2012 Nissan Quest Long Term Test: What's It Like to Live With?
Read the latest updates in our long-term road test of the 2012 Nissan Quest as our editors live with this car for a year.
What do you want to know about?
- Introduction
- Oregon Bound
- Oregon Day 1 — Mt. Shasta
- Oregon Day #2 — Welcome to Bend
- Oregon Day 3 — Bend to Brookings
- Oregon Day 4 - Crab Run
- Return Trip From Oregon
- Test Gear Duty
- Hello, I'll Be Your Changing Table Today
- Perfect Vehicle for My Family
- In the Weeds
- Separated at Birth
- Power Third Row
- Stinky Feet
- It's Grand
- Then I Let the Alpine Play
- It's Like an Infiniti in Here
- Appropriate Powertrain
- "Clean" or "Quick Clean?"
- Exhaust Gas Detection Sensor
- Too. Many. Jokes.
- First Tier
- About That High Load Floor
- Average Headlights
- Floppy Bin Doors
- Hauling Long Items
- Comments On Bluetooth Audio
- Make It a Double
- Small Power Door Buttons
- 5,000 Miles
- My Second Favorite Thing
- I Thought It Was Made in Japan?
- 10 Ways Its Better than a CLS63
- Taxi Duty. For Real
- Interior Tour
- Cars That Age Gracefully?
- Thoughts From The Freeway
- Talking to Myself
- Rare In Its Natural Habitat
- Touch-Free Loading
- The Quest's Well
- Favorite Minivan To Drive Everyday
- Pushing Its Buttons
- Pretty Girl Repellent
- Rear Entertainment Review
- Low-Roller Weekend
- Underestimated Fuel Economy
- Preparing for Cookie Pick Up
- Cookie Express
- Recalled for Stalling Risk
- Not the Miniest Minivan
- Weekly Fuel Cost
- A/C Needs a Boost
- Supple
- Conversations With The Cuz
- For Us Simple Folk
- The Styling Is Growing On Me
- Nearly Grounded
- Excellent Long-Haul Seats
- Man Van Motivation
- Why Minivans are Better Than SUVs
- Could Be My Minivan
- Exhaust Gas Detection Actually Works
- Rock + Windshield = Bad News
- Cool Drawer
- Power Liftgate Video
- 7,500-mile Service
- Full House
- 600-Mile Road Trip
- The Big 10,000-Mile Mark
- Dog Report
- Recall Service Performed
- 600-Mile Road Trip, Pt. 2
- 600-Mile Road Trip, Pt. 3
- Power Sliding Door Video
- The E.T. Highway
- Street Legal in Arizona
- Height-Adjustable Headlights
- Spare Tire
- Getting Dirty in Tonopah
- Monticello vs. Social Responsibility
- Remote Control Range
- This Old Pump
- Everything You Need To Know
- Road Trip Fuel Economy Report
- Track Tested
- What's The Speed Limit?
- Steering Feel?
- 2012 Nissan Quest Starspeeder 3000 Edition
- Beats Its Rivals on Road Trips
- Almost Everything I Need to Know
- Front Seatbelt Fit
- Small Request
- Will I Fit?
- Driver Seat Showing Wear, But Likely Normal
- Showing Off At Preschool
- 15,000 Miles So Far
- Compared To A 2004 Quest
- Proportional Turn Signals
- Using the Outlet
- Will Six Bikes Fit?
- Trona
- Pulling A "Jacquot"
- Kurt and the Unicorn
- Rant For The Day
- That's Not Very Big
- 15,000-mile Service
- Manageable
- Minivan or Infiniti JX to the Grand Canyon?
- The Rug Fit
- Voyager 1, Quest Rear-View Mirror Near Interstellar Space
- Good Navigation Accuracy
- Good Mix of Functionality
- Hooked on Metrics
- Road Trip Ahead
- Road Trip Notes
- Road Trip Notes #2
- A Look Underneath
- Road Trip Notes #3
- O/D Off
- Rant Of The Day
- That's Hot
- Tale of the Tape
- PlasmaVan
- Racking Up the Miles
- Well Used @ 21K-plus Miles
- I Like It Best
- Price Drop for 2013
- Easy-Fill Tire Alert System in Action (with Video!)
- Here's What Isn't So Easy
- Confronting Phobias
- Voice Control Saves the Day
- Girl Scout Camporee
- Seats by Volvo?
- Name That Bluetooth Connection
- Oil And Filter Change Warning
- Express? That's Not Express
- Moving More Jeep Tires and Wheels
- Little Brother, Big Brother
- Camping Weekend
- 22,500-Mile Service Complete
- Regular Service
- Dealbreaker?
- She's Like Siri, Without the Creepy Auto Tune
- VQ35 Fuel Curiosity
- Hauls (The World's Toughest) Stroller
- 25,000 Milestone
- Final Days, Last Errands
- Interior Glare
- Wrap-Up
Introduction
Second place is a tough pill to swallow; it's a superior performance, but it's not superlative. It's the first loser, as some say, and the Nissan Quest knows the feeling all too well.
In our 2011 Minivan Comparison Test, the Nissan Quest tied for 2nd place against such big-name minivan competitors as the Chrysler Town and Country, Dodge Grand Caravan, Honda Odyssey and Toyota Sienna SE. The Quest's solid drivetrain, competent ride and plush interior made it a crowd favorite during the testing. Unfortunately, a high (but flat) load floor, smallish cargo space and seating for only seven kicked the Quest off its perch and vaulted the sporty Toyota Sienna into the top spot.
The winner in that test has already spent a year in our long-term test fleet and the other 2nd-place finisher, the Honda Odyssey, is closing in on a year here, too. Now it's the Quest's turn to rack up the miles.
Twelve months and 20,000 miles with a 2012 Nissan Quest 3.5 LE starts today.
What We Got
There are four trim levels for the 2012 Nissan Quest, and one powertrain option: a 3.5-liter V6 cranking out 260 horsepower and 240 pound-feet of torque connected to a continuously variable transmission (CVT).
The base S model comes with 16-inch steel wheels, cruise, tilt-and-telescoping wheel and even keyless entry. This model starts at $27,750. Jump up from there and you wind up in an SV, which gets alloy wheels, foglights, power-sliding doors, leather steering wheel, rearview camera, front-seat center console, Bluetooth and an audio system with a 4-inch color display and a USB/iPod interface. That one's only $31,050. The SL sweetens the pot with 18s, automatic headlights, leather, heated front seats and one-touch fold-flat third-row seats for $34,500.
The top dog of the Quest crew is the LE and it's the one we got. It takes everything above and adds xenon headlights, a blind-spot warning system, driver memory, four-way power front passenger seat, power-return third-row seats, navigation, rear entertainment with an 11-inch screen, 13-speaker Bose stereo and an 8-inch display. This one retails for $41,350.
But we didn't stop there. We added a $1,350 dual-opening glass moonroof, $205 carpeted floor mats for all rows and $350 roof rails. If the Quest is ever going to have a chance of outshining its rivals, a loaded LE is its best chance. The sticker price totaled $44,065 but Nissan provided the vehicle so there was no haggling on the price.
Why We Got It
Pretty simple, really: This is a van on the verge of being a segment leader. During the big minivan face-off, the Quest impressed us with its superb ride/handling balance, intuitive cabin, spooky-quiet highway ride and a "sweetheart of a drivetrain."
It looks a little funny and it doesn't haul as many people or as much stuff as the other vans in this segment, though, so we're curious whether such drawbacks amount to much after a year behind the wheel.
Our long-term test of the 2012 Nissan Quest LE overlaps with the end of our 2011 Toyota Sienna and 2011 Honda Odyssey tests so for now, it's a repeat of the last showdown. Can the Quest win us over this time? How about 12 months from now? Follow along on our Long-Term Road Test Blog for updates.
Current Odometer: 835
Best Fuel Economy: 19.7
Worst Fuel Economy: 18.1
Average Fuel Economy (over the life of the vehicle): 18.8
The manufacturer provided Edmunds this vehicle for the purposes of evaluation.
It's that time of year again. Time to pick a vehicle to head north to Oregon for the holidays. The recent arrival of our new 2012 Nissan Quest LE made the choice easy.
How well does it go down the road? Will the seats be comfy over the long haul? And what about the Quest's atypical (for a minivan) seat folding strategy?
In loading our stuff, I've already begun to form an opinion on that last point. The second and third rows fold forward, on top of themselves, which eliminates the "where to store them?" question for the second row while creating a level floor. Thing is, that floor is higher than other minivans by the approximate thickness of those folded seats.
My daughters are of course sitting in the second row seats on this trip, so this middle row strategy doesn't help me any, as the Quest's higher load floor extends all the way to the back, where the highish liftover comes across a bit like a crossover. That said, the tall, boxy Quest has plenty of usable space in the cargo area (and in a hidden underfloor compartment) for what we're carrying this time out.
TIme to close the hatch and hit the road. Should be interesting.
Day one of our Oregon holiday trip saw the 2012 Nissan Quest make it 650 miles up the road to Mt. Shasta, California. The night chill certainly makes it feel like December up here, but the weak coating of snow on this southernmost member of the Cascade range looks more like late spring.
Nearly all of the trip took place on the I-5 freeway, save for a self-imposed 100-mile detour we took onto the northern stretch of highway 99 to avoid construction delays on the interstate. Strong head- and crosswinds belted us wherever we went all day, but the Nissan Quest didn't seem to notice and tracked straight and true.
In fact the Quest's steering is emerging as a strong suit. It's nicely weighted, precise (but not to a nervous and over-sensitive degree) and the on-center position is well-defined. And the steering wheel rim has a nice heft to it. All day I was reminded of the Infiniti QX-56, a big SUV I enjoyed far more than I expected on the way to Mammoth a couple summers ago.
The Quest's CVT transmission was impressive, too, despite two large grades to climb and numerous semis to pass. More than any other company, Nissan has CVT software figured out. There's just enough rev change in normal driving to make it seem like a regular transmission; it never ever gives off that drony rubber band feeling common to many other CVTs.
Yet there's no busy shifting when climbing slopes, no harsh double downshifts when pulling out to pass. On downgrades there's an "O/D off" button that changes the ratio operating range to provide extra engine braking.
This CVT is remarkable in that it doesn't seem like a CVT unitl it needs to behave like one, at which point it goes ahead and does what it needs to do in such a seamless way that you don't realize it's doing it.
This day was never going to generate stellar fuel economy numbers, what with a persistent 25 mph headwind all day, a full load of people and stuff, and a green engine that started the trip with barely over 1,000 miles on the clock. Not surprisingly, our two tank average of 18.6 mpg barely touches the Quest's EPA city rating of 19 mpg, I expect better as the trip progresses and the winds die off.
We have arrived in Bend, Oregon, the first of two holiday stops on this trip. The 2012 Nissan Quest cruised uneventfully up Oregon's highway 97, deposting us at our destination with nary a sore butt or wrenched back.
This is far from the usual result. My wife and I almost never find the same seats comfortable, but that's the case here. They're supportive, well-bolstered and are just soft enough. Each has its own adjustable inside armrests and the front pair are toasted by excellent two-stage seat heaters.
Before we hit the road for this last leg, however, we made a brief stop to pick up a little something for our hosts.
Weed, California is host to the Shasta Brewery, where we picked up a couple six-packs of Shastafarian Porter and other legal Weed concoctions. You can't show up at someone's house empty handed, right?
Being slightly slower than the interstate, the day's 2-lane highway route was a bit kinder to fuel economy and the 2012 Quest managed 22.7 mpg. The next tank is sure to drop off a bit as we spend the next couple of days shuttling up to the main lodge at Mt. Bachelor for a bit of snow play.
Yeah, we've been out and about in our 2012 Nissan Quest for more than three days, but the last couple don't count because we sat planted in one place, exchanging gifts and stuffing our faces. That we were doing so in Bend, Oregon was a huge plus.
Today we got back on the road and headed for Christmas II at my folks place on the Oregon coast just north of Brookings near a place called Pistol River.
Between here and there sits Crater Lake National Park, but with no time to stop we skirted along its northern flank on our way over the Cascade range. The steady climb up highway 138 started out dry enough, but it quickly turned to slush, patchy ice and, near the 5,400-foot summit, snow. That we got through without a cracked windshield from scattered patches of pumice laid down by ODOT snowplows was something of a minor miracle.
This was by no means a severe test, and there was certainly less snow than we found the last time we came through in our long-term Ford Flex. But the front-drive Quest and its all-season tires did manage to make the Bend-area locals and their studded tires look a little silly. (Actually, long-time Bend natives scoff at the studded rubber, too, attributing their popularity to Southern California transplants that have never heard of Blizzaks, apparently.)
The only trouble we had was minor. The Quest's navigation system insisted on a route from Crater Lake that's about 30 miles longer than the road I know to be straighter and faster. The Google Maps app on my iPhone was in my corner. The Quest was not set to look for scenic routes — it simply made the wrong call.
No big deal, but it doesn't do my mistrust of navigation systems any favors.
Mileage-wise, this was a decent day despite questionable conditions. The Quest managed 23.6 mpg over 276 miles on 87-octane gas that, according to the locals, contains a full 10% ethanol. Rounding up, that matches the Quest's EPA highway rating of 24 mpg. It seems to be breaking in nicely.
One of our family traditions is a big year-end crab feed. Equipped with an ice chest, mom and I loaded ourselves into the 2012 Nissan Quest LE and set off downhill to the fish market in nearby Gold Beach to pick up some fresh Dungeness crab.
The Quest makes the trip down the narrow and twisting Carpenterville Road a piece of cake, thanks to ample suspension travel to soak up the slumping asphalt. The ride is admirably smooth and comfortable thanks to springs and dampers that are neither too firm nor too soft.
But none of this means the Quest handles like a soggy fish. All the while it carves through the numerous tight corners with reassuring accuracy, if not speed — this is, after all, a minivan, not a 370Z.. The direct and well-weighted steering that felt good on the open road on the trip up from California proves to be just as well suited to this sort of terrain.
And the CVT transmission remains impressive over the rollercoaster of tight corners, short uphill bursts and longer grades. The very seamlessness of the thing only adds to the impression that the Quest is effortlessly gliding along.
The only thing this CVT seems to lack is something akin to a first gear hold for the ultra-steep twisting downhill that is my parents half-mile driveway; the provided "O/D off" and "L" settings don't cut it, leaving me no choice but to ride the brakes instead.
With non-removable middle row seats that fold flat, and third row seats that fold forward to meet them at the same level, this shelf represents the overall load floor height in the Nissan Quest. Mom's crab chest fits, but the space available here feels more crossover than minivan. There is a well beneath this level, but in our Quest LE it's no more than 10 inches deep.
This is nothing like the usual minivans that have third row seats that fold back on themselves into a low well with removable middle seats and a low load floor ahead. The Nissan Quest can't touch the low liftover of something like this 2008 Honda minivan, which has tons of deep well space...
Nissan does this in order to make second row removal unnecessary (and, by design, impossible), but I don't think that's a worthwhile tradeoff. My family of four has previously been able to pack all of our luggage for a week-long summer Oregon trip in the space shown above. That's impossible in the Quest.
Meanwhile, 10 Dungeness crab + 12 people + 30 minutes = time for dessert.
The plan was simple. We'd set our alarms at 5:30, grab a quick breakfast, say our goodbyes and load ourselves into the 2012 Nissan Quest in time to hit the road before the sun came up at 6:30 am. With any luck we'd make it home the same day.
No one bothered to tell this tree — or the weather, for that matter, which had dumped eight inches of rain over the previous two days and made everything soggy.
We came upon the fallen tree while rounding one of Capenterville Road's signature pitch-dark corners, where homes are non existent and overhanging trees block the starlight. Good thing I wasn't hustling too fast. Good thing the Quest has bright high-beam headlights and steady brakes.
Lucky for us this 12-inch diameter tree had shattered on impact into 6- and 8-foot logs that my daughters and I could push, roll or otherwise drag off the side of the road. In ten minutes we were back on our way, fully awake.
Personally, I prefer to start my morning with a good strong cup of coffee.
We fueled up in Smith River, just this side of the California border where I could pump the gas myself — something I like to do when I'm trying to take fuel economy readings.
No trip to the California redwoods is complete without a stop at Trees of Mystery to pose with Paul Bunyan and his big blue ox, Babe.
I've seen auto-recirc systems before, but the one in the Nissan Quest works better than any I've seen. The sudsy car icon above actually represents unwanted odors outside the car that have tickled the Quest's olfactory sensors enough to engage recirc mode.
At various times during the trip it accurately sniffed out 18-wheelers and other poorly-tuned diesel contraptions on I-5, some dairy farms and those roadside cattle pens near Harris Ranch, a rusty old pickup we came up behind well before we could positively identify it as a pickup, and many others. Suffice it to say that my wife, who usually exhibits the same eagerness to stab the recirc button as she does the seat heaters, was perfectly happy to let the auto-recirc feature do its business.
As for the grapes, don't ask. Something about ions. On this point the manual reads like it was written by someone from Sedona. In any case the grape icon stayed on 100% of the time while the word "quick" came and went once in awhile. Whatever it's specific contribution, the Quest's interior environment stayed consistently pleasant for the duration.
The miles rolled on while we listened to a Terry Pratchett audiobook synched to my iPod through the Quest's excellent USB inteface. Along the way there were two more stops for gas, a couple of stretch breaks, a 2-hour visit with my wife's sister and, once we got within shouting distance of So-Cal, a dinner at In-n-Out.
