The Mitsubishi pick-up has “Barbarian” in lights across every conceivable surface. It is incredibly beefy and, in the wrong hands, indeed a barbarian. You could back into an innocent Zafira as easily as turning on the radio. The parking camera is worse than useless, slow to respond and, in consequence, wrong about almost everything. But you don’t get a pick-up because it’s easy to park. You get it if you need to pick up a lot of stuff. It’s too large to get into a city dump without a licence, so it’s not your amateur’s pick-up. This is a planner’s pick-up.
In rear-wheel drive, it is a bit like a tractor. The gear stick carries on shaking as you turn off the engine. It makes so many noises, I kept thinking there was a police car behind me. “Even the windows are too loud,” said a haughty seven-year-old from the back. Modern cars, I realised, try to mask the raw mechanics, and there is none of that here. Anything you can’t hear, you can feel vibrating. Primary ride events come at you like a fairground attraction: if you can see a crater coming, you know you’re going to feel it. But secondary ride events are significant, too: a seam in the road you wouldn’t even see will knock you around like a squally wind. It’s like driving a shed. “Why are these cowardly cyclists scattering before me?” I asked my mister. “Have you seen the size of yourself?” he replied.
Indeed, it’s so heavy that the determining factor in performance is not engine size but gravity: going down the slightest incline, you can be in fourth at 20mph and not even feel it. Going uphill, you have to floor it in third just to get on to a slip road.
I was so high up in the cabin, I was at eye level with white vans and other pick-ups. You sort of acknowledge each other – it’s hard not to – and I nod, trying to imagine what it would be like if I really were working. Apparently, these are very popular with American agents (it’s an ironic thing: “Any normal person would be in a Hummer; we could afford one, but prefer this”) and with Islamic State (along with the Toyota Hillux and Mitsubishi Warrior).
In the absence of a higher ironic purpose or an ideological war, it made sense to me only with a party of 10-year-olds on the flatbed, screaming their way around a car park in Surrey Quays (which I definitely did not do, but was hypothetically hilarious). It is neither a city car, nor a country car. It’s a working car, like a working dog: not as charming as a regular one, but more impressive.
Mitsubishi L200 Barbarian: in numbers
Price £28,558.80
Top speed 111mph
Acceleration 0-62mph in 10.4 seconds
Combined fuel consumption 42.8mpg
CO2 emissions 173g/km
Eco rating 5/10
Cool rating 8/10
