Tips And Works

Okay, what's this about a shorter name? And who the hell is this Evangeline?

Listen up. GMC, which dates to 1909, was formerly GMC Truck - appropriate, since that's what this General Motors division made: trucks and buses. The story goes back even farther, to the Rapid Motor Vehicle Company, one of America's first commercial-vehicle concerns, established in 1901 by Max Grabowsky and sold to GM in 1909. So if you sort of forgot about GMC's dropping the Truck part on becoming part of the Greater Pontiac Co-Prosperity Sphere in 1996, don't worry. We did, too.

In any case, the change was fortuitous, because the Acadia is not a truck. Not in the traditional body-on-frame truck sense. It looks sorta like a truck, and the EPA calls it a truck, but the bones are front-drive unibody. They call it the Lambda architecture, designed for GM's big new front-drive utility vehicles. The result is one of those new-breed rides we call crossovers - neither car nor truck, and a first for GMC.

And what does Evangeline have to do with this? American lit majors may recall Evangeline Bellefontaine as the sad heroine of the 1847 epic poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, a lost-love story about the 1755 expulsion of the French-speaking population of Acadia (now known as Nova Scotia) during the French and Indian wars.

Separated from her boyfriend, Gabriel Lajeunesse, when the Redcoats herded the Acadians onto transports, Evangeline wound up in Louisiana and spent the rest of her life trying to reconnect with Gabriel. And even though she was a fictional figure, she has come to be regarded as the original queen of the Cajuns. (Acadians.Cajuns. Get it?)

Folklore aside, why do we think Evangeline would favor this ride if she were around today? Easy. Instead of pining, she would have Googled up Gabriel, they would have reconnected, and a batch of soccer-playing Cajun kids would have ensued. Being entirely too cool to be seen in something as mundane as a minivan, Evangeline would have opted for something like this.

That's the essence of this new GM line, which includes the Saturn Outlook, with the Buick Enclave due next fall. Although these new vehicles lack sliding doors and have more ground clearance, they serve essentially the same function as minivans. They have to serve that function, because GM, like Ford, is giving up on minivans. So you can forget about the Buick Terraza, Chevy Uplander, and Saturn Relay. Which should be pretty easy.

Okay, minivan usefulness, truckish macho, what else? Let's start with a size perspective. At 201.1 inches long, the Acadia is within an inch of the Yukon, GMC's traditional full-size ute. It's not as tall (72.7 inches versus 76.9), but the two vehicles are essentially identical in width (78.9 versus 79.0). The Acadia's 118.9-inch wheelbase is 2.9 inches longer than the Yukon's, a plus for ride quality, as well as an opportunity for the design team to maximize interior space for people, cargo, or both. The ability to ingest mass quantities is an Acadia strong suit. With both rows of rear seats folded flat, the capacity is 117 cubic feet, compared with 109 for the larger Yukon.

To be fair, most minivans have more cargo capacity than this, but they don't have the Acadia's ground clearance (7.4 inches) or towing capacity: with the Trail­er­ing package (primarily a bigger radiator) it's rated to drag a trailer weighing up to 4500 pounds. Body-on-frame SUVs have a clear advantage in this area - half-ton Yukon trailering limits range between 7500 and 8200 pounds, but 4500 is pretty good for a unibodied vehicle that's primarily a front-driver. The basic trailering capability for the Honda Pilot, for example, is 3500 pounds.

Why draw comparisons with the Pilot? Because the Pilot was the key benchmark for GM's new Lambda utes. That's interesting, because even though the Pilot is a three-row vehicle, it's smaller than the Acadia in every dimension, as well as at the scales. The last Pilot we tested ["Battle of the Neither-Nors," C/D, April 2003] weighed 4341 pounds. Our all-wheel-drive Acadia scaled in at a hefty 5052. Then again, that's 788 fewer pounds than the Yukon-clone Chevy Tahoe we tested in February.

Interpreting from the finished product, the Acadia design charter seems to have been to duplicate the Pilot's excellent ergonomics, build quality, and nimble (by SUV standards) dynamics on a larger scale. We have to say mission accomplished. The Acadia's responses are, inevitably, tempered by its mass, but those responses measure up as exceptional among vehicles in this size class.