In the end we made the trip home the same day with little more personal wear and tear than we started with thanks to comfy seats, a smooth and quiet ride and a willing engine and transmission. Of the three minivans in our fleet right now, this is my hands-down road-trip favorite.
But the Quest drank more than I thought it would along the way. It averaged 19.7 mpg over 2,296 miles, much of it highway. To my mind that compares poorly to the EPA rating of 19 City/24 Highway/21 Combined. This sort of trip should result in an average slightly north of EPA combined, I'd have thought.
We have a year to see if things improve on this front. And I'm not yet sure that I could live with the Quest's cargo and seat-folding strategy, either.
Our new Nissan Quest long-termer served as the Sherpa for our test gear yesterday. Not only did it swallow all our gear handily (no great shock, it is a minivan after all), but it's also an incredibly plush and comfy hauler.
Check out how easily we stacked the test gear:
Keen-eyed observers will note that there appears to be far less test gear here than usual.
Here's why: The Quest's voluminous underfloor storage compartment.
Dan Edmunds already mentioned the Quest's highish liftover/load floor, comparing it to that of a crossover. I agree. It's very crossover-like. I found this height to be particularly convenient this weekend when the cargo area became an impromptu changing table for my squirmy 16-month-old.
Cargo areas are often impromptu changing tables in my world, and the Quest's was pretty easy on my back (unlike other minivans), which is always appreciated. My personal car is a compact crossover, and it was pretty comparable to that experience.
It might be hard to tell from this photo and I didn't actually measure it, but I'm a long-torsoed 5-feet-8-inches tall, and the changing floor came up to about 6 inches below my hipline.
The above picture was taken by my wife (so blame her for the blur) just after my daughter blurted out, "This is the perfect vehicle for our family! I love it so much more than our CR-V!"
I do too because of the extra room and amenities, and even though I've admittedly (and foolishly) avoided the minivan stigma.
Now, with a teenager and a 10-year-old, I'm probably on the far end of the minivan demographic and doubt there's one in my future. But you never know. And the Quest and my daughter's assessment make a solid case for changing my mind.
For the record, the kids aren't just giddy from riding in the Quest. They were watching a DVD of Mel Brooks' Robin Hood: Men in Tights on the vehicle's 11-inch rear screen. This after I picked up a copy of Young Frankenstein at the supermarket for $4.99. I had to tell them to keep it down because they were laughing so loudly.
I noticed this happening a number of times during my time with our long-term Nissan Quest over the weekend. I park it on the street, open the front passenger door to get my stuff off the seat and take a shallow divot out of the parkway grass, or at least give the grass a nice, close shave.
Maybe the areas where I was parking just had extra-high curbs?
Every time I see our 2012 Nissan Quest I'm reminded of something completely unrelated. Or are they unrelated?
Our long-term 2012 Nissan Quest LE has 60/40 split power 3rd row seats. The Quest's system is a lot faster in both raising and lowering the 3rd row than on some competitors, even those with manual operation.
All versions of the Quest can quickly drop the 3rd row, but only the LE trim has one button press seat drop and power seat raise. Just press the switch in the cargo area and the seat drops instantly. You must press and hold the adjacent switch for the seat to power up. In the video on the jump, I briefly release the switch to show that the seat will stop raising when the switch is released.
One small hiccup...
One small hiccup in the Quest's system is that the 3rd row doesn't raise all the way up to a suitable seating position, even coming up short of vertical. You have to pull and hold the strap to release the seatback, then adjust to the correct position with your other hand. This isn't very convenient if your hands are full.
But the Quest's power system is way better than trying to read the tiny directions and trying to figure out which straps to pull on our long-term 2011 Toyota Sienna SE and 2011 Honda Odyssey Touring. On our Quest, you just push the buttons.
Of course, the Limited trim (only) on the Sienna offers power 3rd row seats, but even the top trim level of the Odyssey, the Touring Elite, does not offer this feature. Surprise.
(Our long-term 2011 Toyota Sienna SE with straps)
Following is an exact quote from a Nissan press release explaining the Nissan Quest's super fancy climate control system:
One of the most innovative and certain to be appreciated new technologies is the Quest LE's standard Advanced Climate Control System (ACCS) with Plasmacluster air purifier, Grape Polyphenol Filter and auto recirculation control. The system works three ways to help reduce allergens and unwanted odors within the Quest cabin. Its automatic intake control utilizes sensors to constantly monitor outside odors and automatically closes the intake port to prevent inflow of exhaust fumes or other unpleasant smells into the interior. It then restores fresh air flow automatically when the offensive odors have passed.
The ACCS also employs a Grape Polyphenol Filter to help reduce the number of harmful allergens in the interior air. Finally, an advanced Plasmacluster purifier, generates ions to "scrub" the interior air of unwanted odors — whether they come from outside or inside the vehicle.
All I know is that everytime I see the "grape" icon appear on the instrument cluster, I smell stinky feet. It's as if feet are being scrubbed instead of unwanted odors.
Anyone else smell the smell I smell?
I love this tall, slab-sided mutant freak. Pathetic, I know. Fawning over a minivan is like marveling at the tax code. But I thought it was the best of the bunch when Erin wrote her minivan comparo several months ago. I don't feel much different after driving our new long-termer for the first time. The V6 and CVT are a great match. Where the Odyssey's six-speed auto is indecisive and hesitant, the Quest is linear and almost seamless. The Sienna delivers its power in pretty authoritative fashion, but still not as fluidly as the Quest.
It feels like a proper big van.
Big, tall doors that slam shut with some wallop. Wide captain's chairs that could probably benefit from slightly more bolstering. Jumbo mirrors, and a rich feeling cabin with wood inlays and quality leather. Unfortunate color, though. We will absolutely destroy these tan seats and carpet with the kids, dogs, sand, dirt, bikes and lumber that will pass through in the course of 20,000 miles.
Look forward to getting this thing on a good road trip, and see if the fold-flat seating eats as much cargo volume as the specs say. See if it's a real deal breaker.
For the longest time, I never really got Nissan. When the cool kids started swapping SR20s into their 240's, I stayed in the Honda end zone, rallying around B18C's and then the K20. You were either a front- or rear-drive guy in those days. If you were into getting sideways, you weren't in a Honda. Fast-forward to the worlds of parenting and kid-crap hauling, and I'm now a Nissan homer all day.
With source, playback and preset controls framed by two knurled, faux-chrome knobs, illuminated by orange backlight, the audio unit in the Quest looks and feels like a proper old-school head unit. Like.
My colleague Mr. Frio was right (for once.) Our long-term 2012 Nissan Quest LE is grand. The interior is supremely luxurious for a van — it's like an Infiniti in there.
Check out the rich leather upholstry — with piping! Then there's the nice leather-wrapped steering wheel and quality wood (look) on the dash. Finally, there's that rotary knob/touch panel interface for the navi/radio. It looks and operates just like that on Infinitis.
But where our Quest differs from other Infinitis, in general, is in the ride. I've found the ride quality on our long-term M, FX, and some G-series that I've sampled to be too firm and uncomfortable. Not so on the Quest. Although I haven't driven it on the freeway for an extended time, the ride I've experienced is silky smooth — and like a Lexus — not an Infiniti.
Overall, the Quest is my favorite van, so far.
And like JLo and Pitbull, it's something else that Frio and I can agree on.
If you're a regular reader you've likely heard us rail against CVT transmissions. Their pitfalls include everything from slow responses to endless engine droning under accelereation to poor control interface. Most of us aren't huge fans.
That's not the case with the powertrain in the Quest. At least for me.
Here we've got an appropriate application for the CVT. And pairing it with a big, torquey V6 is the only way to make such a transmission good. Better, in fact, than its conventional torque-converter-equipped competition.
Step on the throttle in the Quest and it goes. Right now. No waiting, regardless of the situation. Rapid response isn't something I would ever have thought would be important in a minivan until I had it . And now I can fully appreciate a van that goes when asked. Hammer it from 60 mph to make a pass it acclerates. Immediately. Do the same in the Sienna or Odyssey and guess what happens first? The car slows down — yes, it decelerates — while the transmission finds the right gear, selects it (often with a huge surge to the powertrain and lots of noise) and then it begins to accelerate. Not so in the Quest.
Furthermore, because this Quest's VQ35 powerplant is actually powerful enough to push the van around at modest rpm, the engine drone is minimal and short lived.
I'm in.
That is the question, after all.
It's possible you're not familiar with the Quest's comprehensive filtration abilities. If that's the case, you should take a quick look at Kelly's blog which describes its features in rigorous detail. It also scoffs at Nissan's gratuitous press release on the subject, which is wholly deserving of the lampooning.
Last weekend I noticed the grape icon in the display cycling between "quick clean" and simply "clean." I figured I couldn't lose either way, but I dug out the manual anyway to investigate.
Turns out, this is flow related. The filter uses Plasmacluster ions (I know, I know) to reduce odors. And, yes, Plasmacluster is a nonsense trade name created by the Sharp corporation, which uses the technology in its home air purifiers.
It's this simple: "quick clean" appears when the air flow is high and "clean" appears when air flow is low. Hey Nissan, if you'd like people to understand the filtration intensity level indicated by the display without using the owner's manual, you should use words like "high" and 'low."
I'm just sayin'.
More riveting details on the Quest's filtration abilities later.
While I'm at it, I might as well point out that the Quest is also equipped with an exhaust gas detection sensor which can sniff out "industry odors such as pulp or chemicals, and exhaust gas such as gasoline or diesel," according to the owner's manual. When the system senses such stinks it automatically switches from outside air circulation to recirculation.
It works when the "Auto recirculation" button is pressed, the external temperature is above freezing and the air flow control is not in the defroster mode. I'm yet to see it in action for myself, but I've got a few ideas for its improvement which I'll share tomorrow morning.
I don't know how these things go in your household, but in mine we don't need technology like Nissan's Exhaust Gas Detection Sensor to know when the stuff is present and in need of filtration.
We've got two kids. I'm a Dad. Things happen.
And while I'm certain the company's Plasmacluster Ion Control Stink Annhilator will easily ward off such indelicacies, it occurred to me that Nissan might have improved the icon had it gone with something like this:
Because, after all, when there's a gas problem, it's too often on the inside. And when that's the case, recirculation is the last thing you want.
After spending time in the minivans we've had recently in our fleet — the Honda Odyssey, Toyota Sienna and now the Nissan Quest — one might assume that all minivans offer the kind of reasonably responsive performance that's a million miles removed from the groaning, trucklike handling seen in minivans of yesterday.
It's a happy assumption, but unfortunately, it's a false one. How do I know? I recently spent some time in a Dodge Grand Caravan.
The experience made me that much more appreciative of the Quest's relatively peppy performance off the line, and of how maneuverable it feels, despite its size. The Nissan definitely belongs in the first tier of the minivan segment. The Grand Caravan — well, from a handling perspective, it doesn't.
I was curious about the Nissan Quest's higher-than-usual-for-minivans load floor. One of the big benefits of minivans for me is the ease with which I can just throw a bike in the back, with all wheels on, bungee it secure, and I'm on my way.
This was simple with, say, our long-term Toyota Sienna.
But what about the Quest? I mean, I knew it would fit, but the question was how easily? I found out on my way to an early-morning group road ride in Irvine. After which, I was strangely craving a 3x3...
Turns out it's definitely not as easy to throw a bike in the back as most minivans. I had to angle the bicycle to roll it up inside. But, that doesn't matter too much because I lean the bike over to bungee it to the side anyway. And it was still easier than the majority of vehicles out there.
Once the seat clears the initial opening, the bike actually can be stood up straight. Although, I'm height-impaired and my bike is only a 54, so your loading may vary.
On the other hand, the third row of seats folds down with the touch of a button (actually two buttons), so that's pretty simple. And to fit the bike in I just slid one side of the second row seats forward.
And yes, that minivan in the background is another cyclist who was out on the ride. He clearly knows the value of a useful vehicle.
Some of you liked last week's post on the Camry's headlights. So here's a sample of what the Quest's headlights (high beams in this case) are capable of as well as some info on the bulbs.
Our Quest, because it's an LE trim level, utilizes a combination of Xenon HID lamps and standard halogen bulbs. In low beam mode only the Xenon lamps are on. In high-beam mode both systems operate.
This is the 60-watt halogen bulb that provides additional light for the high-beam mode. I found them for $10 each online. Unbelievably, I can't find any online retailer that sells HID replacement lamps for the Quest. Several sites direct me to product but then deny that that lamp will actually fit the Quest.
More importantly, the Quest's headlight performance isn't as good as the Camry's. Reach and coverage are adequate but not striking — as you can see.
I'm sure there's some logical reason (removability, flexibility, whatever) that the Quest's floor bins utilize fabric hinges which snap the doors to the floor. But it should be obvious from this photo why they annoy me. Yes, the hinges are fully fastened in this photo.
Here you can see the snap straps which act as "hinges" on the bin doors. Besides the fact that the doors don't remain aligned when closed, they awkwardly bind the hinge strap when fully open. You can see the how tightly the straps are pulled in the above image. There's no obvious way to stop the door in the vertical position in this case as gravity makes it fall toward the front of the van. Mazda has a similar design in the previous generation 3 and 5, both of which offer a slot where the bin door can be located while open.
Nissan's design could be better.
If it were more like Mazda's:
Cargo-wise, our 2012 Nissan Quest LE comes across more like a crossover than a minivan.
Case in point: those are 8-foot pieces of angle iron, and they don't fit behind the front seats. To preserve seating for four I must poke them between the front seats and restrain them so they can't bash the dash. If I'm willing to limit seating to two I could fold down the rear seats and angle the angle iron to a greater degree.
But neither maneuver works with any sort of 8-foot panel or boxy object, even if it's just a couple feet wide — a 4'x8' chunk of plywood or drywall isn't even worth discussing. Heck, I'd have a hard time loading a larger number of slender 8-foot items, such as a bunch of 2x4s or 4x4s.
Any homeowner who has ever visited Lowes or Home Depot knows ours is an 8-foot world. Trouble is the Quest, despite its commodious outward appearance, is a 7-foot vehicle.
As much as I prefer driving and sitting in the 2012 Nissan Quest for long distances compared to a Toyota Sienna or Honda Odyssey, this shortcoming is enough to keep the Quest off my shopping list. It can't provide what I consider one of the primary benefits of minivan ownership.
No thanks.
Last night, while navigating menus of the Quest's Bluetooth audio system, I came to realize that there's no means to switch between playing music and listening to a podcast through the van's audio or touchscreen interface. Doing so requires picking up your audio device and swapping between sources using its menus.
At least this is the case using my iPhone 4 and its iOS 5 operating system. Nissan acknowledges this in the Quest's owners manual by saying "...it may allow basic control for playing and skipping audio files using the AVRCP Bluetooth audio profile. All Bluetooth devices do not have the same level of control for AVRCP."
Following the "menu" button at the bottom of the screen led me here:
Obviously, the only option from this screen is to hit "play mode," which led me here:
Clearly, this isn't a road that's going to get me to a podast. There are no other options.
Is it the end of the world? No.
Is it confusing to sort out the first time one runs across it? A little bit.
*Last-minute addition:* Yes, I tried my USB cord, which is malfunctioning. I assume full control of the tracks, podcasts,etc are available this way. I'll report back when I have a new cord.
Cupholders. Yep. The Quest has plenty. Twelve for your moderate intake (two on each side of the third row not shown here). Then four bottle holders in the front and sliding doors for when you need a bender. You'll never go thirsty in the Quest.
Not liking the center console, though. Prefer the Odyssey's. Just lift the lid and dump stuff into a big abyss. The Quest just has that small-ish rubber-lined tray up top, and a pull-out drawer underneath. Under-utilized vertical space. Hey, these things matter when you're elected to make the In-N-Out run.
The photo speaks volumes. The Nissan Quest has tiny buttons for the power sliding doors.
And not only is the button small, but you have to keep it pressed for a second or two for the door to start operating. It's not just a touch-and-it-opens affair.
My question: Why so small and hard to press?
Thanks to Dan Edmunds' Oregon road trip, the Quest has already hit 5,000 miles. So far all is well, save for a small star on the lower part of the windshield (I don't think we've shown you that; I'll document it tomorrow). Compared to our long-term Odyssey and Sienna, the Quest stands out for its exceptionally quiet ride. I also think its CVT works better in a minivan than their five- and six-speed automatics.
I'd intended to catch this milestone exactly as the odometer "clicked over," but this was going on, and I wasn't able to pull over immediately.
My favorite thing about our long-term 2012 Nissan Quest, by far, is its drivetrain. The previous Quest used a version of the VQ-series 3.5-liter V6, too, but the continuously variable transmission that Nissan has switched to on this generation changes everything.
This van feels utterly responsive when you step out to pass on the freeway, and the other vans in this class with conventional automatics simply don't.
My second favorite thing about this van is totally superficial: I love the exterior design. The Quest looks like it's related to any number of minivans — large and small — that I've seen in Japan. I have such a soft spot for JDM vans (especially the old Mitsubishi Delicas, which really don't look much like our Quest, save for their basic shape).
I have yet to meet anyone who's lukewarm on the styling of 2011 and later Nissan Quests. They either agree with me or they think I'm off my rocker. Which side are you on?
My carport is a little wider than a typical compact parking space. (Note: Most vehicles short of an H2 or dually will fit, but one side of the 'port is a stucco wall, so if I'm dealing with a half-ton pickup, a bench seat is convenient as I can exit from the passenger side.) Our long-term 2012 Nissan Quest fits in here with room to spare. A couple nights ago I allowed what I thought would be a comfortable margin — almost 2 feet — to exit on the driver side of the Quest.
