Review: Toyota Previa 2.4 Q AT

Your very own road-going first-class private jet.

WORDS Marvin Tan  | 2 March 2009

One time while I was vacationing in Singapore, my SIN-MNL flight on Singapore Airlines was frightfully overbooked. So they arranged for me to take a flight the following day – a workday Monday, which I would conveniently miss – on business class, in addition to gifting me a set of lovely wooden pens and a not-inconsiderable amount in Singapore dollars as well as billeting me at the Holiday Inn Atrium at the other end of the city and footing the bill for taxi service. Moral of the story: when Singapore Airlines is overbooked – and this most-efficient airline rarely is – it is a time to celebrate. There’s just something magical about traveling business, and that’s because until the time that I’m filthy rich, I’ll never spend my own money to upgrade from economy to business, which is easily twice the cost. Not even on a trans-Pacific flight to Minneapolis, and certainly not on a transit as brief as Singapore to Manila. So each time I fly business, it’s a wonderful experience made all the more Splenda-laced by the fact that it is for free. That Singapore encounter being the first time in my life I flied business, I was not sure what to expect beyond the sumptuous chairs depicted in airline print ads. Apparently, a business class ticket permits entry into the deluxe Singapore Airlines airport lounge, where I could have parked my carcass on plush couches and feasted on free fare far more memorable than the McDonald’s spicy chicken burger value meal I would have bought in the dregs of the cattle-class waiting area. I could have, but didn’t, as I lost myself in the massive mall that is Changi Airport Departure and nearly forgot to board the plane. Once aboard, I was slightly amused that everyone else in the business class cabin were wearing suits and ties, and my t-shirt, jeans and sneakers stuck out like a ZTE broadband tongpats. I settled in my seat and marveled silently at how wide the seat was, how much stretch-out legroom there was and at how far the seat reclined. I panicked slightly when I couldn’t locate the LCD video screen, and when the attendant handed out socks – I had no idea what in the world the socks were for. Fortunately, I watched furtively as my seatmate undid his video screen from under the armrest, and then took off his shoes and put on the socks, and did the same as if I had knew all along. I probably looked like Mr. Bean for a few minutes. The stewardesses were prettier than the already fine-looking attendants in coach, and they called each passenger by name and not by barcode as they do in the back of the plane. They also asked me what I wanted for pre-pre-departure refreshments, pre-departure refreshments, post-departure refreshments, pre-lunch refreshments, lunch, post-lunch refreshments, pre-landing refreshments and even perhaps post-landing, pre-immigration, post-immigrtion and post-bagge-claim refreshments. Whew. I was thoroughly enjoying myself and was saddened when the landing announcement came on the PA system. This being a review of a vehicle, I suppose I must get on point. And the point is this: flying business class makes you feel ritzy and very, very wealthy. And this being a review of the Toyota Previa, I suppose I must get on point. And the point is this: the Toyota Previa is pure business class and makes you feel ritzy and very, very wealthy. In fact, it’s not so much business class as it is a private luxury jet. Every square inch of the Previa oozes with opulence and proud flamboyance in the spirit of the magnificent Chrysler 300C. You just know that this is an expensive luxury vehicle. Heads turn to ogle at the Previa’s captivating futurism everywhere you go. Some say it looks like a hypersonic cockroach from the thirtieth century. This would then be the best-looking cockroach I’ve ever seen. It just looks absolutely fantastic. Try this. Pull up to a proud five-star hotel in the Previa. See the watchmen – who are certainly jaded to expensive cars – snap to attention as the sharply cut-off white beam from the Previa’s beautiful HID headlights cuts across the driveway. Now make them go absolutely goggle-eyed by pressing a switch on the ceiling above the driver, which makes the sliding passenger doors open automatically – and theatrically – to let his and her majesty alight from their thrones. Hit another button to completely flabbergast the poor butlers, which makes the tailgate open skyward automatically… after which they will recover and remember to retrieve their majesty’s luggage from the hold. Hit the buttons again to close the doors without anyone ever straining a muscle, and by this time the watchmen will have broken into spontaneous applause, convinced that your vehicle is in fact a Transformer. The only problem is that passengers always forget that the doors are automatic, and then try to pull them open manually, whether from the inside or from the outside. This makes the door jam. After a while, reminding passengers not to pull the door open gets very tiresome. Speaking of thrones, the Previa has two of them in the middle. And what thrones! They’re covered in buttery-soft leather. They recline to almost horizontal. You can slide them back for infinite legroom. They each have two armrests. And the piece de resistance: they have built-in leg rests that can be raised to relieve your legs from the burden of having to rest on the floor. They are simply