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Suzuki’s Jimny Might Not Be a Great New Car, but It Will Be a Great Old One
I perfected my enviable cursing skills watching my dad try to negotiate our short but steep driveway in a rear-wheel drive 7-Series BMW during the odd snowy day in St. Louis. His knee-jerk solution was to buy a then-new first-gen, two-door Mitsubishi Montero, for those three or four really nasty days out of the year. The rest of the time, I drove it. When my pop sold it, I pined for that little rig for years. I’m still pining away, probably even harder, because I just spent a week, while on vacation in Costa Rica, with its spiritual successor, the Suzuki Jimny.
There isn’t a ton of forbidden fruit—ie, cars that we can’t yet get here in the states—left in the automotive world. A significant tranche of what enthusiasts have typically lusted for is now legal under the 25-year rule, and while the Jimny is no R34 Skyline, or even an Alpine A110, the bantamweight, incredibly capable off-roader has certainly captured the hearts of enough North Americans for it to credibly be considered a small, (maybe kumquat-sized), piece of forbidden fruit. And rightfully so—the Suzuki Samurai has already proven to be a popular pint-size collector 4×4, so why wouldn’t the Jimny follow suit when it’s finally legal to import?

The lens of history and the use-case of collector cars will likely both contribute to answering that question. Suzuki has already flamed out here once (twice if you consider the Samurai rollover debacle) and that’s probably kept Samurai values in check somewhat. As for how the Jimny actually works as a vehicle, it’s got undeniable appeal, even if day-to-day use is something of a mixed bag.
Like our old Monty, the Jimny has an absurdly short wheelbase—it’s around 92 inches for each. It’s so small that it’s actually considered a kei car in Japan from a dimensional standpoint. Our Montero had such appalling ride quality, with terrible rebound characteristics, that it required the seats to have their own crude suspension system. Not so with the Jimny. With a three-link rigid front axle and coil springs, I expected the ride to be super bouncy, but it was surprisingly compliant. Not that the roads in Costa Rica were anything like those in Northern Michigan, but there were enough imperfections that I could get a decent idea of how it would behave back home. At speed, however, it was another matter. Although few roads in Costa Rica have more than two lanes, and most aren’t marked above 80 kph, (about 50 mph), it did see 110 (just under 70 mph) briefly. It wasn’t terribly pleasant.

Costa Rican roads also have a fairly pronounced crown (in deference, I suppose, to the brutal rainy season) and the Jimny had a penchant for tramlining. That, coupled with rather slow and imprecise steering (recirculating ball with electric assist), made any sort of corrections mildly disconcerting. Then there’s the matter of getting up to speed or passing. The Jimny’s naturally-aspirated 1.5-liter four puts out a touch over 100 hp at 6,000 RPM and a paltry 96 lb.-ft. of torque at 4,000 RPM, giving it a tow capacity of “theoretical.” The engine is paired with either a four-speed automatic or a five-speed manual. Regrettably, I had the autobox, which had the shift characteristics of an old Borg-Warner three-speed, and the gaps in the ratios, particularly between second and third, were about as wide as Costa Rica itself. Happily, the Jimny only weighs about 2,400 lbs. and I estimated 0-60 in about 11 seconds. For the record, I saw mid-to-high-twenties in MPG.
In deference to the somewhat sketchy nature of my purchased rental car insurance, my off-roading experience was minimal—a few modest trails and a fair bit of banana truck passing on unpaved shoulders. The published specs show a Departure angle of 47 degrees, a Ramp Breakover Angle of 24 degrees, and an Approach Angle of 36 degrees. The English-language Indian press materials say this: “The 3-link rigid axle suspension in the Jimny increases [tire] contact in tough terrains. Add to that a superior ground clearance of 210 mm, and the Jimny is unstoppable in every terrain.” I’ll take their word for it, but it does have the look and stats of a competent off-roader (unlike me). Its 4WD system is part-time with a low transfer gear.

Unlike the last-generation of Jimny sold here (known as the Suzuki Samurai), modern electronics like stability control and ABS are standard. From an interior standpoint, the seats are hard and not particularly supportive, and the rear seats are suitable for adults only in small doses, but there is ample headroom for those who are taller than six feet. The infotainment system on the base car is neither informative nor entertaining. Think tinny speakers and a small touch-screen. Apple Carplay and Android Auto are included, but aren’t wireless. With the rear seats up, luggage room is minimal, and there’s maybe six inches of space between the rear seatbacks and the rear door, suitable for small duffle bags only. To carry any luggage, you have to treat it as a two-seater. The new five-door Jimny is much more accommodating in this respect.

Seen through a new-car lens, it’s easy to acknowledge why the Jimny isn’t among the larger, optioned-up, ever-more-complex (and comfortable, and powerful) vehicles in the North American market. But expectations shift when it comes to collector vehicles. Commuting? Highway use? Strictly optional activities, and the Jimny can meet more dedicated needs like a charming occasional-use city vehicle or compact trail rig. Add in the fact that what’s excessively simple as a new car can be refreshingly pure in this context—there aren’t a lot of current cars that will be thought of that way in a dozen or more years.
With that in mind, I do see potential for the Jimny as a cult collectible one day. The current generation was introduced in 2018. In Canada, it’s almost halfway through the waiting period under their 15-year rule. It might eventually reign as one of the ultimate kei car baubles. I might even be around to see it when it reaches U.S. legal status in 2043.