And indeed I could get out, but when I tried to leave the driver door open to retrieve items in and around the front-passenger seat, it wouldn't stay open... because I couldn't get the door open wide enough to hit that first detent. Forcing the issue was only going to result in having the door scrape against the wall. This was inconvenient. It would have been even more annoying in a crowded parking garage with another van or SUV parked next to me.
A couple hours later I left to run an errand, and when I returned, I snugged the van up more closely on the passenger side. That netted me another inch or two on the driver side, and sure enough, now I could open the door wide enough to set it in the first detent. OK. Good.
But since I can't always park the van just so, I'd like another detent so that I can keep the driver door open at a narrower angle. Given the parking situation in Japan (that is, really narrow garages), I'm frankly surprised our Kyushu-built van doesn't make more allowance for maneuvering the hinged doors in tight confines.
Mike Magrath has been tasked with doing the Edmunds rating on the Mercedes-Benz CLS63 AMG. I've been tasked with doing the Edmunds model review on the Mercedes-Benz CLS63 AMG. Though I was fully prepared to lirpa him to shreds in a fight to the death to get what could very well be my favorite car, luckily geography was on our side. We live in blocks away, and as we often do, made a switch midday Saturday after Magrath took the first round of custody. I can only imagine what a bystander would think seeing two guys flipping the keys to each other's wildly different cars then driving off.
Clearly, they'd think he'd lost this trade. Badly. Not quite Babe Ruth to the Yankees bad, but not good. Still, in order to make him feel better, here are 10 ways the Nissan Quest is better than a Mercedes-Benz CLS63 AMG
10) Everyone always says that Americans feel bigger is better. Well, you can get a huge, crazy Japanese bus thing for $40,000, or a fast, crazy German sedan-coupe thing for $100,000. The value choice is clear.
9) The Benz has 5 cupholders. The Quest has 16 by Frio's count, so if you like peeing a lot, go for the Nissan.
8) Despite the 290-horsepower gap, the Benz gets 19 mpg combined while the Quest gets 21. Plus, the EPA says you'd only spend $480 extra to fill up the Benz every year ... cha, right. Good luck with that one buddy.
7) No stupid carbon fiber lip spoiler or Alcantara wheel. They actually come with the AMG Performance Package — I'd skip the extra 32 hp and 74 lb-ft of torque just so the car wouldn't have them.
6) The Quest can seat six of your friends. The Benz only half that. If you like people, then this is an easy choice. Since I barely do, and Magrath definitely doesn't, this probably applies more to other members of the populace.
5) I'd be more likely to want to know the person who owns the Quest. I'd really really really (x24) like to own the CLS regardless, but even I wouldn't want to know me. I'd figure I'd be going to the Sunset Strip a lot, wearing tight shirts and listening to something called a
Shingy. Oh, it's Chingy? I don't care.
4) The Benz lacks any sort of secret rum running bin.
3) The Quest has two opening sunroofs. I've been told people like more sunroofs. The Mercedes has only one and is thusly worse.
2) The Quest has a rear seat entertainment system. The Mercedes has a front seat DVD entertainment system, which you can't watch while driving. This is a travesty, for just this morning I was thinking, "You know, this car could really be improved if I could watch Downton Abbey while driving." Actually, I wasn't, but I do suppose I can't do that in the Quest, either. Still, a front seat entertainment system is totally useless. Then again if the acceleration and exhaust note don't keep my potential offspring entertained, I'm shipping them off to Switzerland.
1) The Quest helps you get some lumbar home or hauls around some old furniture. The Benz just hauls ass. Or helps you get some. Maybe that was a bad point.
Hadn't seen a Quest taxi until this one appeared on my way to work today. If you're a fleet owner who needs a minivan, the Quest seems like an odd choice. Given its seat arrangement and load floor height I would think any of the other current offerings might be better suited to this task.
Also, the relative unknown long-term durability of a CVT in this application seems like it should work against choosing the Quest as a taxi. Still, there it was on the 110 freeway.
And what do I know? After all, I'm not a fleet owner.
Click through for the video...
While walking my pup this morning, I walked past my neighbor's 199X Quest and couldn't help notice how dated it looks. Sure, most things, if not all things, from the '90s look outdated but it had me wondering how many people buy new cars with that thought in mind, how dated will their car of choice look in the future? After all not many cars age well.
In fact, name a car that you think has aged well. (And I realize that this may not be so much an issue with minivans as other car types.)
Took our Quest on a long highway drive yesterday. Nothing shocking about the experience — it's a minivan. But a few positive qualities did stand out, most of which we're commented about before in various posts.
The CVT is a standout, particularly for climbing grades — doing the same grade in the Sienna will have you reaching for its manual gear selector to get it out from its stubborn, sixth-gear programming. The Quest's steering is also pretty tidy, as is suspension tuning. Oh, and the fancy-pants air filtration system? Worked great for when I passed roadside dairy farms. Didn't smell a thing.
By request of our reader, commenter and pal subytrojan, a photo of the Nissan Quest conversation mirror. I've probably done him a disservice by shooting an empty cabin, with no perspective of other humans in the bendy glass. Nope. Just me, the dust, and an open bag of Teddy Grahams sliding around in one of the rear door pockets, a solitary man on his way to the car wash.
This high-performance, Nismo-spec convo mirror not only looks vaguely sci-fi sinister, like the visor of some mechanical villain from George Lucas's imagination, but its high-definition widescreen also makes it a pretty good analog blind-spot detector - a good supplement to the electronic referees already embedded in the Quest's side mirrors.
It also makes me think the Quest could devour that smartfortwo alongside in a single bite.
The preschool parking lot: it's the social club for minivans and SUVs. You don't see too many Quests, new or used. I have to give credit to Nissan for the styling direction of the latest Quest, though. The designers could have gone with bland in hopes of mass market appeal. Instead, we have the funky Japan van. You may or may not like it, but it does stand out.
Touch-Free Loading
The other day when I had to load a rolled-up 7'9 x 11' rug in our 2012 Nissan Quest, as soon as I hit the open buttons on the key fob for the two sliding doors (two separate buttons) and the rear hatch, my heart warmed a little toward this "mommy-mobile."
Since the third row was already down, I was able to slide the rug into the van without any finagling. Just slid that in right down the middle til it cleared the rear threshold and hit between the two front seats. Didn't even have to touch the car. So cool. You may not think that's a big deal, but I liked the fact I didn't have to get my paws dirty. As you can tell, I don't have much experience with minivans.
Minivans FTW!
One of the more distinctive elements of the modern minivan is the "well" — the empty space at the rear of the van that's created when the third row of seats is raised. It often comes in handy for placing and securing loose cargo. One of my favored uses is lining up grocery bags.
As you might have noticed, the Nissan Quest is a little different in that it has two covers for its storage well. This does bring about some positives and negatives when it comes time for grocery shopping.
On the positive side, there's a higher load floor with the covers in place, meaning it's easier to load or unload heavy bags or items that would otherwise be deeper in the well. Things seem to slide around a little more, but as long as the third row seat is raised, it's still pretty useful.
The downside is that the covers reduce the ease of actually utilizing the well. As Josh noted previously, the covers are just hinged with straps and are pretty floppy. There's also no good way to secure them in a raised position. (Actually, the owner's manual instructs you not to drive with the covers raised.) So either you don't use the well at all, or whatever you put in it has to be short enough that you can install the covers.
For me, I think I'd prefer the regular well design as found on the Odyssey and Sienna.
If I had to choose between our Odyssey, Quest and Sienna to drive every day, I'd pick the Quest. At first, there's nothing dramatic that stands out about it. But there are some little things that combine to make it pretty enjoyable.
For one, the Quest drives smaller than it really is. The Quest's responsive CVT comes into play here, as the van is always willing to move out smartly when I ask it to. Handling is beneficial — the Quest is more willing to turn in than average. It's also probably due to the fact that when I take a look behind me, it doesn't immediately seem like I have an aircraft hanger's worth of space behind me. The Quest is just more personable. Rear outward visibility seems better, too, which could be due to the Quest's boxier shape.
The other thing that strikes me about the Quest is that it's just nicer inside. There aren't any cheap interior materials like in our Sienna or a convoluted dashboard design like our Odyssey. The switchgear is high quality and the navigation interface is excellent. These are the things that you have to interact with everyday.
The Quest certainly has some drawbacks, the main ones for me being reduced cargo carrying capacity (the downside to not being an aircraft hanger) and exterior styling. From an ownership standpoint, those might be enough to dissuade me. But for picking a set of minivan keys off our car sign-out board, I'll go Quest everytime.
It's a pretty minor thing, but I dig the push-button releases for our Quest's power sliding rear doors. One press and voila, the door opens. Granted, it's not very different than normal minivan door operation where you just pull on the handle to open the door. The Quest has that functionality, too. But the button (as does the handle) works even if the van is locked, as our Quest has the keyless ignition/entry feature (Nissan's "Intelligent Key").
If your hands are full of stuff (which is common as a parent), being able to unlock and open the sliding door just by pressing a button is a nice little touch.
Thanks to some very nice California weather and there being no school/work, I took my four-year-old daughter in the Quest to a state park for a daddy-daughter picnic and hike yesterday. Just about any vehicle would have been fine, but the Quest certainly made it enjoyable for my daughter. For her, there was plenty of room, easy entry and exit, rear door sunshades and a rear-seat entertainment system (I indulged her with the movie "Swan Princess").
I will be honest: There was a brief moment of personal minivan regret.
As I was packing up to head home from the trailhead, an attractive young woman pulled up in her Civic and began unloading her mountain bike from the trunk. She glanced over, and there I was standing in front of an odd looking duck of a minivan with a pink Hello Kitty backpack and water bottle in hand. I'm sure the visual was an ideal pretty-girl repellent.
But I learned from my Minivan Experience with the Odyssey back in July of last year not to worry about such things. My daughter and I had a great time, and the Quest was part of it.
"The 1961 Ferrari 250GT California. Less than a hundred were made. My father spent three years restoring this car. It is his love, it is his passion."
"It is his fault he didn't lock the garage."
My daughter watched a movie (not Ferris Bueller's Day Off) on our Quest's rear-seat entertainment system (RES) earlier this week. Figured I'd follow up with a few semi-professional thoughts about how well it works.
I also reviewed our Odyssey's RES last July, so I'll be comparing the two systems quite a bit here.
Like most other rear-entertainment systems, the Quest has a fairly standard setup with a single CD/DVD player up front and a flip-down display screen for the second and third rows. It's an 11-inch screen, however, and has a better wide-screen aspect ratio than the 9-inch screen in the Odyssey. (Note that our Odyssey had the standard RES; an upgrade is also available.)
The system also comes with two wireless headphones. They have adjustable volume and an auto-off feature. As with most other systems, the front passengers can listen to an alternate audio source while those seated in the rear can use the headphones. I preferred the Odyssey's headphones, though, as they seemed to have a better sound quality and had a more useful auto-off function.
Speaker sound quality was impressive in my limited testing, though. Since our Quest is the LE trim level, it has both the RES and a 13-speaker Bose surround-sound audio system as standard. In particular, I liked how there's an integrated speaker in the RES unit that functions as the center-channel speaker.
I wasn't as fond of the Quest's RES remote. I forgot to take a picture of it, but it's not as easy to use as the Odyssey's remote and it lacks the Odyssey's dockable capability. But overall I like our Quest's RES more, with screen and audio quality being the main determining factors.
High gas prices have been all over the news recently. People tend to drive less and scale back their travel plans at times like this. I had plans to go to Las Vegas this weekend and unlike Vegas high-roller Al Austria, I decided to take the budget-minded, low-roller approach. I got the keys to the long term 2012 Nissan Quest, made reservations for a $40 per night room in downtown Las Vegas, and scoped out the cheap buffets. The only thing missing was a set of low rolling resistance tires to make the theme complete. But the Quest has traditional all-season tires instead.
Although I wasn't paying for the gas, I was mindful of the high prices and drove the Quest efficiently. Plus, it was an opportunity to see if I could set some sort of mpg record.
I brought four friends with me and we packed the cargo area to capacity. Like Brent, I also would have preferred more traditional minivan "trunk well" design, since the flat floor forced us to do a balancing act on our stacked luggage.
The Quest was very quiet, comfortable and easy to drive. It had plenty of power and one of the smoothest continuously variable transmissions I've ever experienced. Many of my passengers fell asleep and had plenty of room to stretch out.
While I was keeping tabs on my gas consumption, I didn’t take any extreme measures to maximize my fuel economy. I set the cruise control to about 5 mph faster than the posted speed limit, when possible. When I came across a decline, I turned off the cruise control and let the car's momentum move it forward.
On the way to Las Vegas, I averaged 19.8 mpg. This wasn't a true highway number because I drove around on surface streets for a while before filling up. For reference, the Quest's EPA numbers are 19 mpg city, 24 highway and 21 combined.
My fuel economy greatly improved on the way back. I made fewer stops and I was able to fill up soon after getting off the freeway. My return-trip fuel economy was 24.2 mpg. This is a new record for the Quest. The previous best was 23.6 mpg, set back in December.
I was impressed that the Quest was able to meet its highway fuel economy figure with five passengers and a full load of cargo. In total, I travelled 590 miles and had a total trip average of 21.7 mpg, slightly better than the EPA combined average.
That same day I witnessed just how variable gas prices can be. I filled up the tank at $3.73 per gallon (87 octane) before leaving Las Vegas. When I arrived back in Van Nuys, California and had to refuel, a gallon of gas now cost $4.40 per gallon. It's going to be a rough next few months.
I made it a point to check the fuel economy gauge on my recent trip to Las Vegas and compare it to actual calculated mpg. In our experiences, we have noticed that these gauges have a tendency to be overly optimistic. Not so in the 2012 Nissan Quest.
I filled up twice on my last trip and in both situations the in-car display was 0.3 mpg less than the actual calculated figure.
First fill up — Displayed MPG: 19.5 (19.8 actual)
Second fill up — Displayed MPG: 23.9 (24.2 actual)
If I had to choose, I think I'd prefer the fuel economy gauge to underreport what I'm actually getting — especially if it's as consistent as this one is. What would you prefer? Underestimate or overestimate?
Loyal readers of the long-term road test blog may recall my yearly trip to the cookie warehouse to pick up my daughter's Girl Scout troop's entire cookie order.
Well, Warehouse Day was last Saturday, and I got hosed.
It was my own fault, not asking Car Keeper Mike Schmidt early enough for the keys to our Nissan Quest. Ron Montoya had already pointed the Quest toward Vegas when I began stacking 78 cases of cookies into a Ford Edge we had in for testing, and my own Volvo V70 wagon.
But Thin Mint sales have been so strong this week, I'm making a second cookie run tomorrow for an additional 80 cases.
And this time, I'm taking the minivan.
Yesterday I went to the "Cookie Cupboard" to pick up an additional 63 cases of Girl Scout cookies.
I was fifth in line to load, and feeling pretty optimistic that I would be able to put all of the cases behind the second-row seats.
Sixty-one cases fit in the back. Two had to go on a second-row seat.
Nissan is recalling 23,531 2011-'12 Quest minivans because the engine may stall, according to NHTSA.
Stalling may occur while driving at slow speeds or idling on a decline with one-quarter tank of fuel or less. The problem is due to software programming, which may cause an insufficient supply of fuel to the engine.
To fix the problem, Nissan dealers will reprogram the fuel pump control module.
The recall is expected to begin around March 15.
After a week of hauling around Girl Scout cookies, I took the Quest to the car wash this morning to get it a much needed bath. While I was waiting for it to be dried, a man crossed the parking lot and asked about the Quest.
"It's nice," he said. "Real nice."
I thanked him, and he asked, "A '12?"
"Yep," I said.
"And big," he said. "What's it hold, 10 or 12?"
"People?" I asked. "This is a seven-passenger."
"Too bad," he said, shaking his head. "A van that big should hold at least 10."
Sure, it's bigger than the old Quest, but comparable to a cargo van? Do you think the new design makes it look that large?
After driving 312 miles, I filled up the Quest's tank yesterday.
Cost for 87 octane in Santa Monica was $4.40 per gallon.
That means I paid .25 cents per mile.
My daughter's school is six miles from our house. That means it cost $3 per round-trip just to get her to school and back.
Suddenly a $600 annual bus pass sounds less absurd.
I'm the kind of girl who wears jeans, not shorts in the summer, uses seat heaters in August, and keeps a knitted blanket at my desk.
Yesterday I did something I almost never do. I turned the Quest's automatic climate control down to 70 degrees. And then down to 68. And finally down to 66 before the air actually started blowing coldish.
Playing around with it, I turned the auto off, put the A/C on and turned the fan way up. Still was barely cool, but never really cold.
It works well enough to keep the Quest on the road for another 200 miles before it heads in for regular service at 7,500 miles, but when even a coldy like me notices an issue, it's something we'll definitely have checked out in the next two weeks or so.
That's what I think of whenever I get in and start driving the Nissan Quest. Everything is supple, from the way it rides and the ease with which the suspension soaks up bumps, to the relaxed calibration of the throttle.
Inside the cabin...
are ultra-plush seats, and even the door armrests and adjustable seat armrests provide soft, all-day perches for your elbows.
Supple is exactly what I'm looking for when driving a minivan. I just want to kick back in quiet comfort and be thoroughly relaxed whenever I get to where I'm going.