breathtaking and reliably draw oohs and aahs after the automatic doors. Occupants in the other four seats – the Previa will seat seven but six is optimal for maximum comfort – are not as pampered but only slightly less so. Third-row passengers ride in relative comfort, thanks to a fairly spacious seat (as third-row seats go) with adjustable headrests, reclining backrests and three-point belts. The driver and front passenger each have their own captain’s chair and are treated to a wide and well-laid out dashboard. Materials quality is faultless, and the quality of the leather adorning the doors are particularly noteworthy for their velvety smoothness. The movable console between the front seats swallows a whole lot of stuff, especially useful for long trips where for the first time in all my years of vehicle testing, I had no trouble keeping tollway tickets, receipts, coins, cash, two half-liter soda bottles, a cellphone, a camera, three CDs in their jewel cases, a pair of sunglasses in its case and a map in order and in easy reach. Bravo! The designers have artfully mixed the futuristic – take a gander at those radical gauges – with the traditional – the very Asian-feeling bamboo wood trim – and the result is a cabin that is eminently calming, supremely tranquil, astoundingly comfortable and undeniably upscale. This is unabashedly Japanese. This is Zen. This is Toyota at its finest. If the cabin came with a stewardess, it would be perfect. On that long trip I took, my passengers promptly fell asleep in their chairs within 47 seconds of climbing aboard. Can there be any higher praise for a vehicle’s comfort than that? That’s not to say that the driver gets a crap deal. The Previa, which is based on the much-loved Camry midsize sedan, moves smartly and drives like a car. It steers smoothly and precisely, although the electrically-assisted wheel is devoid of feedback. Chassis rigidity is good. The ride quality is a bit on the firm side but is still very comfortable. It’s easy to drive and light to the touch, and the relatively compact dimensions mean that parking need not be a nightmare. Highway cruising is quiet and syrupy, and the Previa is a summa cum laude in distance driving. The only relative downsides are a brake and throttle pedal that are a touch too sensitive until you get used to them, and that the smooth 170-hp, 224 Nm (165 lb-ft) 2.4-liter engine – mated to a four-speed automatic transmission driving the front wheels – is merely adequate in moving the 1,845 kg (4,059 lb) bulk of the vehicle. With a full load, passing on two-lanes becomes rather dicey and you’ll start wishing for the 268-hp 3.5-liter V6 that is available in other markets but not in the Philippines, and the 2.4’s straining shows in its fuel economy: just 7.67 km per liter on a highway run to Quezon with six adults on board, and 6.01 km per liter in the city. But on the whole, for an MPV, the Previa is very satisfying to drive and feels very refined and sophisticated. It’s proficient rather than exciting, but this fits very well with the vehicle’s tranquil character. For your 2,312,000 Jose Rizal coins, you get a lot of toys and nice doodads with the Previa Q. Four-wheel disc brakes with ABS and EBD. Check. 17-inch wheels. Check. Adaptive HID headlights with washers and auto-leveling. Check. Foglamps. Four-corner parking sensors. Dual-zone automatic climate control. Rear airconditioning. Keyless start with smart entry. Six-speaker MP3-capable stereo. Alarm. The aforementioned power sliding doors and liftgate. Power driver’s seat. Fold-flat 60/40-split third-row seat. Heated front seats. Tilting and telescoping steering wheel with multifunction buttons. Optitron gauges. Dual front airbags. Check. Check. Check. It would have been superb if a large-screen LCD screen and DVD player came standard, but that’s an easy aftermarket fix. That’s a lot of money. But this is just about the first vehicle that I’ve come across that I have hardly any bad things to say about. One ride in the Previa will tell you where all that money went. And here’s the most important thing. When you ride in a Previa, you feel you got your money’s worth. You feel happy about having made this purchase. You feel happy indulging in the comforts of this private jet. You feel affluent and successful. You won’t mind sitting in a traffic jam in a car as comfy as this, just as you won’t mind a 14-hour flight if it’s spent in a Singapore Airlines business-class seat. You can buy a Camry or Accord V6 for this price. But you know what, the difference between the Camry and the Previa is the difference between taking a business-class flight on Singapore Airlines and taking a private Gulfstream G550 executive jet. In short, I heartily recommend the Previa Q, especially if you will be sitting in the back seat most of the time. It’s a brilliant redefinition of what an MPV is about: rather than the conventional MPV proposition of offering space for carrying many people, the Previa offers all that space for you and just you. It is a superbly impressive luxury car with a Ph.D in making you feel good. And that’s what luxury is all about. Two thumbs up for the Previa. THE GOOD First class luxury Wonderful cabin space and ambience Brilliant captain's chairs Sharp looks THE BAD Touchy brake and accelerator pedals Not the most fuel efficient people hauler First class price THE LOWDOWN Forget executive sedans. The Previa redefines true luxury.

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