There has been some concern that Edmund's editors are more critical of American cars and trucks than import vehicles. We've received hate mail from users that call us unpatriotic, and we've been flamed by emails that would make Joe McCarthy blush. These accusations aren't new to us, nor are they new to anyone who writes about cars. For some reason, (and if you know what it is, please tell us) cars made by American manufacturers are often not assembled as well as those made by foreign corporations. The nationality of the workers doesn't seem to matter much; Americans in Ohio make the Honda Accord which is one of the most reliable vehicles on the road, while Germans assemble the Cadillac Catera in Europe, and it remains one of the least reliable cars on the road.
While Toyota and Honda may build more reliable cars than GM and Ford on a regular basis, it doesn't mean that we treat foreign manufacturers with kid gloves when they mess up. Take our Isuzu Rodeo long-term test vehicle. Many drivers of this truck have a horror story to relate, and some of our editors have actually been endangered by this vehicle's Old Faithful-like breakdown history. Last month, senior automotive editor Greg Anderson took the Rodeo on a trip from Denver to New York. The following are his comments from the trip.
Day One:
After six minutes behind the wheel, the first person flashed their brights at me. This would continue, in approximately 10-minute increments, every time I drove at night. Apparently, the Rodeo's lights are aimed too high and everyone assumes I'm driving like a jerk. When I flash my BRIGHT brights on them, they are probably stunned.
One-and-a-half hours into the drive, a horrible gut-wrenching NNNGGNNNNGGNGNGN noise -- not unlike the scene in "Men in Black" when Will Smith drags that metal table across the floor -- intrudes upon the cabin. I am scared wide-awake, and it takes me approximately one hour to locate the source of the noise. The noise was so loud that it was difficult to trace, and I was sure that the roof was being somehow torn from the Rodeo. However, it was the sunroof. At speeds over 75 mph, the sunroof would scream bloody murder, and the only way to eliminate the grating sound was to open the sunroof while on the highway. Therefore, for the remainder of the drive, an entire 30 hours, I had to drive with the sunroof open.
Other than that, the Rodeo seemed barely livable. I hated the driving position, and in fact, the time I drove a Miata from Seattle to Denver was more comfortable. The instrument panel chirped the entire drive, and I found that if I pushed on the black plastic IP face just in front of the steering wheel, the chirping would stop. But that made it REALLY uncomfortable to drive, so I dealt with the chirping dash and the wailing wind of the open sunroof (which was much less scary than the NNNGGGHNNGH noise).
Day Two:
I began appreciating the Rodeo's engine, which gathered strength with the lowering elevation. Otherwise, the day was uneventful and thankfully sunny, as I had to keep the sunroof open.
Day Three:
The CD player came in handy. I bought some books-on-CD; a John Grisham novel called "The Partner" was one of them, and that kept me occupied until the eastern part of Ohio. I had just driven through Canton, home of the NFL Hall of Fame, and was on my way north to Akron when the Rodeo decided to purge itself of coolant. It was 11:00 PM local time, and I was in the middle of listening to "The Partner" when I heard a tapping noise from the engine. Within five seconds, the temperature reading pegged the red and steam and liquid came pouring out from the right front of the hood. I stopped immediately and called the cops. The cops came out and called a tow truck. The overflow cap was off (that was the tapping noise I heard), and the coolant was on the ground instead of where it should have been. This forced me to stay in Canton for the night. The next day the dealership picked me up and gave me the car back by noon. There was no service charge, and they'd worry about the $75 towing fee.
Day Four:
When crossing Pennsylvania, I came to a construction zone that used not orange rubber cones, but orange and white flat slabs of metal. Many of these slabs were knocked over, making me wonder what that would do to a car. Thirty minutes later, in another construction area, I found out when the F-250 in front of me swerved to the right, and I found myself headed straight for one of these metal sheets that was about a foot into my lane. WHAM. Bug guard was broken, left side turn lens was broken, and orange paint now decorated the Rodeo's bumper. A close-by officer of the law told me that since there was no damage to any other vehicles, this was not reportable and to move on. Then he asked me if I had been drinking, and I said, "No, but whoever placed that marker in my lane probably had!"
Summary:
My four days in the Rodeo really sucked, and I don't care to ever drive that vehicle again. It was uncomfortable as hell to drive or sleep in, it was scary because of a freaky moonroof and poorly designed coolant overflow cap (which should be a screw-on instead of a snap-on), and it felt a lot cheaper than its $30,000 price tag. For that dough, give me a Chrysler 300M to drive across country.
Best Fuel Economy: 20.4 mpg
Worst Fuel Economy: 15.9 mpg
Maintenance Costs: $0
Problems: Screeching moonroof, poorly fitting coolant overflow cap, broken bug guard, smashed left front turn indicator, and damaged bumper.