The Quest does this perfectly.
My cousin Teri was visiting me from Virginia over the weekend before heading off to San Diego for work. When I was getting ready to pick her up at the airport, I said, "Look for a giant gray Nissan Quest minivan."
"You're driving a what??" she asked.
"A Quest minivan," I repeated.
"No, seriously, what should I look for?" she asked again.
I guess my family has gotten a little used to me driving fancy cars over the years. And yep, that damn minivan stigma surfaces yet again.
Not surprisingly, a minivan has never been on Teri's radar. She has a boyfriend, but no immediate plans for marriage or kids. "But even if I have kids, I can't see myself ever driving a minivan," she told me.
"What would your drive?"
"An SUV."
I've had this same conversation with several women, and it's amazing how many hate the thought of driving (and worse, I think, being seen in) a minivan. Personally, I don't care who sees me in the Quest. Of course, I'm not paying for it, or driving it every day.
Teri couldn't deny how nice the Quest's ride was, or the comfortable interior, or the utter space efficiency and usefulness. But it seems like no matter how good minivans get, the stigma of actually being a minivan driver, and all that entails, just won't go away.
It should be noted, though, that Teri isn't exactly a typical female. She has two vehicles, a Nissan Pathfinder that trucks her and her friends to as many Clemson football games as possible. And a Mazda RX-8 with a manual transmission.
She told me her current dream car is the Acura NSX Concept that she saw an ad for during the Super Bowl, until I told her that it probably won't have a manual transmission.
"Wait, what? Why would anyone buy a sports car without a manual transmission? Where's the fun in driving that?" she asked.
Breaking news flash! Mikey was able to change the Quest's clock for Daylight Savings Time last weekend. Yes, a complete shocker.
All kidding aside, the Quest does have a neat feature for quickly and easily changing the clock the two times a year that we need to do so here in North America.
You simply hit "on" or "off" when the clock setting on the display screen prompts you about DST.
You do have to navigate through a couple of screens within "settings" to get there. But what's cool is that you don't have to actually fiddle with the clock at all, it just automatically moves the hour forward or backward for you depending on the time of year.
A few months ago I would've told you (if you asked) that between the Honda Odyssey, Toyota Sienna and Nissan Quest, the Quest was the ugly duckling of the trio. Now, I'm not so sure anymore.
I'm not going to sit here and tell you the Quest is pretty or anything like that, but it's certainly distinctive and surely not boring. I think what I like about it is that it's styling is just so very Japanese. To the point that it's kinda cool.
So while familiarity supposedly breeds contempt (at least among people), the more time I spend with the Quest, the more I actually like its styling. Or, at least I no longer vehemently dislike it.
Well, here's a problem I wouldn't expect to encounter in a minivan. Our NSX or old Z06? Sure. But our Quest? Curbs are not all the same height and some can be rather tall. Also the downward slope of the street's side (to aid drainage) adds to the potential problem as the door will swing open on a downward plane. So if you drive a low-slung car, it's good practice to check door-swing clearance to prevent scraping the door's bottom edge and/or digging up the grass. This curb wasn't particularly high, but my wife always does the door check thing before hopping out. Here was the surprising result with the Quest.
Had she swung it open enough to get out it would've just cleared the curb but would've required her to replace her divots. So instead she shut the door, stepped over the console and exited via the sliding side door. I was surprised that a minivan's door couldn't comfortably clear this curb, but upon closer inspection I found out why.
As you can see here, the door itself doesn't go that low — the Quest's ground effects cladding extends about four inches below the door's bottom edge. Makes for a cleaner aesthetic rather than having two separate pieces (one piece on the door and one below) but this more seamless look is going to cost shotgun passengers some extra caution.
If you're going to buy a vehicle that facilitates road trips, it should have good seats. Actually, all vehicles should have good seats, but the for the sake of this post I'll limit things to our long-term Quest. A few reasons why these chairs work:
1. They're soft enough to conform to your body, yet they don't sag so much that you automatically slouch after 20 minutes behind the wheel.
2. There's a good range of adjustment. They go low enough for floor scrapers like myself and high for those who like to tickle the ceiling with their hair. Plenty of legroom too.
3. An adjustable, fold down armrest. It's not really a proper captain's chair if you don't have an armrest on the right side. The one in the Quest ratchets to just about any angle, perfect.
Nothing makes you forget about the Quest's CVT quicker than its burly V6 engine. Actually, to be fair, the CVT in the Quest is pretty damn good as those transmission go. It's not too "rubbery" in its power delivery and it helps keep the mileage in check.
But back to the engine. It's fantastic. Sounds good, feels powerful at nearly any speed and has little trouble launching this sizable van into traffic. Dodge may have its own "man van", but this Quest would hold its own in a minivan stoplight showdown. Not sure such events ever happen, but if they did the Quest would be ready.
Short of their ability to tackle rough terrain or tow anything sizable, minivans are almost always a better alternative to SUVs. Case in point — room behind the third row seats.
As you can see, our Quest had plenty of space for cargo even when the third row seats are in place. To get that kind of space in an SUV you need to go big, really big, like Suburban big.
Would I rather drive a Suburban? Of course I would, but that's just not practical for most people. Plus the Quest has cool powered seat that raise and lower at the push of a button. Nice.
First off, why are these things are called minivans when they're anything but? Still, if I had four or five kids and decided to get a "maxivan" (sorry Dodge) instead of a Ford Flex, the Quest would be my choice. My main reasons why echo the sentiments of some of my colleagues...
Solid Driving Dynamics:
The Quest's V6 packs plenty of punch and yet, driven in a worst-case scenario environment (heavy-footed staff and perpetual L.A. "freeway" gridlock) we are averaging 19 mpg. Nissan's CVT is the best in the business as it smoothly transfers the power to the wheels without feeling like an old automatic with a slipping torque converter. Lastly, the Quest provides a plush ride without feeling like a King size mattress on four beach balls when a faster corner comes up.
Styling:
I know this is about as big a concern in this segment as singing ability is to Nicki Minaj. But on the other hand, I just couldn't drive something as fugly as the Odyssey and the Sienna is just bland. The Quest is the only one that strikes me as approaching attractive. Yes, the front end is a little weird, but I like the profile with its sweeping character lines and Mini Cooper/Ford Flex-like greenhouse with its blacked-out roof pillars that give a wrap-around glass effect. Just watch the lower skirting when you open the passenger's door next to a high curb.
Cabin:
As other staffers have noted, the Quest's inner sanctum looks and feels a cut (or two) above the others. The flowing dash design, convincing fake wood accents, high quality materials and contrasting piping on the seats make it seem as if the Quest LE was indeed at first slated to be an Infiniti.
Let's get this out of the way right now: That's a diesel-powered Jeep Wrangler in front of me. Yes, diesel. It's an older model and clearly had an engine swap. Also, based on the frequency and intensity of the black exhaust pouring from its tailpipe, little care was given to the diesel engine's emissions system. Such is the curse/blessing of a diesel swap in California. But that's not what I'm here to talk about.
I followed this guy in the Quest for five or so miles down an isolated road in the Cleveland National Forest. There were no other cars on the road and we were miles from civilization. I can confirm that the van's Exhaust Gas Detection system isn't a gimmick. Every time the Wrangler driver would open the throttle, the Jeep emitted a thick stream of black soot which I intentionally drove through.
Only on one brief occassion did I detect the stench of diesel exhaust. This, I'd guess, is because the system in only active when in "auto recircluation" mode. I left it in this mode the whole time, but because the Jeep didn't spew stink the whole time, I presume the system switched to recirculation only when necessary. Could be that it requires a few seconds to react. In any case, this was an succesful showing for a system which I doubted until now.
Good work, Nissan. Now if you could do something about stink coming from inside the van.
And the worst part is that I don't know when or where it happened. At least it's small, and down by the dashboard, so it's not really interfering with the driver's line of sight.
I've been spending a lot of time in our long-term 2012 Nissan Quest. And it seems with every mile I discover another cool feature this van offers. Yesterday I made use of this hidden drawer that pops out of the bottom of the center console between the front seats.
It's not a huge space, but it's more than large enough for a family's worth of nick nacks, or even my nine-year-old's Nikes.
I ended up using it all day for our phones, my camera and the paperback my wife is reading.
Unless you know to look for the drawer, you'd never know it's there. Nice touch Nissan.
Last May I posted videos of the power liftgates of both our long-term 2011 Toyota Sienna SE and our long-term 2011 Honda Odyssey. Well, now its the Nissan Quest's turn.
Listen for the beeps.
Our 2011 Nissan Quest has a screen that allows you to manually program maintenance warning intervals. You've probably seen something like it before. It isn't new to Nissan products. Unlike this photo suggests, we set ours to match the 7,500 prescribed routine maintenance intervals outlined by Nissan.
What this feature does not do is remind you to post a blog after you take the car in for service. We dropped ours off at Huntington Beach Nissan for fresh oil, a new filter and a tire rotation about a month ago. Then the invoice sat here on my desk collecting dust until now. Sorry, boss.
Total Cost: $80.94
Days out of Service: None
I never thought I'd be SO grateful for a minivan. I don't have kids to take to soccer practice and I don't normally haul a bunch of stuff around. But this weekend I really needed our 2012 Nissan Quest since I had to haul around my family, six people altogether for a family reunion in Vegas.
Unfortunately, the Quest seemed to be in much demand. First, editor Chris Walton had signed out for it and then the big boss, Scott Oldham, said he needed it. Currently it's the only vehicle in our fleet that can accommodate six passengers.
Thankfully, for one reason or another, which I won't even question, it worked out for me and my family. So here they are enjoying the roomy accommodations of the Quest on the way to the reunion.
The third-row passengers appreciated how easy it was to get in and out of the back. "It helped that the second-row seat is easy to move forward when you pull the lever to pull the back part down," said my sister. "Makes it easy to keep your dignity when entering and exiting the vehicle, even in heels and a flapper dress." (By the way, we had to dress up for the family reunion in 1920s fashions.) They also noted that it was comfortable with decent legroom.
My dad thought the sliding doors were magical and my mom felt oh-so fancy stepping out of the new minivan with its "magical doors" in front of her relatives. She loved that the vehicle wasn't too high off the ground and easy for her to step down from unassisted.
It was the perfect conveyance for the weekend. Really made me see the Quest in a whole new light, too. Forget kid-hauling, it'd be perfect for taking friends out for a night on the town.
Spending 600 miles behind the wheel of our longterm 2012 Nissan Quest en route to the shame of our nation, Las Vegas, gave me a pretty good idea of its freeway attributes.
Let's talk about its size. It casts a large shadow. Really large (and it's really dowdy-looking, but I'm probably not the first to express this opinion). And the not-insignificant mass of this maxivan is really palpable when you traverse large bumps and compressions, moreso than in our Odyssey or Sienna. You picture the Quest's suspension straining to manage the colossal structure bearing down upon it.
Yet in practice, the Quest drives less 'tippy' and top-heavy than our longterm Explorer. Plus, the Quest's strong V6 punches it around with enough authority that it never feels lacking for power. The quick and adequately-hefted steering, too, helps the minivan drive more tidily than I had expected.
So call it a split decision — the Quest feels heavier than its direct competition but this impression doesn't dominate the minivan's every move.
More impressions and observations to follow.
Time flies. Our longterm 2012 Nissan passed the 10,000-mile mark over the weekend. Seems like just yesterday our Quest was but a little lunchbox. My, how it's grown!
Tell us — is there anything in particular you'd like to know about the Quest that we've not addressed thus far?
Before the trip to Vegas, I had to drop off my dog Mya at the sitter's. Definitely no real struggle in our huge 2012 Nissan Quest. Only issue, if you want to call it that, was trying to stop Mya from jumping in the car and then squeezing between the second-row seats to the back. In past backseats, she never had that option of extra space and easy access to those spaces. Here, she was like, "Where do you want me? Here? Or in the backseat? Or maybe in the front seat?" But no big deal and I got the hang of it for the second time when I had to pick her up after the trip.
Since the second row isn't a benchseat, Mya (looking very devil dog-like in the above nighttime photo) had to sit upright for the ride but she liked looking out the window. If it were a longer trip, however, she probably would have to curl herself into a tight ball to lie down.
The rear overhead vents kept her panting to a minimum. I'd like to think she appreciated the Quest's low step-in since at seven she's getting up there in years and can't jump as well as she used to. Only thing she didn't seem to like was the sliding doors which made her twitch nervously as they moved and shut themselves.
As for me, I liked how the seatbelt latches protruded from the seat, making it a cinch to buckle her in. And loved how easy it was to tuck her blanket into the seat so she couldn't kick it off. And naturally all that space for her doggy weekend bag was nice.
We paid a visit to the dealer to address an open recall campaign on our 2012 Nissan Quest. The recall required the Quest go under the knife for an electronic nip and tuck. After about 45 minutes the reprogramming was complete and we were on our way.
Despite the construction in progress, Huntington Beach Nissan was efficient. We were in and out in what we considered a reasonable amount of time, especially since we didn't have an appointment. It also worked to our advantage that the waiting room was empty when we arrived. Maybe this next picture explains why...
Would you go in?
We looked past the trailer park village of lounges, offices and restrooms eventually. And it was good that we did, because behind these temporary walls there was a competent, friendly service team that treated us right. Based on our visits to this dealer, we would go back again.
Our longterm 2012 Nissan Quest's transmission doesn't have a manual mode of any kind. At first, this fact gave me some some pause regarding its abiltiy to provide engine braking, which is something I use a lot to regulate speed especially on long freeway road trips.
However, its lack of a manual mode proved to be no issue at all. The Quest has a very effective and quick way to provide engine braking. In fact, it provides two degrees of engine braking. Press the button on the selector to "turn off" the overdrive ratio and you instantly get the first level of engine braking. Need more? Drop the selector down to "L". With the use of these features I never missed not having a manual mode.
And the Quest's CVT is truly outstanding in other ways. First, no shift shock. Ever! Can't say that about conventional gearbox, regardless of gear count. The Quest's CVT is uncommonly smooth, which is just what you want when you're transporting five other people (some of which are sensitive to a car's pitching movements).
The pairing of the CVT to a high-torque engine like the Quest's V6 is the secret sauce — CVTs tend to magnify the gutlessness and buzziness of four-cylinder engines. If you have preconceived notions regarding CVTs, you owe it to yourself to experience the Nissan's V6/CVT combo. It's really the best implementation of a CVT to date and it gives up nothing to a conventional autobox.
+
Ed's right that the seats in our longterm 2012 Nissan Quest are pretty plush thrones, and that there's ample space to sprawl out on them.
One thing, though — after three hours in the saddle, I developed a solid case of dead butt. You know the feeling. No matter how much you squirm and shift, your tookus is just done with being sat upon. I didn't experience this during my two previous road trips; one of which was in our X3 (Five hours. Butt still alive.). The other trip was in our $100k Audi A8L, so, yeah, not exactly a fair comparison to our Quest.
Maybe I'm alone here on this matter regarding the Quest's front seat comfort. Until other editors chime in with their own long-haul experiences, consider this a data point of one.
Every parent knows that the power sliding door is the second best invention in the history of mankind, television being number one.
So here's a little video of the Quest's passenger side power sliding door in action.
There are more than a few ways to activate the Quest's power sliding doors, including these two buttons on the dashboard just to the left of the steering wheel and buttons on the keyfob.
A 39-mile stretch of Nevada highway 375 is known as the Extraterrestrial Highway. Stretching from Crystal Springs to the tiny town of Rachel, the E.T. Highway runs about 15 or so miles to the north and east of Area 51 and the military's skunkworks at Groom Lake.
None of that is visible from the road — any road, for that matter — but that hasn't stopped the locals from playing it up as much as possible.
There's an alien gift shop in Crystal Springs near mile 0.0. It was closed.
There's pretty much nothing to see between the two towns but miles and miles of desert. And a few scattered cows — this is all open range.
I came across this guy during a short hike up the hill to take the previous photo.
A recovered
satellite dish
flying saucer is on display at the wide spot in the road known as Rachel.
Even though Rachel's bar was friendly, there's no valet service for "visitors."
And another thing: remote Nevada road signs seem to collect (and retain) stickers.
Exhibit A: the ET highway signs.
Exhibit B: A reinforced mailbox, the only "structure" for miles between the two ET Highway endpoints. Those aren't stickers on the stop sign, though. It's been thoughtfully decorated with a shotgun blast.
Exhibit C: closer to Vegas before the start of the ET highway.
Exhibit D: from the border with Utah during my Jeep-to-Moab run
Sorry for the glare coming off our 2012 Nissan Quest, but it's the Sun. <insidejoke>You can't move the Sun.</insidejoke>
Point is, the contraption to the right carries Arizona plates. And I'm sure here in Nevada they don't blink an eye, either.
Each of these twins carries a GM Vortec V8 in that cradle behind the rear axle. They're three-seaters: two in front and one in the center-rear flanked by ice chests full of tasty beverages.
Nice.
And they really move out, too.
The orange one is for sale. Has a sticker with a phone number on the rear quarter-panel. Let me know if you have trouble reading it. I can only imagine how much they want.
All I know is I want to test one.
Soon.
Last night on my way home I used this switch to adjust the height of the Quest's headlight illumination pattern. I flipped it between postition "0" and position "3" and was never able to discern a difference in what I could or couldn't see.
So I performed a test when I got home.
