or two.
However, the Toyota pickup was never about powerhouse performance, but about a legend built of reliability. When Marty McFly got back to his future and found a black Toyota pickup with yellow KC off-road lights, all the cool kids wanted one. When Top Gear placed a diesel Hilux pickup atop an apartment building, blew up the entire structure, and then drove away, the Toyota crowd nodded their heads. Yeah, these are some tough trucks. So how ’bout that diesel?
Currently, the Tacoma outsells GM’s Canyon and Colorado twins 3.1:1 in British Columbia. For overall Toyota sales, it’s third in volume. The rest of Canada is catching up, with Toyota reporting sales of the new truck up 75 per cent, year-on-year. While there’s no word on a diesel option, demand seems to indicate the market would bear a significant premium for the option.
Apart from the engine upgrade and a serious interior rework, the current Tacoma hardly deviates from Toyota’s proven formula – and why would it? Nothing short of an air-cooled 911 has better resale than a used Tacoma, with the result that former owners keep coming back. Shoppers would be far better off just buying a new one than trying to find a deal on a lightly used version.
Today, the Limited runs out into the woods to set up an aid station along the route for our trail runners. It carries water, supplies, a running stroller, and a couple of kids, ages three and 10 months.
As a family vehicle, the benefits of being able to change a baby on the tailgate and then store the diaper bag outside the cab cannot be recommended enough.
People buy Silverados and F-150s to work. They buy Corollas to commute, and Caymans for track work. A Tacoma, that’s a truck for people who like to play outside, whether the adventure’s a big one or just a little foray into the forest.
Fifty feet along the trail into setting up the aid station, my daughter trips over a root and falls. A bloody knee, the briefest of tears, back up and running hell-for-leather in a couple of heartbeats. Tough kid. I should get her a truck.
Editor’s note: With this article, West Coast-based Brendan McAleer begins regular contributions to Globe Drive and globedrive.com.
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