1996 Daihatsu Midget II Review: The Antithesis of the American Pickup

The general public doesn’t really care about cars. It’ll perk up if something unusual comes along, though. A rat rod, a DMC DeLorean, a Lamborghini Aventador. All things it understands, and can identify with reasonable Is that a Ferrari? accuracy. A straight-piped dekotora 1997 Daihatsu Midget II, however, is not something the public understands. Americans have no reference point for what it is; they turn their heads and stare, mouths sometimes agape, their expression obvious: “What the hell is that?”

What indeed has a more complicated answer than you might expect. Any truck this… extra has to have an interesting story behind it, and the Midget II does. It’s a callback to one of the trucks that made Daihatsu what it is but also an attempt to make the smallest four-wheeled, highway-legal truck possible. It’s kinda like if the Chevy SSR was a kei truck.

[Editor's Note: JDM Week at The Drive is brought to you by Duncan Imports, one of America's largest importers and resellers of Japanese domestic market vehicles. Big thanks to owner Gary Duncan for opening up his private collection and allowing us to take a few for a spin. If your interest is piqued, you can see the company's full inventory here.]

But removed from the context of 20th-century Japan, it’s unrecognizable as any of those things. All we Americans see is a pickup truck so comically small we could literally park it in the beds of what some gatekeepers consider a “real truck” these days. It’s as much a pickup as it is an anti-pickup—at least, as we define them in the United States in 2023.

In fact, the Daihatsu Midget II is almost diametrically opposed to the American pickup paradigm, and driving one will show you just how grotesque our trucks have become. Kicking and screaming the whole way up to 60 mph, the Midget II isn’t just a slow-motion joyride that’s almost as exciting as it is unnerving. It’s an inflection point that makes you realize it’s time American trucks should scare their own drivers too.

Just A Little Guy

Explaining what the Daihatsu Midget II is starts by counting backward, to the original Midget. It was essentially a motorized rickshaw, the cheapest self-propelled vehicles that didn't need a kickstand. They arose in Japan in 1931, quickly spread across Southeast Asia and Europe, and remain popular to this day in poorer countries around the globe. Daihatsu didn’t introduce the Midget until 1957, well into Japan’s postwar reconstruction, but its popularity kept it in production ‘til 1972, with the aid of updates and multiple body styles. (Westerners may recognize it from My Neighbor Totoro.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2IwlaaacrOk\u0026list=PLYYQ_SeN27Q8q2gP-ILAUUcy-WHC-1evJ

Meanwhile, the Midget II is more complicated, both in terms of mechanicals and its place in the world. It takes the original concept, adds a fourth wheel, and rudimentary suspension—MacPherson struts up front, a leaf-sprung solid axle out back. Its engine swelled to 659 cc (as big as kei car engines get), becoming a three-cylinder four-stroke, though it’s still carbureted. It sputters out 31 horsepower and 37 lb-ft of torque for the rear axle, connected by either a four-speed manual or three-speed automatic transmission. The latter switches to a column shifter, freeing up space for a passenger that you’d better be comfortable cuddling.

It weighs only 1,213 pounds though, which allows it to get nearly 60 mpg at 35 mph. It can tote around a payload of 331 pounds too, and its size means there’s no street it can’t drive down—ideal if you run an alleyway bar. Its brakes are drums all around, and a booster wasn’t included at launch. Brake fluid is added through a filler in the dashboard, and there’s no temperature gauge or tachometer. Just a fuel gauge and a 120-km/h speedometer, when most kei cars show 140 (or about 85 mph).

You still get air conditioning and a stereo though; it’s more like a modern car than it is the barebones utility vehicle the original Midget was: It started at the modern equivalent of $3,650. That’s considerably cheaper than name-brand UTVs, and you don’t typically get doors or license plates with those.

The Midget II I drove however wasn’t stock Daihatsu. It’s heavily modified in a fashion I can’t pin down; there are touches of bosozoku with its straight-piped, heart-tipped exhaust, but a body that’s between shakotan and kyusha. It’s also a string of Christmas lights away from being dekotora. I speak beyond my level of knowledge here, as I don’t truly know what to call or make of its body kit, aftermarket wheels with stationary hubs, and fringed window sills. Nor did the public in suburban Virginia where I drove it.

Climbing into the Midget II is easy. Its upright cab allows you to slide onto a seat that amounts to a padded toilet seat lid over the engine. The cabin is so narrow that I could lower both manual windows and adjust both mirrors from the driver’s seat. Its deceptively high seating position and near-vertical hood gives excellent visibility, minus rearward, as your own head blocks much of the rear windows.