En Route to the Singularity? Current vs. Pre-Nanny Acura MDX
An Anonymous Coward writes:
Motor Trend is running an interesting comparison -- the new/current Acura MDX vs a 2003 Acura MDX.
tl;dr -- the author concludes that doing things for himself (instead of the car/SUV doing things for him) is preferable.
I ease the MDX onto the freeway, starting up the on-ramp at a gentle trot then matting the accelerator to get a lower gear-but there is no lower gear to be had. With only five speeds to choose from, third is my only option. The engine builds power and hustles up to freeway speed. I push the dash button to turn on cruise control-not adaptive cruise control, just cruise control-then hit Set. I look at the dash and see... nothing new. No fancy graphic display showing the traffic around me, no indicator of what speed I've selected, just a light on the switch and another on the dash. How refreshingly simple! The MDX tracks straight and true, but wind and road noise eclipse the engine's musical hum. That's not old age; that was turn-of-the-century Honda/Acura.
...
But really, should I expect more from this first-generation MDX? Back when it was new, Acura had the Integra to satisfy the hot-shoes, and this was supposed to be the big family hauler. Compared to its Y2K contemporaries, the MDX was a revelation-controlled and dignified, whereas the Lincoln Aviators and GMC Envoys of the time were heavy and clumsy. More remarkable than that is this: If a brand-new 2021 crossover drove like this 2003 MDX does, we'd have little to complain about.
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I load 10,000 Maniacs' MTV Unplugged CD into the six-disc changer and am enveloped by music and nostalgia-I had forgotten how crisp and clear music sounds without compression artifacts. Natalie Merchant's voice is as vivid as the colors she describes in Stockton Gala Days: "Blue in the stream like none I have seen, outside of dreams that escape me." Why did we ever give up on the compact disc? Lexus, for all those times I made fun of you for still putting CD players in your cars, consider this my public apology.
But I must continue my journalistic investigation, so I pop in a cassette, an Ani DiFranco concert that I attended in June of 1993, then taped off college station WITR-FM the next night. I remember cassettes sounding like crap, but either my memories were wrong or the MDX's Bose stereo is working some serious magic-or perhaps a bit of both. The sound quality isn't as good as CD, but it's a lot closer than I imagine.
I kill the stereo and wander aimlessly about the suburbs, enjoying the way the V-6 goes from purr to snarl and the solid-feeling clunk as you engage the turn signals. Driving a museum-piece classic is often a stress-prone affair, but here in the 2003 MDX, I find myself feeling relaxed and content. What is it about this car that feels so welcoming?
And then the epiphany hits me like a speeding NSX: I am enjoying the 2003 MDX because it is letting me be. It isn't overwhelming me with tangential trivia on a computer-screen dash or blinding me with 65,536 colors of ambient lighting. It isn't trying to steer me back into a lane I don't want or warn me of impending doom in the form of a Prius that's stopped a quarter-mile ahead.
That is what has changed about luxury cars. They have gone from serving our needs to interpreting and anticipating them-a noble goal, perhaps, but often an invasive one. The first-generation Acura MDX is luxurious, but it's also simple and fundamental in its human-machine interface. It doesn't claim to know all and see all. It's not trying to help me drive. The MDX trusts me and I, in turn, trust the MDX.
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