The below image was shot with the switch in position "3." As you can see, the arrows are aligned with the highest cutoff point of the pattern, which raises and falls from right to left.
The below image was shot without moving the van or the camera after switching to position "0." The arrows are in the same locations as above. Clearly, position "0" lower the area illuminated. With distance the difference will become far more substantial.
But does it matter? Well, not on the well-illuminated and utterly flat LA freeways. At least not with the van unloaded. I guess I'll need a dark back road, a full load and some hills to give this feature a real workout.
And I should have that this weekend.
The magic of the minivan is packaging. Doing it well is a make-or-break sticking point in this segment. And the spare tire is always a challenge. I've got an adventure panned this weekend that might require some dirt road driving and I hadn't ever looked to see where the Quest's spare tire is hiding until today.
Turns out, it's underneath.
But it's not out back. That space, as you probably know, is consumed by a large rear bin which leaves no room for a tire. Rather, it's under the floor about where a second-row passenger's feet would be. And it's released by a crank mechanism which utilizes the jack handle and lug wrench.
Here's to hoping I don't need it.
No, our 2012 Nissan Quest didn't visit a ranch — not that kind of ranch, anyway. But it did spend some time on some graded dirt roads.
If you must know, I'll lay my nerd cred on the table: last weekend's trip to the ET highway was a geocaching trip. Some insane person put out 1,500 of the things in the area around Rachel, Nevada, each spaced exactly 0.1 mile apart.
A team of 17 even more insane
persons
nerds known as Team DNF, myself included, made an assault on the ET series in five vehicles. I signed out the Quest because of it's spaceous middle row, power sliding door and low step-in height. After all, my runner would be stepping in and out a lot.
Most of the 150-mile route was paved, but about 50 miles were graded dirt roads. Even some of the pavement counts as dirt because the Nevada highway department reminds cachers that the paved miles require us to travel on the unpaved shoulder near each ground zero. It was all reasonably smooth and well within the capability of a 2WD minivan, but I still had to keep a sharp eye peeled for holes and protruding sharp rocks.
Whether on asphalt or dirt, the process went like this: each car would do a mile's worth of searching and logging, then haul ass 4 miles and leapfrog the other four teams to their next assigned mile. They're doing the same thing too, of course, so there's a lot of honking and waving as the various cars pass and repass their stationary brethren every few minutes throughout the day.
There's also a lot of Gatorade, beef jerky and sunscreen.
If it sounds dumb, it is. But it's also loads of fun.
No, really.
At the end, the Quest was dirty, but not irreversibly so. The wind was blowing the right direction most of the time, so less dust than you'd think drifted inside through the open doors. Once I got home my trusty microfiber towel took care of it in all of 5 minutes. Still, it helped that my runners remembered to wait three-Mississippi before opening the slider.
After we finished we headed for Tonopah, Nevada, stopping at the entrance to the Tonopah Missile Test Range on the way.
The Quest did great. The A/C and it's cabin air filter kept the dust at bay, and my passengers didn't have any complaints in the backseat. We used the heck out of the 120V inverter and the USB jacks in an attempt to keep our electronic devices charged.
All day long the well behind the third seat proved to be a great place for our ice-chest, food and on-deck drinks. Down there it couldn't slide around and any icy dribbles fell harmlessly down below the level of the "good" carpet of the load floor.
And I'm even more impressed with the Quest's CVT transmission than I was already. We accelerated from rest hundreds of times, and each one was smooth and seamless; no one turned green.
Our Quest has been averaging 19.0 mpg combined thus far in its time with us. Its EPA ratings are 19 city/24 highway/21 combined.
Tomorrrow morning Monticello (yes, that Monticello) and I are leaving on an 800-mile trip. Seven hundred of those miles will be on the highway where I drive conservatively and at the limit. Can't speak for the other guy.
Can we match the EPA numbers?
Stan forgot something; his trekking poles, I think. He turned around and walked back toward the 2012 Nissan Quest to go get them.
But the doors were locked because of a traumatic formative experience I suffered at age ten in the Harrah's auto museum parking lot in Reno, Nevada. Our car was robbed and Mom and Dad accused each other of leaving it unlocked. Suffice it to say I've been a chronic door-locker ever since.
A small group of us was farther up the hill than Stan. I was in no mindset to turn back because I was On My Way to the ridgetop. The remote key fob was my best hope.
It worked. The faraway warning beeps were very faint, but the door opened for Stan and he retrieved his stuff. I used the button to close it when he was done.
We continued on up the hill and got to the top a couple minutes before Stan, who was still catching up. Curious, I fished out the keys once more and tried again while we waited.
It worked just the same. The beeps were unhearable at this distance — 0.12 mile/0.2 km/650 feet according to the GPS — but the door slid back and forth as if I had been standing right next to it.
Of course I locked it when I was done playing.
We came across cheap gas on the way home from Nevada — really cheap gas. But the 2012 Nissan Quest was a few decades too late to be served.
How does 58.9 cents per gallon grab you? And it looks like the pump can only display $9.99. Anything over that required some math.
Premium was going for 68.9 cents — a dime per gallon more. Sound familiar? Makes you wonder if the extra cost of "good" gas has anything at all to do with production costs.
Anyone care to guess when this gas station went out of business? It may help to know this was a rural station in a remote area near the California/Nevada border north of Bishop, Ca about ten miles south of...
...here, where the Quest posed on highway 6 with its front tires in California and its rears in Nevada. Prices out here would have been higher than those in a big city like Los Angeles.
We lowlanders are always baffled when our cars are slow as a result of thin air. The weekend trip involved some driving up to about 6,500 feet where the otherwise stellar Quest powertrain felt genuinely anemic.
Fortunately, we were able to verify our suspicions that this was the case using the navigation system. Its submenu offers a feature which displays lattitude and longitude coordinates in addition to elevation in real time.
Nice.
The Quest's EPA fuel economy ratings are 19 city/24 highway/21 combined.
Over the weekend Monti and I drove the van on an 806-mile road trip. Seven hundred twenty five of those miles were on the interstate or two-lane highway.
On that trip I witnessed some interesting driving...
Despite this, the Quest averaged 20.5 mpg.
Every so often, a track test gets lost in the shuffle. It's rare that this happens with something like our Mustang GT, but it is regrettable that it's happened with our Long-Term 2012 Nissan Quest LE.
Those of you slogging through our reviews of the doors and seating arrangements, function and fuel economy just to see what the 3.5-liter, CVT-equipped Quest managed during track testing will have to wait no more!
Vehicle: 2012 Nissan Quest LE
Odometer: 3,538
Date: 1/04/2012
Driver: Chris Walton
Price: $44,065
Specifications:
Drive Type: Front engine, front-wheel drive
Transmission Type: Continuously variable
Engine Type: Naturally aspirated, port-injected V6
Displacement (cc/cu-in): 3,498/213
Redline (rpm): 6,600
Horsepower (hp @ rpm): 260 @ 6,000
Torque (lb-ft @ rpm): 240 @ 4,400
Brake Type (front): 11.4-by-1.1-inch one-piece ventilated cast-iron disc with 2-piston sliding caliper
Brake Type (rear): 12.1-by-0.6-inch one-piece ventilated cast-iron disc with single-piston sliding caliper
Steering System: Electric-over-hydraulic-assist, speed-proportional power rack-and-pinion power steering
Suspension Type (front): Independent MacPherson struts, coil springs, twin-tube dampers, stabilizer bar
Suspension Type (rear): Independent multilink, coil springs, twin-tube dampers
Tire Size (front): P235/55R18 99T
Tire Size (rear): P235/55R18 99T
Tire Brand: Toyo
Tire Model: A22
Tire Type: All-season
Wheel size: 18-by-7 inches front and rear
Wheel material (front/rear): Cast aluminum
As tested Curb Weight (lb): 4,592 (55.1% front)
Test Results:
Acceleration:
0-30 (sec): 3.5 (4.1 w/ TC on)
0-45 (sec): 5.7 (6.2 w/ TC on)
0-60 (sec): 8.3 (8.9 w/ TC on)
0-60 with 1-ft Rollout (sec): 8.0 (8.5 w/ TC on)
0-75 (sec): 11.8 (12.3 w/ TC on)
1/4-Mile (sec @ mph): 16.2 @ 89.5 (16.6 @ 89.1 w/ TC on)
Braking:
30-0 (ft): 32
60-0 (ft): 125
Handling:
Slalom (mph): 56.9 (56.7 w/ ESC on)
Skid Pad Lateral Acceleration (g): 0.75 (0.74 w/ ESC off)
Sound:
Db @ Idle: 44.3
Db @ Full Throttle: 76.2
Db @ 70 mph Cruise: 66.8
RPM @ 70 mph: 2,200
Tester's comments:
Acceleration: Weak off the line, good power by 4,500 rpm. Once the engine gets the revs up to 6,100 rpm, the CVT just holds it there for the rest of the strip. Quickest run came with shifter in "L," but not really sure why. No manual shifting ability: just Drive, Low and an Overdrive-Off button on the console lever.
Braking: Long-travel pedal with a spongy feel, especially first stop. But pedal got firmer with each stop. Lots of nosedive, some rear lockup. First stop was shortest at 125 feet. Longest was final (6th) at 129 feet, at which point the brakes were quite stinky.
Slalom: Not a big shock, but the Quest's cushy ride gives boaty, floaty handling with steering that's pretty vague. The important thing here was to try to stay below the non-defeat ESC system's intervention point, or it would start stabbing the brakes.
Skidpad: Surprisingly receptive to drop-throttle to adjust for understeer with ESC/TC off (ESC can't be fully defeated). With ESC on, the Quest did a crazy amount of braking to control understeer, swinging the tail out slightly at times, and this was actually just ever so slightly quicker than with the system partially off.
Speed limits, in case you haven't noticed, change arbitrarily. Especially in California. One mile the limit on the freeway is 65 mph and the next it's 70. We found this was particularly true on two-lane state roads in Arizona last weekend. The limit would climb to 65 and then be back to 55. Then, heading through a roadside community, you might see 35 mph.
The Quest's nav system does a fairly reliable job of telling its driver the limit on the road they're using. Certainly it doesn't keep up in the most remote areas, but I found myself relying on it more than a few times last weekend.
The memories of last weekend's fun are fading fast, but looking through some photos today reminds me of the last 15 miles of twisting road before we reached our destination. And the way the Quest's steering felt on them.
Or, rather, the way it didn't.
That the Quest's electric-over-hydraulic power steering system isn't as good as many fully electric systems is somewhat surprising. But that's the case. Even Mr. Social Responsibility agrees — the Quest's steering is unencumbered by feel as its front tires approach their grip limit. Mercifully, they scream in protest so one is given some warning that things are going awry.
Even so, that didn't stop him from putting that Odyssey away in no time flat.
Welcome aboard! This is Captain Riz from the cockpit. I know this is probably your first flight and it's ... mine too. Ha ha. Well, it looks like we're going to have a smooth flight to Endor, or whatever three random places the computer now takes us. God I hope we don't go to the underwater Gungan world. That's so lame. I swear, I'm taking Jar-Jar out with the laser cannon this time. Any way, I'll go ahead and open the cockpit shield. I know our Nissan Quest Starspeeder can't quite carry the 40 people that the normal model can, but what it lacks in capacity it certainly makes up for in cupholders.
Ah, I see they're loading our navigator R2-D2 and then we'll be on our way. What could possibly go wrong? Certainly not comets. Comets!!!
May the Fourth be with you!
I took a mini vacation to La Quinta (the desert city in California, not the mid-range motel chain) with three friends over the weekend. Why such a big vehicle? Well, originally, there were going to be six of us, but at the last minute, the group shrunk to four but I already had our long-term 2012 Nissan Quest, so off we went.
We haven't even had the Quest six months, but it has already seen a lot of road trip duty — it went to Oregon with Dan's family and more recently took six adults to Vegas for Caroline's family reunion.
After this short trip, all I can do is agree with pretty much everything that has been said about the Quest: it's a fine road trip vehicle. Actually, I'll go farther. I don't think I've ever driven a minivan that was more suited to road trips (provided you don't need 8 seats). Here's why:
The ride quality is superb over most types of pavement (even in L.A.), and the cabin is exceptionally quiet. It was easy to participate in conversation with the passengers in the second row. The Odyssey and Sienna aren't this quiet.
I also was reminded that I think this is the best application to date of any continuously variable transmission (CVT). The ease with which you can put the pedal down to access a lower gear ratio range and get a few more revs from the 3.5-liter V6 for passing is just so nice. There's no waiting, no gearchange drama, the torque is just there when you want it. The six-speed automatic in the Sienna is good, but even it can't match the smooth transitions you get with the Nissan's CVT.
I can't say I'm a fan of the Quest's Toyo all-season tires, which howl through assertive left turns and detract from its braking ability — although our long-term van stopped better than an earlier Quest we tested with these tires. I know these tires may contribute to the van's ride quality, but if I owned it, I'd be looking for a grippier alternative when it was time to replace them.
Life was great inside the van as well. None of the friends agreed with my assessment that the Quest looks cool (or my contention that minivans in general are cool), but all liked our LE's accommodations and the sheer convenience of its power-operated doors. Everyone but the driver (me) dozed off in its leather captains chairs, and the triple-zone climate control eliminated any need to negotiate over the set temperature while keeping the whole cabin cool in near 100-degree temps. Of course, you can find these conveniences in any modern minivan, but the Quest's second-row captain's chairs are some of the most luxurious seats you'll come across in the minivan class.
I do wish the driver seat-bottom cushion was a little longer to support my thighs better. The Friday afternoon drive to La Quinta took five hours total (with three stops to pick up passengers), and by Hour 4, dead butt was starting to be an issue. The trip back took only three hours with stops, and I had no such complaint.
I've said this about other Nissans, and I'm going to say it again about our long-term 2012 Quest: I really like how Nissan organizes and displays almost all the information I really want to know during a road trip (other than basics like vehicle speed, engine rpm, of course) on the navigation screen.
At a glance, I can see:
- where I am on the map,
- what my next turn is,
- approximately how much traffic awaits on the route,
- the miles left to my destination,
- the approximate time left to my destination,
- the current time,
- the signal strength for my Bluetooth-connected mobile phone,
- and my current radio station, CD track or other media source
There are just two other bits of infomation I'd like to see here...
I wouldn't mind seeing an approximated battery life display for my phone (other systems show this).
More importantly (and specific to my life), I'd like to see the current score and inning on the bottom of the screen when listening to a baseball game on XM radio (i.e., LAD2 SF1 T5). Mind you, I can certainly get this info if I toggle to the satellite radio menu, but one neat/nerdy convenience in our TSX wagon, was that you could watch the map on the main screen and then see the score/inning on the small audio display below the nav unit. The Acura didn't integrate all the other info I listed above as tidily as the Nissan does... so I still prefer the Quest overall. The baseball score thing is more of a would-be-nice request.
Aside, I wasn't really bothered by the Quest's shifter location during my desert getaway. Yes, in "D" it obstructs the climate control system's off button and the audio system's power/volume knob. But I never had occasion to to turn off either system during eight hours of total driving time. And to adjust the volume, I mainly used the steering wheel toggle button.
"Finally, this seatbelt is perfect," said my 11-year-old daughter when she buckled the Nissan Quest's front seatbelt this morning.
I asked her what she meant, and she showed me how the shoulder harness adjustment slid low enough to bring the belt to the perfect level for her 4'10", 77-pound frame.
She hasn't been riding in the front seat all that long, and I wasn't even aware that she was so dissatisfied with the fit of the front belts. She had never complained about it before.
"Most of them feel like they're choking me," she said.
I know at 5'7", I immediately slide the adjustable shoulder harnesses to their lowest point, but I feel bad that I never before considered it from her shirmpy perspective.
The pull-straps on the backs of our 2012 Nissan Quest's 60/40 third-row seat don't get as much use as in other minivans — because our LE model has a power-fold feature (which we demo'd in a video) that does most of the manual labor for you.
The straps are a little longer than most straps of this variety, and for whatever reason, Nissan omitted the usual bits of velcro on the straps and the seat-backs to keep them secure when they're not in use.
It's a little thing, and I'm sure said velcro (as seen in our departed 2011 Sienna and 2011 Odyssey) would eventually cease to be sticky, but for the first 50,000 miles of the van's service life, it would save you the small hassle of fishing around in the cracks for wayward straps.
You can be certain about two things here at Inside Line. The first thing is, we do use the long-term minivans to haul a lot of stuff. Whether it be bicycles, metal, housewares or cookies, the minivans usually get the job done better than anything else. The second thing is, by the end of 12 months, and often more than 20k miles, we've successfully beat this subject to death, revived it and then shot it again - just to watch it die.
I figured I'd take a swing at this blog pinata, but instead of stuff, I used... me.
As minivans have storage wells for storing third row seating, when the seats are up those storage wells make a good, relatively non-life threatening place to sit and take pictures. And since our usual support vehicle was in for maintenance, I got the keys to the Quest.
So, what's it like in the trunk?
Well, it's not bad. It's not the biggest well in the business, but it is far enough below bumper height that I wasn't in danger of falling out. And although it isn't as wide as I'd like to be, it did allow me to wedge myself in pretty well. Another bonus is the lack of exhaust fumes that can tend to circulate back into the cabin when you drive with the hatch up like they do on some minivans - I'm looking at you, Honda Odyssey.
Things I could do without? Certainly the finicky storage well covers. Snaps and straps? Maybe in the 80's, but please, not today. And the second, albeit not a terribly real world complaint for most of you, is the incessant beep that goes off for the entire time the vehicle is moving with its hatch open. It's shrill and constant. It's so annoying it would be worth digging up the speaker for that thing and poking it out with a stick.