The Acadia's suspension employs coil-over struts up front, a new multilink arrangement at the rear with ball-jointed lateral links, and hefty anti-roll bars at both ends. The bars help keep cornering attitudes remarkably level, allowing the chassis guys to keep the spring and damping rates supple. Steering response, via a hydraulic variable-assist rack-and-pinion system, enhances the surprising sense of agility - it's accurate, informative, and beautifully weighted,

Braking is just this side of phenomenal - 167 feet from 70 mph. We're talking about arresting 2.5 tons on 255/60-19 Goodyear Eagle RS-A mud-and-snow tires. For contrast, the last BMW X5 we tested [C/D, November 2004] required 168 feet for its 70-mph stop. The last Porsche Cayenne [C/D, January 2005]: 175 feet. The Honda Pilot, now celebrating its sixth C/D 5Best Trucks award: 195 feet. The latest Tahoe: 201 feet, two-thirds of a football field.

So, first-rate for stops. But when it comes to go, the dynamics are a bit ordinary. GM's DOHC 3.6-liter 24-valve V-6, tuned for 275 horsepower and 251 pound-feet of torque, provides propulsion via GM's new six-speed automatic. In our all-wheel-drive tester, most of this power (90 percent) goes to the front wheels most of the time. When system sensors anticipate wheelspin up front, a clutch pack apportions additional power to the rear wheels, up to 40 percent. The system also uses brake intervention to handle side-to-side adhesion differences.

From a standing start, the Acadia takes 8.1 seconds to hit 60 mph and 16.4 seconds at 85 mph in the quarter-mile. That's a half-second slower than the Pilot in both categories, although a bit quicker than the Tahoe. Accelerating from 50 to 70 mph consumes 6.0 seconds, 0.7 second slower than either the Tahoe or Pilot. The new six-speed auto is a smoothie, and it makes the most of the engine's output, but the Acadia isn't going to pin anyone against the seatbacks.

On the other hand, it will be a little more lovable than a Yukon at the gas pump: The EPA projects 17 mpg city and 24 highway with all-wheel drive. We recorded 17 during our test, 5 mpg better than the Tahoe. And we were impressed with the low interior noise levels - just 67 dBA at cruising speeds.

In the realm of everyday family usefulness and livability, the Acadia is going to be a very pleasant traveling companion. The second and third rows provide adult roominess, and the second row provides fore-and-aft adjustability as well as reclining seatbacks. They can also be folded up against the front seatbacks, in addition to flat.

As you'd expect, there are the usual family-peacekeeping options - a DVD player for those seated in the rear, ample audio with jacks for auxiliary equipment, dual climate controls, plus a nav system and OnStar hardware. Safety features are similarly comprehensive: standard ABS; standard StabiliTrak; and multiple airbags, including seat-mounted sides up front and curtain bags protecting all three rows.

The only real demerit from a driver's perspective is the view to the rear. Forward sightlines are excellent, thanks to a relatively low cowl and sloping hood, but it's another story when you're backing up. The backlight is high, making it hard to see much in the immediate rear. GMC offers a rearview-camera option for the Acadia. It wasn't part of our otherwise loaded test vehicle, and we recommend it for illuminating those backup blind spots. It's also great for centering on a trailer hitch.

But watch it when you're checking those option boxes. Although the front-drive Acadia starts at a reasonable $29,990, extras add up quickly. Our tester tallied in at $44,965, which begins to seem pretty pricey. That said, we think GMC's first not-quite-a-truck is going to be a winner. And we think Miss Acadia of 1755 would approve.

COUNTERPOINT

MIKE DUSHANE
The idea of a massive crossover with a V-6 didn't get my pulse racing. But once I got over the sluggish and noisy acceleration, I was impressed by the Acadia's agility and huge, attractive cabin (tacky plastic chrome excepted). Where else could I find this much space without boat-like handling? In a minivan, of course, but I'm far too insecure with my masculinity to drive one. The Acadia defines a segment that's capacious, cool, and reasonably fun to drive.

DAVE VANDERWERP
Here's another example of what GM is capable of when it invests real money on a new vehicle. The Acadia's striking exterior, excellent steering and brake feel, and near-minivan levels of passenger space are all superior to the similarly sized Tahoe/Yukon, even if the interiors are similar: handsome but hard to the touch. Downsides include a coarser-than-expected six-speed automatic and a lack of grunt off the line. That said, this is by far GM's best-ever people hauler.