Yahoo Autos Three-Row Crossovers Are a Game of Masquerade that Carmakers Feel Compelled to Play
Once, many years ago, I requested of a hairstylist that she make my hair look like Kevin Bacon's in the then-popular movie Footloose. This would have been the first time I went to a salon instead of Guy's Barber Shop, the hyper-regular, no-appointment-necessary, four-chair joint where all my previous trims had taken place. To satisfy '80s regulations, on the salon's windowless cinder-block wall, the proprietors had painted a Patrick Nagel–like mural of the face of a starkly white woman with absurdly red lips. I considered backing out. But this was important. This was to be the start of a whole new me, one that would make the other kids forget that I once wore homemade plaid pants. That little elementary-school kid had a conventionally parted and combed hairstyle. In its studied dishevelment, this new Bacon hair would make clear that the middle-school version of me had a roguish, devil-may-care attitude. Maybe I was slightly dangerous, a champion for fun and freedom in a world full of stodgy, repressive adults. Possibly I would engage in a game of tractor chicken. I mean, the kids gotta cut loose.
This ruse lasted for all of about a week before I was forced to admit to myself that I now merely looked sillier than I had before. The amount of time it took me every morning to fail at replicating what the hairstylist had done was more than I was prepared to invest. The other kids just thought I'd lost my hairbrush. I did not, as my friend Darryl did, always have a comb peeking out of my back pocket. Darryl was so committed to the proper feathering of his hair that in the summer when wearing shorts with no pockets, he would tuck his comb into his right knee sock.
The point is, I feel you, Honda. I know what you're going through. You're going to be fine. People like you. And, okay, I'm sorry. I didn't really mean to ridicule the Pilot for looking too much like a minivan. Well, I did, but I didn't think you'd be so down about it. It's just that, well, this current generation, introduced for 2016, looks kinda like a minivan. You know, like the Odyssey, the minivan on which every generation of the Pilot has been based. But, like, everyone else was saying it, too, man.
How do I know it stung Honda? Well, first, because the whole point of the three-row family vehicle that's not a minivan is that it's not a minivan, even when it shares a minivan's underpinnings. Three-row crossovers are a game of masquerade, one that many full-line carmakers feel compelled to play. The only truly unforgivable thing is to pull off someone's sparkly mask and reveal the practical, dowdy person underneath. It's silly, of course. We should all be so honest with ourselves as to acknowledge our minivan nature. But for many, that's like trying on a shirt, asking your wife whether it makes you look fat, and then only buying it if she says, "Oh, hell yeah, it does," followed by pig snorts.
The second reason I know the minivan criticism stung was that when it came time for the Pilot's mid-cycle refresh, for the 2019 model, much of the focus was on making the exterior look more rugged, "Ready for Family Adventure." The Odyssey is apparently ready only for family languor. The company is stuck with the Pilot's big, soft body until a full redesign in a few years. But it could replace the laid-back front grille with a piece that the company believes looks tougher. Portions of the front and rear bumper covers are now painted a silvery color to suggest the Pilot has skid plates. Ridiculous, sure. But is it more ridiculous than family sedans wearing rear bumper covers molded to look like aerodynamic diffusers? And if the restyle is unconvincing, at least it doesn't need to be redone each morning.
The third indication that Honda was sore about the minivan comparison was when a company representative said to me, "That minivan thing really kinda stung."
But we realize what thin ice we're currently stomping across in ridiculing the company for trying to make its SUV look tougher after ridiculing it for making it look too soft. And the buying public, the opinions of whom are most important to Honda, seems okay with the Pilot. The current model has, on average, sold better than the Pilot that it replaced, never dipping below 120,000 units for a calendar year. And its immediate predecessor, on sale model years 2009 through 2015, was as boxy and upright and SUV-like as a Pilot has ever been. It was also, on average, the worst-selling of the three generations. Okay, maybe that had something to do with the front grille that has been likened to a USB port. But still.
Maybe-now, just hear me out on this one-maybe shoppers looked past the second gen's boxy visage and noticed that it was slower and less powerful than its competitors and that its interior was a cheap plastic box filled with engine and road noise. Maybe, in other words, the group mind is less shallow than mine or Honda's. Or than that of any rotten individual who might ridicule a promising young man wearing tragic pants.
By the way, have you seen that Subaru Ascent? It looks like a station wagon!
From the November 2018 issue
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