Otherwise, I liked it. I'd ride in the trunk again.
I happened to notice that the outside driver seat cushion bolster is showing some wear creases after nearly 15,000 miles. The problem is that due to the seat's elevated height (relative to say, a sedan's), everytime you get in or out you're squishing that bolster with your butt. And since it's leather upholstery, it starts to hold creases.
I suspect this is pretty common for a vehicle like a minivan, though. I was able to dig up a photo of our long-term Odyssey's seat (pictured right) and it looked pretty similar. But it does make me wonder what the Nissan's seat will look like after a few more years of hard use.
A fellow dad at my daughter's preschool was checking out our long-term Quest yesterday. He frequently drives his daughter to school in the pictured red Sienna. Twenty years ago we would have been comparing muscle cars or sport compacts. Now ... minivans.
I asked him what he thought of the Quest. "Well, it's ugly," he said. But I did show him the Quest's upscale interior and told him about it's impressive V6/CVT combo and nice ride. He seemed reasonably impressed.
Then he said, half jokingly: "So, want to race?" Ha! I had to politely decline, but remember you can see the Quest compared to the latest Sienna and Odyssey in our most recent Minivan Comparison Test.
We cleared 15,000 miles today for our Quest. They're piled on pretty quick; we got the van just five months ago. But the Quest has been put to good use with road trips (such as Dan's trip to Oregon), hauling stuff (Kelly's 80 cases of Girl Scout cookies) and general kid and/or family shuttle duty (Caroline's family trip to Vegas).
So far we've been to the dealer twice: once for the 7,500-mile service and once to take care of a engine stalling TSB. We'll be going back to the dealer pretty quickly to get the 15K service done. The on-screen oil change reminder popped up just at the right time.
Some friends of mine own a 2004 Nissan Quest, the first year of the previous (third generation) Quest. I thought it'd be interesting to see how the Quest has changed since, so I stopped by their house to get their opinion on their van and what they thought of our long-termer.
Since the wife (Nora) is the van's primary driver, I asked her most of the questions. Overall, she was pretty impressed with the new Quest. The biggest upgrade for her is the Quest's SUV-style third row seating, with seats that forward and flat into the floor rather than the more traditional, back-and-into-a-well design on older Quest (and Odyssey and Sienna). Now that she has three kids, she says it's often a hassle to deploy or stow the third row seat in her van because there's typically a lot of stuff (baby stroller, etc) in the cargo well area. With the new Quest, this isn't a problem.
The new Quest's third row is also 50/50 split, improving flexibility. The older Quest had a rear bench only. On her van, you also have to manually remove the third-row head restraints to lower the seat. For the new van, the head restraints stay put and don't interfere with the operation. Nora also observed how our Quest's flat cargo area behind the third row is a lot easier to change a baby's diaper on.
I did point out that this new seat design does cut back on maximum cargo space. The old van had 145 cubic feet of cargo space versus 108 for the new one. But since they use their Quest mostly for hauling kids, they didn't think it would be an issue.
There were other little details that stood out to Nora. Her van doesn't have a front center console, and the front cupholder design is lousy. As such, she liked our Quest's center console quite a bit. (I do believe the third-gen Quest eventually got a front center console, perhaps as part of the '07 refresh.) She also liked the easier access to the third-row seating, the double sunroofs (compared to the peculiar multi-panel skylight design of her van), the integrated sunshades for the sliding doors (works a lot better than aftermarket shades, which often get knocked off when one opens the door) and the 120-volt household power outlet.
Nora's husband (Barry) also showed me how their van's sliding power doors don't stop and return if they encounter resistance when closing, even with Barry leaning in and pushing hard on the door in an attempt to stop it from closing. His quote: "I would not want to get an arm caught in here." On our long-termer, there was no such problem. However, I don't know if this issue would apply to all earlier Quests or just theirs in particular. I'd like to think the latter.
Finally, I asked Nora if she would consider replacing her Quest with a new one. She did like all of the above aspects. However, she wasn't too keen on the Quest's exterior styling ("It's like all party up front but all business in back"). Also, she says she's pretty burned out on driving a minivan right now. So, no, probably not.
I've always liked the idea of auxiliary turn signals mounted in the side mirrors. It makes sense to put these lights where people can see them, especially on a van as big as the Quest.
The signals on the Quest's mirrors are a little bigger than usual, but it seems perfectly logical. This is a big van, it needs all the help it can get letting people know it's coming. Signals this size are as important a safety feature as the airbags inside and the driver behind the wheel. Even the best drivers miss a car in their blind spot once in awhile, but with signals like these at least they're a little less likely to surprise someone when they do.
Our long-term Nissan Quest (as well as our new long-term Jeep Cherokee SRT8) is equipped with a 120 volt AC outlet, or a plug, as you might call it around the home. It's a great feature. And I use it. All the time.
It's on the console, between the Quest's front seats.
Unless it's in use, the outlet is covered by this little spring loaded door.
To activate the outlet you flip this switch, which is located on the van's centerstack below the radio.
I've used the Quest's outlet many times to charge my phone, once to plug in a small vacuum and for my camera's battery charger.
I had the unenviable task of moving over the weekend, which meant, among other things, transporting my armada (or hoard, as someone recently called it) of bicycles.
So would six bicycles fit into the Quest?
Yes. You'll have to take my word for it, though, since I moved the bicycles at night and didn't bother with a photo.
Folded down the second and third rows, took the front wheel off of each bike and slid them in backward, three leaning toward one wall, three toward the other, padded with blankets and cinched with bungees.
No problem.
When I find myself in Trona, California, it's for one of two reasons.
1. I'm checking up on my international mining concern.
2. I've stopped with the rest of the Edmunds editors for a rest during our annual Fuel Sipper Smackdown, now in it's fifth iteration.
Think you know what's in this year's lineup?
So, any guesses?
It's not always easy being friends with Josh Jacquot. No, seriously, he can make it difficult. Like when he pulls one of his favorite stunts: Running a car to the point that its fuel readout says "zero miles remaining," or something to that effect. He loves that.
There was the time we were on our way back from mountain biking near San Diego, in a BMW X3 or X5 if I remember correctly. It was on empty before we entered the stretch of Interstate 5 North that goes through Camp Pendleton (where there are no exits for fuel, mind you), yet Josh just needed to see how far we could push it. "I bet BMW is conservative," he said.
Then there was the time...
we were on our way to Moab in a fuel-sucking Evo in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, the incredibly patient Mrs. Jacquot sleeping in the back seat, me sleeping in the front passenger seat, Josh at the wheel. I woke up to him explaining that we were on empty, had been for some time, and he just skipped what was the last exit for many miles. Why? He thought the Evo still had a few more miles in it. Sure, why not? Someone will come along to help us...in a few hours.
I don't always find it funny at the moment it's happening (like if I really need to be home by a certain time, and being stranded on the side of the road would be a serious inconvenience — when isn't it?), but looking back now, I just laugh at his weird desire to drive a car until it nearly runs out of gas. Good times, all.
So in honor of Josh I decided to push the envelope on the Quest's fuel window a bit over the weekend. At least I thought I was.
Apparently Nissan has caught onto the jackassery of people like Josh, as even though I ran it down to a theoretical zero miles of range remaining, there was still almost three gallons of fuel left in the tank when I filled it up. Of note, the last readout I remember before it turned to blank lines was 17 miles to empty.
Kurt's recent post showing the narrow opening afforded by the Quest's sunroof reminded me I had a shot of him attempting to find a suitable photo perch. We found a work around and he shot an incredible set of photos for Josh's comparison of the Mustang and Genesis Coupe.
Oh, and I also spotted 1of 105 Nissan Murano CrossCabriolets registered in California.
That's it, I have to say something: I'm so over all the nimrods we have here in southern California that think it's absolutely fine to block up the flow of traffic by just hanging out in the left lane.
It could drive a sane man crazy, so just think what it's doing to me?
Here's a good case in point: What is that Lexus GX 460 doing over in the left lane? He/she isn't passing anyone, so move over. Nope. So me and the Nissan Quest are forced to pass on the right.
The Hyundai Elantra? Just a sheep aimlessly following the herd. We've got a lot of those, too.
In my experience southern Californians are about as bad as they come in terms of left-lane hogs. Chalk it up to extremely poor driver upbringing. Yeah, that's right: I blame the parents. But maybe there are even worse states, I don't know.
The Quest is a big thing. The sunroof in the Quest, at least the one in the front, you know, over the important people, is not a big thing. It's tiny. Incidentally, that is as far as it will open no matter how many times you press and release the rocker switch for the sunroof.
Not that this will matter to most, but it's so narrow my shoulders wouldn't even fit through there. I guess the ejector seat will have to go in the second row.
This warning popped up on the way to drop our 2012 Nissan Quest off at the dealer for its 15,000-mile service. We took it back to Huntington Beach Nissan, which also saw it at the 7,500-mile interval. This visit was equally as pleasant as the last.
We made an appointment for 8am. When we arrived the porter greeted us at the door and led us to our advisor. It wasn't the same guy we saw last time. So as usual we started with our guard up. We anticipated his recommendations for a fuel system flush and premature cabin air filter replacement and politely declined both. He didn't push the issue.
Before we realized it 45 minutes had passed and our van was ready. The oil/filter change, tire rotation and inspections were complete. But the most entertaining part of our visit was still to come...
As I waited for the van to be pulled around the porter approached me.
Porter: What car are you waiting on, sir?
me: A Quest.
Porter: What color?
me: It's a silver Quest.
Porter: Oh yeah, that good looking one. Let me check on it.
Maybe I'm easily entertained, but this made me smile. Sometimes it's nice to hear people make the effort to tell you what they think you want to hear. At least when it's something innocent like this. If he knew how unattractive I find the Quest to be he may have responded differently. Still, I'm going to give him a point for customer service. We would return to this dealer again.
Total Cost: $45.83
Days out of Service: None
I love minivans. I've wanted to own a minivan since before I had kids (if I'm being completely honest, I wanted one before I was married, so maybe I'm weird). But, like a lot of people, I don't always like how large they feel from behind the steering wheel.
The Quest is a little smaller than the top-selling minivans, that is the perfect size minivan for me. I don't need to carry eight passengers (unlike the competition, it only seats seven) and I don't need ultimate-maximum cargo capacity.
It also doesn't feel enormous, like most of the other minivans. I love that the third row doesn't seem like it's in another zip code when I turn around or look in the rearview mirror. The Quest is a perfectly manageable minivan.
We're taking a family road trip in two weeks — two adults and two super chatty 11-year-old girls.
I've been trying to decide which car to take. Drive route begins in Southern California, and includes stops in Monument Valley, Utah, the Grand Canyon, and at the girls' request, Las Vegas.
I was initially set on the Nissan Quest, but then our long-term Infiniti JX35 arrived. The girls are still hoping for the minivan. Should their vote matter? They're already getting Vegas, afterall.
What should I choose?
This weekend I need a big car. A really big car. I needed to haul a six-foot long rug and four people to grandma's house.
A traditonal car was out, even a big sedan like our Audi A8L wasn't getting this job done. So I started looking at the crossovers we have. The Jeep Grand Cherokee SRT8 would get us to Grandee's the quickest, but it is way too small for this job.
The Ford Explorer and the Infiniti JX35 were serious possibilities, but my eyeball tape measure told me they were borderline biggable. I could have probably made either work, but I didn't want to have to fold or smash the carpet and then ask my wife for forgiveness. Remember, happy wife happy life.
So I turned to the Nissan Quest. The rug and people fit with room to spare. No muss. No fuss. No stress. Gotta love the minivan.
Fox News is reporting today that NASA's Voyager 1 spacecraft, launched in 1977, is nearing Insterstellar space. In other words, like the Quest's rear-view mirror, it's really, really, really far away. Unlike the Quest, however, the Voyager is traveling ten miles per second, once used rocket propulsion and has a back-up camera that failed 20 years ago.
That will be all.
I like the Quest's navigation system. Its interface is good, it's intuitive to use and it's got NavTraffic. Also, it's accuracy and reliability are both, in my experience at least, as good as any system sold today.
But today I discovered some funny disclaimers Nissan includes in the Quest's manual about potential accuracy problems.
A grid pattern road system? Really? Those seem awfully common.
A curvy road, too?
One might think that would pretty much cover it, but there are three or four other disclaimers about when the system's positional accuracy might be off. I love this stuff.
Anyway, I've never had a problem. The only place it doesn't work is underground — and that shouldn't surprise anyone.
Although most satellite steering wheel controls do the same thing from model to model, the way in which they're arranged and their level of complexity often varies widely. I like what Nissan has done with the Quest's mix of buttons.
You get your basic volume rocker switch, a button to answer the phone and a thumb rocker to move from track to track or make a selection. Then there's the always handy "back" button and a source button to let you go from AM talk radio to FM music to iPhone podcast. That's a lot of functionality packed into a relatively small and unobtrusive space.
This handy hook is located in the back of the Quest's cargo area. I used it yesterday to hang a single reusable cloth grocery bag containing a large bottle of orange juice, same size bottle of lemonade, and eight containers of yogurt.
Was that over 4 kg? I have no idea.
Does your brain think in kilograms or pounds?
Road Trip Ahead
Yep, it's officially summer, so I'm hitting the road with the family for a little driving vacation to Monument Valley, the Grand Canyon and whatever else looks interesting along the way.
Picking the Quest was a no brainer since it has more than enough room, a great DVD screen in back and comfortable seats up front. Checked all the fluids and aired the tires to the proper levels before heading out, so it should be smooth sailing, right? Let's hope so.
No surprise that our Nissan Quest is a great road trip vehicle, but I still learned a few things on our way to Monument Valley.
1. You can't have too many cupholders. Mainly because they're really good for holding just about anything. Sure, you might only have a few drinks going at one time, but you also need someone to stash spare change, a pair of binoculars and a big wad of napkins.
2. It's nice to have a real power outlet. The Quest has a 120V outlet in the center console that charges up phones and tablets way faster than your average USB port.
3. The CVT/V6 combo in this van works well for passing on the highway. Once it finds the sweet spot it just sits there until you've made your pass. I grew to like it.
4. Definitely make a reservation at The View hotel so you can have a scene like this when you look out your window in the morning.
Plenty more to come later.
After Monument Valley, we headed for the nearby Grand Canyon. It's a pretty incredible sight even if you've seen it before.
Unlike southern Arizona, the higher elevations up north mean cooler temperatures, so the Quest didn't have to work as hard to stay cool like our X3. Still, the climate control in general is pretty well designed and easy to use. It's three-zone control was particularly helpful as there was often one side in the sun.
By this time I had also come to appreciate the wireless headphones for the rear DVD system that allowed the kids to watch a movie while music plays up front. Made me wonder what I used to do in the back of our family's van on road trips all those years before DVD players.
Our 2-post Rotary Lift has been busy. Here's a look underneath our long-term Nissan Quest. Wait until you see where they put the spare tire.
After hundreds of miles, I'm not digging the Quest's cruise control system. The buttons themselves are fine. They're simple, easy to reach and easy to feel your way around. It's the way the system controls the van's speed that's annoying.
Call me spoiled, but I'm used to systems that bump the set speed in 1 mph increments every time you push the acc/dec switch. Some even jump in 5 mph increments if you hit it two times quick.
The Quest doesn't seem to work this way. Sometimes I push it quickly and nothing seems to happen. Other times I push and hold and then I get a big surge of power and a setting that's way too high. Maybe it is resetting in 1 mph increments but it sure doesn't feel like it.
My other small gripe is going downhill. Most systems are smart enough to control your speed on downhill sections, but in the Quest it will go several miles an hour over the set speed if you're not paying attention. Not a big deal, but another thing to keep an eye on when you're out on the interstate.
I hadn't made much use of the Quest's Overdrive Off button on the shift lever. Up until now, that is. The reason is twofold: First, I much prefer a true manual mode for downshifting to get engine braking. And second, I figured it only had an effect at highway speeds like most O/D off buttons on traditional automatics.
In actuality...
The CVT in the Quest will give some semblance of meaningful engine braking via the O/D Off button as low as 25 mph.
Now that I've realized that, I'm using it all the time. Not just for slowing the Quest on the highway and around town rather than hitting the brakes, but also to have good revs for attacking freeway on-ramp sweepers.
I'd still prefer manual shifting like in the Altima's CVT, but this is a semi-acceptable alternative.
Yep, that's a lot of traffic. Fun stuff, just one of the prices you pay to live in sunny southern California. Doesn't make it any better. Maybe you have a lot of traffic where you live, too.
Of course, with major clog-ups comes the occasional majorly irate driver. On any given day during my commute, I'm bound to see at least one "laid-back" Californian freak out on another driver.
Also fun.
And what is the average irate driver's response when they've been wronged by someone?
Give 'em the middle finger, of course. Which only causes more irateness between everyone involved.
Personally, I think giving someone the bird is the equivalent of saying, "Yep, I've given up, and here's proof that I don't have even one original thing left to say in life." Besides the fact it's rude, flipping someone off is just so incredibly predictable.
I'm sure you have your own way of letting another driver know they just did something incredibly boneheaded. Hopefully it's not the one finger salute.
Me? I like to give them an enthusiastic thumbs-up, sarcastic as it might be. It says, "Nice job, buddy," without saying "*%$# off."
Maybe we can all dial back the finger use out there. Maybe I'll even dial back the sarcasm.
There I was, sitting in the rear cargo area of our 2011 Nissan Quest taking blog photos, when the nerve endings in my back cried out, "That's hot." Not a Paris Hilton kind of that's hot. Wait, do people still talk about her? Did she really have that phrase trademarked? Focus, Mike. Focus. Something had burned me.
I turned around to find the culprit, this cargo light. As any nerd in his right mind would do, I grabbed the pyrometer. 128-degrees? That's hot. But it didn't stop there...
Really hot.
Here is the seat control switch in the cargo area of our 2012 Nissan Quest LE. Press it one direction, the seatback lowers. Press it the other and it raises. This isn't the first time we've acknowledged its usefulness. But it is the first time we've measured the benefit tangibly...
When the time comes to raise the seatback, there are two options.
Option one, lean forward and grab the strap to pull it up manually. It can be difficult if the strap is not stretched perfectly straight, as in the picture. The end of it rests 24 inches from the door opening.
Option two, utilize the button. It lifts the seat so the strap is easier to grab, just 16 inches away now. Note, the button will not raise the seat far enough for passengers to jump right in. It doesn't even get to 90 degrees. Manual seatback adjustment is still required.
Do you feel smarter now?
Minivans are not my thing. If there's one thing that will prove a guaranteed deterrent to single ladies, it's a guy driving a minivan; or pretty much any van, come to think of it. But there I was, driving our long-term Quest on a beautiful Sunday morning. I felt as unappealing to L.A. ladies as I ever have. I might as well have had open sores on my face.
Thankfully, this was only a temporary exile.
Last year, I bought a big 3D plasma TV, but I held onto my old first generation 42-inch plasma, too. On the rare occasion Niebuhr would bring his Xbox over and we'd have a dual-screen duel in Forza (also a big chick repellant), or when my new TV crapped-out, the old plasma pretty much sat in the corner gathering dust. So I decided to give this vintage 2001 TV to my sister and her family.
Plasmas have to be shipped upright, so I decided the Quest would be the best mode of transport. I was right. Kurt helped me lift and slide the TV into the second row, then I just secured it against the seats with a tie-down strap at the headrests. Those sliding side doors made the whole process incredibly easy, too.
As soon as we dropped off the TV, we bolted for the office to exchange the Quest for something a bit more inspiring. As much as minivans represent single-guy Kryptonite, it sure is useful having one at my disposal.
Over the weekend, our long-term Nissan Quest broke the 20,000-mile mark. That's pretty impressive, considering that we still have three more months before we're done with it. No doubt, using it as a vacation vehicle and camera van has helped. All told, the interior is holding up quite nicely.
I checked to Oh-d'oh! during a recent refueling and to my surprise, we've already exceeded our typical goal of 20,000 miles on our 2012 Nissan Quest LE. Apparently, the Quest has had a few outings since Mark Takahashi drove it. The interior is showing wear, or at the very least, grime on its interior. With all the photo shoots, track days, family vacations, and commuting it has provided, it never has a day off. It needs a day at the spa.
After 22,300 miles and about 10-months living with our long-term 2012 Nissan Quest I have concluded that it is the minivan for me. It's the one I would buy.
Not an easy decision. Our long-term Honda Odyssey and I got along fine and I very much enjoyed our long-term Toyota Sienna. But I'm happiest behind the wheel of the Nissan.
And that is the deciding factor for me. All three vans offer the features, all three vans have proven to be well-built, reliable transportation and all three vans are less then beautiful. But from the driver's seat, I like the Quest best and its suspension tuning is the majority of the reason.
While our long-term Odyssey at times felt underdamped and floaty and our Sienna SE occationally felt too stiff in an attempt to feel sporty, the Quest's suspension is tuned to perfection. Its ride is smooth and comfortable without any extra body motions or unnecessary harshness. Both around town and out on the interstate the Quest feels more like an expensive European sedan than a Japanese minivan.
This past weekend the Oldham's piled into the Quest for a quick 300 mile road trip to the Palm Springs area to see grandma and grandpa. It was just the kind of real world family outing minivans like the Nissan are designed and built for. During the excursion the van once again proved that it delivers awesome levels of function and utility, buckets of upscale luxury and convenience and just enough driving enjoyment and dynamic sophistication to keep dad happy behind the wheel.
That is not easy to do in one vehicle. Nissan should be proud of the Quest.
Some versions of the Nissan Quest are receiving a price cut for model year 2013.
It's the popular midrange models that get the savings. The Quest SV, which starts at $30,565 will cost $1,310 less. The SL model, which starts at $34,345 gets a break of $980.
We have the top-of-the-line LE model, which next year will get a price increase of $290. The base model Quest S will remain the same.
Oh, it looks like just another day at a slightly cruddy gas station in Long Beach, California, but today I topped up the pressure in our long-term 2012 Nissan Quest's tires. And I used the Easy-Fill tire pressure alert system. And I persuaded my spouse to make a video of the system in action so you can hear the horn honking at me to stop adding air.
How have we managed to drive this minivan over 22,000 miles without using this feature until now? Well, to activate Easy-Fill, you have to leave keyless remote in (or in very close proximity) to the Quest and then press the start button a couple times — once to engage Accessory mode, and then a second time to engage the "On" position (without starting the engine). Normally, of course, when we check tire pressure, we just turn the vehicle completely off and keep the key on us, so it's easy to forget the feature exists.
So once you're in "On," all you do is starting filling the tires and wait for the honk.
As you can hear, the horn honks once to let you know when you've hit the correct psi (which is 35 psi cold front and rear... and the tires were cold at the time of this fill). Keep going as I did for demonstration purposes and you eventually get a more urgent series on honks. This gas station is in a moderately noisy area, and I didn't have any trouble hearing the horn... I subsequently show you air being added to a second tire and you'll note that I respond to the initial honk and stop adding air immediately.
The system also flashes the parking lights when you initially start filling a tire, but I didn't really find this necessary or helpful, and I obviously couldn't see this happening when adding air to the rear tires.
Now I had my favorite pressure gauge with me, and when I checked the pressure on the tires I had overfilled (yes, for demonstration purposes), it appears that the urgent honks typically set in after you're 5 psi over — the affected tires were all around 40 psi. I let some air out until the tires were back down to 35 on my gauge, though a Nissan insider tells me I may still have left in a smidge too much air, as the Quest apparently gives another single-honk notification when you get the psi back down to the correct spec. So. I didn't wait quite long enough. Then again, slight overinflation is no bad thing in my book.
The verdict? I like Easy-Fill. Although I usually carry a tire pressure gauge with me, this audible notification system speeds up the process of adding air — by eliminating the need to double-check with a gauge — and I will use it again the next time I'm in a current-gen Quest, Leaf, 2013 Altima or 2013 Pathfinder.
Mind you, high-quality gauges certainly have their place in situations where precision is critical (during track testing, track days on a road course, etc.), but when you're just adding air to a civilian vehicle like the Quest, I can't see any reason not to take advantage of this convenience.
Adding air to the tires in our long-term 2012 Nissan Quest is easy. Checking the oil isn't easy at all.
There's still a conventional dipstick, and it's located near the front edge of the engine compartment, but it's buried a couple inches down. As a result, you're not going to want to reach for it during a 5- to 10-minute fuel stop lest you burn your hand. And even after everything's cooled down, it's hard to reach it without getting your hands dirty.
Putting the dipstick back in isn't easy, either, as the filler tube is set an angle, and the dipstick itself is flexy so that it can slither into place. When the light is low, as in a garage, you'll need a flashlight (or your phone) to see it back into place.
With this setup, Nissan is pretty much ensuring that only the geekiest Quest owners will check their oil between maintenance visits. I'm sure someone there has data on the small percentage of minivan owners who actually pop the hood, but still, burying the dipstick makes it a self-fulfilling prophecy.
This is one of my all-time favorite comments: "The Edmunds staff drive everything like it's a rental car."
From the bottom of my heart, I know it's not true (although I did park on the sidewalk to take this photo). Then again, I bear no ill will to rental cars, either. Last time I rented a car, a regular car, paying it for with with my own money, I scored a 2012 Ford Focus hatchback. Its backseat was already cruddy and I had to designate that a no-go zone, but otherwise I liked it and I treated it well.
Yet, I have to concede I have an unofficial policy that I've quietly appled to certain vehicles in our long-term fleet for years. And last week, a more senior editor called me on it.
"Why don't you drive the Nissan Quest tonight?"
"Oh... I can't."
"Why not?"
"Hmm, well, I don't drive any of our vehicles that have three rows of seating once they pass 20,000 miles."
"Why is that?"
"Oh, well, at that point, everyone's kids have been in them, and cracker crumbs are ground into the carpets and seats, and the steering wheel and shifter and door handles are usually covered in a sticky film. And I don't know what I'm going to find in all the storage slots. Also, quite often, they smell like diapers."
"You are crazy."
"Probably, but that's how I roll."
The conversation went on for a while, and various coworkers offered opinions on the minivan lifestyle and diagnosed me as an irrational germophobe. The more senior editor got the last word.
"You're driving the Quest. Or you're taking the bus."
So I drove our long-term Nissan Quest. The cabin is still in good shape but definitely not pristine (when is light carpeting ever a good idea?), and I'll be discussing that in my next post.
What struck me, though, is that despite the veneer of family in its cabin, our Quest is still really good to drive. I remember liking this van in our last minivan comparison test (where it was up against a revamped Odyssey and Sienna), and those feelings haven't faded.
The Nissan feels a little sleepier in the handling and braking departments than either of those rival vans, but I think the difference can be written off to its tires — Toyo A22s — which never had any grip even when they were new. But the way the Quest rides is really something. There's a level of compliance and sophistication to it that the other minivans can't match (at least not in their current-generation state).
There's also some weight in its steering that I really like. I don't know that I find it any more precise than the Odyssey's much lighter steering, but there's a meatiness here that's kinda nice, yet it doesn't seem to cross the line to "heavy for heavy's sake."
Finally, the CVT. It's not perfect. Particularly when you're parking in a tight space and just want to creep forward ever so slightly... it pretends not to hear me in those situations. But on the freeway, this transmission works really well. You don't wait around for downshifts, and when the CVT reaches for its lower ratios, it doesn't upset the tranquility in the cabin.
What all this is leading up to is that yesterday, I signed out our 2012 Nissan Quest for the weekend just because I wanted to. Mind you, I like vans (well, I like them before anyone's kids get into them). But ever since last week, I've had a mild craving for the Quest, simply because I enjoy driving it. I'll just wear gloves this time.
As we've reported here, our 2012 Nissan Quest locks out nearly all functions that aren't critical to the mission of driving while the van is moving. Want to open the liftgate or either of the sliding doors? You better be stopped and in Park.
On Friday evening, I was headed home and came upon all kinds of Endeavour-related gridlock on my normal freeway route. I needed to find an alternate route on surface streets, but I moved only a few months ago and wasn't sure exactly which roads to choose. I wanted the navigation system's help, but I didn't want to pull over to get it.
So I hit the voice control button on the steering wheel.
Now I realize that voice control is a given whenever you order a factory navigation system these days. And indeed the order of entering information with the Quest's voice control is pretty typical.
First, you indicate you want navigation help; then, you say "Address" (I later tried "Places" to locate a gas station). Then, you go through the steps — state, city, street name, house/street number — and then confirm with a "Calculate Route" command. I then went into the Settings menu (which is still available while the Quest is moving) and selected the "Avoid Freeways" option.
But the Quest's system processes your requests so quickly and has such robust speech recognition that I totally don't mind entering addresses by voice, rather than keying them in, because it really doesn't take any more time. (Searching for POIs is another matter, of course, but most dedicated nav systems aren't good at finding businesses with the specificity I want, so it's almost always better to look them up on a phone beforehand.)
If I was buying a used Quest, I would definitely look for one with the factory nav unit, because I like this interface a lot. Plus, if you don't get nav, you still end up with a large screen in the dash — it's just a lot less useful.
A couple caveats:
(1) I didn't have much success entering a house number like 1620 by saying "sixteen twenty," but saying "one-six-two-zero" worked every time.
(2) When you say "calculate route," route is pronounced in the less common "root."
Earlier this summer, when the Girl Scout council announced the dates for the Greater L.A. Girl Scout Camporee weekend, the first thing I did was make sure our Nissan Quest would still be in the long-term fleet.
Camporee in late October, Quest with us until December. Whew.
Now, as the time nears when 6,000-plus girls will be descending on a Southern California recreation area (yes, Riverside, San Bernardino, San Diego and Orange Counties, you'll wanna plug your ears), I've tentatively added a Nissan NV to my master transportation plan.
Moving eight girls, two "enthusiastic" volunteer adults, tents, tables, chairs, coolers, cooking equipment, sleeping bags, backpacks, and likely a bottle or two of sparkly nail polish, 75 miles during peak rush hour L.A. traffic requires a master plan.
Here comes the true test of my packing skills.
Of course I know these seats are not really sourced from the Swedes, But given how they similarly manage to provide sink-in plushness along with proper back and thigh support, one could hardly blame me for feeling this way. Kudos to Nissan for also including an angle adjustment feature for the flip-down inboard armrests.
Unless you're an automotive journalist you may not relate to this problem — a problem that the 2012 Nissan Quest does not have, mind you. On the other hand this issue could very well be a source of frustration for those of you that own multiple vehicles from the same carmaker.
I'm talking about Bluetooth connections, and the generic and largely unchangeable names assigned to them by automakers. On you're phone you're looking for a branded Bluetooth connection name like Car Multimedia, Car Audio, BlueConnect, HandsFreeLink, Sync and others when you synch up or manage your connections.
Such default names wind up being the same if you pair your phone to two or more vehicles of the same brand. Later on it's hard to tell which connection refers to the sedan, which one belongs to the truck.
Some carmakers — less than 25%, I reckon — provide a way to rename a car's Bluetooth connection so you can easily tell which connection is which when poking around on your phone. Nissan/Infiniti is one of them.
Nissan's corporate generic Bluetooth connection name is MY-CAR, and if you want to leave it at that, be my guest. But if you want to distinguish one Infiniti or Nissan in your garage from another, the thing to do is look for the "Edit Bluetooth Info" command in the Settings/Bluetooth menu.
When you get to that screen you'll see a place to change your Bluetooth password, but just below that is a place to change the Device Name, aka the name of your car as far is your phone is concerned. Click on that and you get ...
... a QWERTY keyboard that lets you delete the old name and replace it with whatever you want.
Here it's pretty clear which of these conntections belong to our Infiniti JX35 and Nissan Quest. The others are anyone's guess.
Maybe managing multiple connections means little to you. OK, I get that. But this naming feature does have another application for a completely different subset of car owners: folks who like to name their cars. With this they can burn that name into the car's memory and have it appear on their phone.
As I started our 2012 Nissan Quest in the parking garage I was greeted with this prominent oil change reminder on the navigation screen. I had to click the "OK" button before it would go away. Incidentally, the "change this setting" part refers to a user defineable oil change interval.
But that wasn't the only reminder that the Quest served up.
Turns out the oil filter needed changing, too.
Really? Glad you told me that, Mr. Quest, otherwise I would have totally blown it.
Seriously, do you know anyone that crawls under their car to drian the oil but leaves the filter in place for a second round? Someone that tells the dealer or mechanic "Oil only today — the filter was just changed last time."
I certainly don't and won't. Methinks just one unified "Oil & Filter" reminder would do the job.
The morning after I climbed behind the wheel of our 2012 Nissan Quest and first saw the oil change (and filter and tire rotation) warnings, I did what Nissan probably intended; I headed for the nearest Nissan dealer.
But it wasn't as easy as that.
First, where is the nearest Nissan dealer, anyway? I went straight to the navigation system looking for a "nearest Nissan dearler" hot button in the POI list, but found nothing. So I typed "Nissan" into the POI "nearest to my location" search box, and it came back with list of 3 or 4 dealers, the closest of which was 11.8 miles away.
"That's not right," I grumbled.
So I turned to my iPhone and searched for "Nissan" and was rewarded with 3 choices that were less than 10 miles away. How had the iPhone beaten the navigation system? The closest iPhone result was "Stadium Nissan", and the navigation system hadn't found it because the first word in my search wasn't "Stadium". When I studied the navigation system list I noticed it had only returned results along the lines of "Nissan of <insert name here>."
Things didn't go much better when I finally got to Stadium Nissan, where I backed out of the service drive and headed home with the old oil still aboard after a couple of minutes.
As has already been established, the Quest needed nothing more than an oil change and tire rotation. So I pulled into the clearly marked Express Lane, which according to my understanding is a way for dealers to recover business lost to places like Jiffy Lube.
"Name?" asked the service writer, looking at his clipboard — before "Hello" or "Good Morning" I might add.
"Huh?" I stammered before catching on. "Oh, I don't have a reservation. I only need an oil change and rotation. I'm here for the Express service," I continued while pointing at the sign over our heads.
"Yeah, well," he replied, "we're kind of busy. Let me go ask my manager."
After a brief huddle out of earshot he came back with the news.
"It'll be at least and hour and 45 minutes."
"Did you say an hour OR 45 minutes?" I asked hopefully.
"No. An hour AND 45 minutes, maybe more."
My vision of sitting in the dealer's waiting room, thumbing casually through an old magazine while trying not to listen to the blare from the TV was good for 30 minutes, maybe 45 tops. Their definition of "Express" was hopelessly out of line with mine. That I would need a reservation never even crossed my mind.
"No thanks. I'll handle it some other time."
Some other time indeed. I would have bought a filter and some oil on the way home and handled it myself within the hour but my parents were due in from out of town in a couple of hours and I needed to clean up, not oil down.
Our 2012 Nissan Quest has become something of a designated tire carrier. And why not? Flop the seats down, load up and lock down and you've got secure, dry storage that a pickup bed can't match.
Of course we do have to worry about scuffing up the tan interior. (Never get the tan interior.)
Which is why we perched the four new Sumitomo tires for our Jeep Grand Cherokee SRT8 atop four cardboard boxes containing wheels and tires for another long-term vehicle to be named later.
The Quest's fold-down second row proved its worth yet again — no seat removal and garage storage necessary. But here you can also see how much vertical package clearance this strategy gives up. That folded seat is about 10 inches thick. In other minivans that would be extra distance to the load floor.
We haven't run into a problem with this just yet, but I have hauled stuff in my own minivan a few times that would be too tall for the Nissan Quest.
As always, your mileage may vary.
Me n' my best Girl Scouts are going camping this weekend so I signed out the dependable Nissan Quest. No better large vehicle in our fleet for moving maximum people in comfort.
But what I needed was an additional vehicle to handle all of the gear.
In a few short hours I'll be doing my best to fill up this Nissan NV cargo van. I'm not sure a weekend's worth of camping gear is going to make a dent in its roomy hollows.
Lake Perris is only 70 miles from home, but it might as well be the far side of the earth.
Caravanning with a Nissan Quest full of girls, an NV full of gear, and a mighty Toyota Prius bringing up the rear, we made the trek there on Friday afternoon, and back a mere 48 hours later.
The shoe-polished Quest earned its share of honks — the girls clamoring for attention.
I'm not sure how we would have done it without the NV. I mean, seriously. It was just a weekend trip.
Ninety minutes after I pulled into the service drive, our long-term Nissan Quest pulled out of the wash bay, and I watched across the parking lot as four guys quickly wiped it down.
The cashier called my name and said the total for the oil change and filter, plus tire rotation was an even $65, for which I handed over my credit card.
I happily pitched my lukewarm mocha from the dealer's complimentary coffee machine, and walked out to meet the Quest.
Finally, we're able to squeeze another attempt at an oil change and tire rotation into the Nissan Quest's busy schedule.
No appointment, but the very helpful service writer at Hooman Nissan, Michael, says he can have the service completed, plus wash the shoe polish off the Quest's windows in an hour or so.
I have plenty of work to do for the SEMA show, so I'm happy to wait it out.
Do minivan buyers really care about a three-passenger second row? I don't know, but the Quest doesn't offer one and it's outsold by its Odyssey and Sienna competitors. That likely owes to other factors as well; less cargo volume, love-or-loathe styling. My wife says a second-row bench is not only practical for kid hauling, but also when carrying large items - bag, box etc - that benefit from the extra stability of a seat and seatback (she also says the gaps around a center console are black holes for crumbs and wrappers).
I see her point. Bench seats are also great for curling up and catching some Z's. I tried a mock nap in the Quest second row and, actually, if you just threw a thin air or foam cushion over the center console (or the whole row), you'd be fine.
I'm curious why Nissan doesn't offer the eight-passenger option in the U.S, unlike the ElGrand model in Japan. With a middle seat option, you essentially offer two vans and extend the service life of a family's van. Two bench rows while kids are young, two captain's chairs for when they're older, at each others throats and can't share the same contact patch of seating. Our Quest is set up for that later phase, or as a luxury for adults in a business shuttle or vanpool.
I don't consider this a deal-breaker in the Quest. The rest of the van is too good. But it would make me wait it out, to see if the next refresh or generation offers the additional seat. Or it would just drive me into the seats of a new Grand Cherokee, 5-passenger limit and all.
I volunteered to convoy with Monticello into the adult film badlands of the San Fernando Valley the other day. He needed to drop his track car at a shop for some work. We wound our way into a residential neighborhood and found the place, and when Mike disappeared around the back alley for what seemed like too long, I thought sure he was a goner. He'd either stumbled into a new career or a bad meth deal.
I wanted no part of it and stared making tracks. The sweet Nav Lady inside the Quest asked me a series of questions in a clear, reassuring tone and calculated a route back to the office. The input and routing was pretty quick and flawless. The Quest doesn't let you input new destinations while driving, but it made more sense to speak my intentions anyway rather than peck at the dial and Enter button, even if parked.
She wasn't quick enough, though. Monti eventually emerged, no entourage, no bloody nose, no bag of cash. Total letdown.
Recently, Oldham and I were compiling one of the monthly fuel economy updates. The question came up: which grade of fuel does our longterm 2012 Nissan Quest use?
It's 87 octane, but the question had me thinking about the other Nissan corporate product in our fleet that uses the same powertrain as the Quest, but requires premium.
Both the Quest and our longterm 2013 Infiniti JX35 use Nissan's VQ35 3.5-liter V6 and CVT transmission. Ostensibly the exact same hardware plunked into a different package.
I started wondering why it is the case that one requires premium fuel and the other does not. And for some reason, I started hearing the voice inside your head:
"Well," you're thinking, "the JX probably makes oodles more power than the Quest as a result."
Not so much. The JX is rated just 5 hp and 8 lb-ft more than the Quest. Not exactly a huge difference, especially when we're dealing with a 260 hp engine as installed in the Quest.
"Well," you're thinking, "the JX probably returns significantly better fuel economy than the Quest as a result."
Nope. The Quest returns 19/24 city/hwy mpg. The FWD JX? 18/24.
"Well," you're thinking, "the JX probably weighs significantly more than the Quest. That's why its city fuel economy is a bit lower."
JX35 AWD: 4544 lb. Quest: 4592 lb.
"Well," you're thinking, "at 5.173, the JX's final drive is shorter than the Quest's 4.878. That's why its city fuel economy is a bit lower."
That's true, but the JX uses a larger rolling diameter tire package that nullifies its shorter final drive. The gearing between the JX and the Quest is effectively identical as a result.
"Well, WTF?"
Yes, WTF, indeed. So, I inquired with Infiniti as to why the JX requires premium. Maybe there's a big jump in output elsewhere in powerband that doesn't show in the peak numbers, I proposed. Here's the response from Infiniti:
"The Infiniti JX is programmed to run on premium. Smoother response, maximum power and torque. In their words, it helps give the 'Infiniti-ness the customer expects.'
If one chooses to put regular fuel in the Infiniti JX, power and torque will decrease slightly. Not necessarily exactly to the point you mentioned in the minivan offered by our corporate, mainstream brand, but it will decrease slightly.
As for that minivan, it’s programmed to run and be happy with regular. Quite the opposite of the Infiniti JX, however, in that if one does put premium fuel in it, it doesn’t increase power and torque. Therefore, in effect, the customer is wasting their money by putting premium in that vehicle."
From what I can translate, the JX does indeed see a benefit to premium in off-peak parts of the powerband, but the Quest does not. I don't quite understand why this would be the case — perhaps the Quest's exhaust has more backpressure and/or its intake is somewhat more restrictive. Yeah, it's not a terribly satisfying conclusion. Any theories?
I am not a wuss.
That's the message you send when you pull into the park Saturday morning with this stroller in the back of your mylifeisovermobile. It wholly cancels whatever stereotype bystanders might have cooked up about your manhood when the Quest's slab sides first met their gaze.
And then, as you deploy and assemble the world's most badass stroller, you prove it. You might drive a minivan. You might have two girls. You might even be selling this spectacular piece of baby-carrying art, but you most certainly are not a wuss.
In late August, our 2012 Nissan Quest broke 20,000 miles. Now, nearly three months later, we've crossed the 25,000 mile mark.
In that time we've had the 22,500-mile service completed, hit Palm Springs, and went camping with some Girl Scouts.
We've only got another few weeks left with the Quest so it's unlikely we'll topple 30, but still, 25,000 aint not bad. I think we like driving this thing.
We're just a few days away now from saying goodbye to our Nissan Quest.
I'm sad.
Who's gonna help me deliver a big box of miscellaneous Christmas lights to the Riches-Wong house, and pick up a big bucket of floor sealant and new sub-floor for my laundry room along the way?
I was about to compose a blog to compliment our 2012 Nissan Quest on its ability to manage glare in all situations. Then the freeway turned and the sun washed out half of the dash, and most importantly, the navigation screen. So I'm going to instead compliment the Quest on its ability to manage glare in most situations. Its hard to do. That sun, well, it's bright.
Wrap-Up
What We Got
The Nissan Quest "is on the verge of becoming a segment leader," we wrote following its 2nd-place finish in our 2011 minivan comparison test. Not coincidentally, we already had the two other podium finishers of that comparison in our long-term fleet. We looked forward to side-by-side drives in the three minivans.
A top-tier 2012 Nissan Quest LE was the appropriate choice for this test. It afforded us an opportunity to test all this minivan line had to offer in one package. We passed over the S ($27,750), SV ($31,050) SV and SL ($34,500) trims for our LE. The Quest LE had a starting MSRP of $41,350 at the time of this test.
All trim levels shared a 260-horsepower, 3.5-liter V6 engine and continuously variable transmission (CVT). Unique to the LE, and in addition to all standard equipment found on lower level trims, were xenon headlights, a blind-spot warning system, navigation, rear entertainment, 13-speaker Bose stereo and a handful of upgraded seat features. We added the optional dual-opening moonroof ($1,350), carpeted floor mats ($205) and roof rails ($350). All told, our 2012 Nissan Quest LE had an MSRP of $44,065.
In our garage, utility elevates minivans to instant popularity. So we expected the Quest odometer to spin freely during our test. And it did, to the tune of 26,542 miles, well above our 20,000-mile goal. Here is what we found during our year with the 2012 Nissan Quest.
Our Impressions
"The Quest's CVT transmission was impressive, too, despite two large grades to climb and numerous semis to pass. More than any other company, Nissan has CVT software figured out. There's just enough rev change in normal driving to make it seem like a regular transmission. It never gives off that drony, rubber band feeling common to many other CVTs. Yet there is no busy shifting when climbing slopes and no harsh double downshifts when pulling out to pass. This CVT is remarkable in that it doesn't seem like a CVT until it needs to behave like one." — Dan Edmunds
"...back to the engine. It's fantastic. Sounds good, feels powerful at nearly any speed and has little trouble launching this sizable van into traffic. Dodge may have its own 'man van,' but this Quest would hold its own in a minivan stoplight showdown. Not sure such events ever happen, but if they did the Quest would be ready." — Ed Hellwig
"Step on the throttle in the Quest and it goes. Right now. No waiting, regardless of the situation. Rapid response isn't something I would ever have thought would be important in a minivan until I had it. And now I can fully appreciate a van that goes when asked. Hammer it from 60 mph to make a pass and it accelerates. Immediately. Do the same in the Sienna or Odyssey and guess what happens first? The car slows down — yes, it decelerates — while the transmission finds the right gear, selects it (often with a huge surge to the powertrain and lots of noise) and then it begins to accelerate. Not so in the Quest." — Josh Jacquot
"My favorite thing about our long-term Quest, by far, is its drivetrain.... The CVT that Nissan switched to on this generation changes everything.... My second favorite thing about this van is totally superficial: I love the exterior design. The Quest looks like it's related to any number of minivans, large and small, that I've seen in Japan. I have such a soft spot for JDM vans.... I have yet to meet anyone who's lukewarm on the styling of 2011 and later Nissan Quests. They either agree with me or they think I'm off my rocker." — Erin Riches
"Any homeowner who has ever visited Lowes or Home Depot knows ours is an 8-foot world. Trouble is, the Quest, despite its commodious outward appearance, is a 7-foot vehicle. As much as I prefer driving it and sitting in it for long distances, compared to a Toyota Sienna or Honda Odyssey, this shortcoming is enough to keep the Quest off my shopping list. It can't provide what I consider one of the primary benefits of minivan ownership." — Dan Edmunds
"Inside the cabin are ultra-plush seats, and even the door armrests and adjustable seat armrests proved soft, all-day perches for your elbows. Supple is exactly what I'm looking for when driving a minivan. I just want to kick back in quiet comfort and be thoroughly relaxed whenever I get to where I'm going. The Quest does this perfectly." — Mike Monticello
"Strong head- and crosswinds belted us wherever we went all day, but the Nissan didn't seem to notice and tracked straight and true. In fact, the Quest's steering is emerging as a strong suit. It's nicely weighted, precise (but not to a nervous and oversensitive degree) and the on-center position is well defined. And the steering rim has a nice heft to it." — Dan Edmunds
"This is nothing like the usual minivans that have third-row seats that fold back on themselves into a low well with removable middle seats and a low load floor ahead. The Quest can't touch the low liftover of something like the 2008 Honda minivan, which has tons of deep well space.... Nissan does this in order to make second row removal unnecessary, and by design, impossible. I don't think that's a worthwhile trade-off. My family of four has previously been able to pack our luggage for a week-long summer Oregon trip in the space shown above. That's impossible in the Quest." — Dan Edmunds
"After 22,300 miles and about 10 months living with our long-term Quest I have concluded that it is the minivan for me. It's the one I would buy.... Our long-term Odyssey and I got along fine and I very much enjoyed our long-term Sienna. But I'm happiest behind the wheel of the Nissan. All three vans have the features, all three vans have proven to be well-built, reliable transportation and all three vans are less than beautiful. But from the driver seat, I like the Quest best and its suspension tuning is the majority of the reason.... Its ride is smooth and comfortable without any extra body motions or unnecessary harshness. Both around town and on the interstate the Quest feels more like an expensive European sedan than a Japanese minivan." — Scott Oldham
"If I had to choose between our Odyssey, Quest and Sienna to drive every day, I'd pick the Quest. At first, there's nothing dramatic that stands out about it. But there are some little things that combine to make it pretty enjoyable. For one, the Quest drives smaller than it really is. The Quest's responsive CVT comes into play here, as the van is always willing to move out smartly when I ask it to.... Rear outward visibility seems better, too, which could be due to the Quest's boxier shape.... The other thing that strikes me about the Quest is that it's just nicer inside. There aren't any cheap interior materials like in our Sienna or a convoluted dashboard design like our Odyssey. The switchgear is high quality and the navigation interface is excellent. These are the things that you have to interact with every day." — Brent Romans
"She's like Siri, without the creepy auto-tune.... I started making tracks. The sweet Nav Lady inside the Quest asked me a series of questions in a clear, reassuring tone and calculated a route back to the office. The input and routing was pretty quick and flawless. The Quest doesn't let you input new destinations while driving, but it made more sense to speak my intentions anyway rather than peck at the dial and Enter button, even if parked." — Dan Frio
"When it comes to the telematics system in the Quest, versatility is the key. Most features are accessible in multiple ways. Common controls for navigation, phone and audio are available using hard buttons, touchscreen buttons or voice controls. Why can't every manufacturer do this? This is a good system, and in many ways, an example of how to do it right." — Mike Schmidt
Maintenance & Repairs
Regular Maintenance: The 2012 Nissan Quest politely requested routine service at 7,500-mile intervals and was otherwise tight-lipped when it came to maintenance. The van was worry-free during our term of ownership. We averaged a manageable $64 per scheduled visit to the dealer for oil changes and tire rotations. No breakdowns. No drama.
Service Campaigns: A service campaign to remedy a potential stalling issue was our only run-in with the recall police. During a regular maintenance visit the dealer updated the ECM, which effectively reprogrammed the fuel pump control module.
Fuel Economy and Resale Value
Observed Fuel Economy: We averaged 19 mpg during our test. The open highway, of which our Quest saw plenty, facilitated up to 24 mpg and a single-tank best of 377 miles. At its worst, the V6 returned as low as 19 mpg.
Resale and Depreciation: One year ago Nissan delivered a $44,065 Quest LE to our garage. After 26,000 miles Edmunds' TMV® Calculator valued the van at $29,241. This calculation was based on a private-party sale.
Depreciation of 34 percent suggested a weak market for used minivans. But comparisons to our recently departed 2011 Toyota Sienna (22 percent over 23,000 miles) and 2011 Honda Odyssey (18 percent over 20,000 miles) hinted that, among this trio, the lack of interest was unique to the Quest.
Summing Up
Pros: This Quest has a strong V6 paired to the best CVT in the business. Comfort, interior durability and reliability were great. These are qualities we look for in a minivan.
Cons: Its exterior design was off-putting to most. Resale value was lower than its competitors. The non-removable seat configuration limited cargo capacity somewhat.
Bottom Line: After a year with the 2012 Nissan Quest we highly recommend it as one of the best minivans on the market. The only downside was its above-average depreciation.
| Total Body Repair Costs: | None |
| Total Routine Maintenance Costs: | $191.77 (over 12 months) |
| Additional Maintenance Costs: | None |
| Warranty Repairs: | ECM reflash |
| Non-Warranty Repairs: | None |
| Scheduled Dealer Visits: | 3 |
| Unscheduled Dealer Visits: | None |
| Days Out of Service: | None |
| Breakdowns Stranding Driver: | None |
| Best Fuel Economy: | 24.2 mpg |
| Worst Fuel Economy: | 11.9 mpg |
| Average Fuel Economy: | 11.8 mpg |
| True Market Value at service end: | $29,241 (private-party sale) |
| Depreciation: | $14,824 (34% of original MSRP) |
| Final Odometer Reading: | 26,542 miles |
The manufacturer provided Edmunds this vehicle for the purposes of evaluation.