Oh my God. I would have preferred it in a toy color like army green, but black with red mud flaps is also not wrong. My entire social network melts with me. Everyone wants it, the Suzuki Jimny. Not for what he is; for how he looks. Here is a miniaturized Mercedes G-class that regained its childish innocence during the shrinking process. See that brave looking forward to a game of sand bites and water treading! The last off-road vehicle with that charm was the Lada Niva.

What a sweetheart, say men and women, and admit it; Few look so sweet with those round headlights in that freshly polished adventurer’s face. The dead straight windscreen and the upright side windows seem to have been cut out of a cardboard box like coarse peepholes. The spare wheel is old-fashioned glued to the side opening tailgate. A children’s drawing on wheels is the Jimny, created in a fit of bluntly naive tenderness after the Jungian archetype of the car. Archetype. He is one of the last true specialists on the car market. By specialist I mean that it was made with one specific objective. That was once the rule and it made the industry big. You had delivery vans for the orders, touring cars for traveling, all-terrain vehicles for the terrain, sports cars for the sport. One day, the auto industry decided to teach the can to multitask like humans. After all, the customer also became the generalist who wanted to be able to do everything to broaden his base of support – and paled in his superficial versatility. Today’s off-road vehicles are indefinably omnivorous SUVs, the travel vehicles hysterical power sedans, the sports cars recreational machines that are just as easy to use for a visit to grandma. They do everything right except be themselves. The Jimny can nothing good, except mud wrestling. That’s what he is for.

Suzuki made no compromises. The chassis is a ladder frame, ancient and indestructible construction of two longitudinal beams with crosswise connectors. The second lever for the choice between two- and four-wheel drive has a low all-terrain gear for the rough jobs, which you engage by firmly pressing the manly and pulling it back. The mechanical resistance you experience during the action is priceless.

Luxury is possible, not desirable. The windows are electric and the seats are heated, but the 7-inch navigation system rests on the dashboard like a fossil transmission box. You immediately see: that is not the case. You start the Jimny, also historical, with a real key. Thank god no home button, which would ruin everything. All retro sentiments have been thought of.

gusts

We meet on the highway and that’s a bad start, he doesn’t belong there. He is not fond of gusts and at 120 turns the four-cylinder almost 4,000 rpm. I recommend red earplugs as an accessory, you won’t hear anything from the music from the two speakers in the doors. It’s fine as long as you can control your pettiness, although the Asian cramped bonsai chairs are not kind to my weak back. The pay for that torture is general affection. At the pump, which you often see (he drinks like a Malay), it’s cute before and after again. I can still see Mini women switching to him because he is expensive enough to remain exclusive. You can pay a minimum of 27,000 euros for a car with two toddler seats at the back and a luggage slot in which a proud love letter should fit.

It’s something to me. If you are a real all-terrain vehicle, brave devourer of mud puddles and rocky slopes, everyone will find you just cuddly. Isn’t he at all. His seven-mile boots never get stuck in the tractor-plowed ruts around my house.

There is some discussion on my Facebook page about the red mud flaps, the matt black armored wheel arches, the alloy wheels, the fashionable control buttons on the steering wheel. They are too slick for the puritans. I can understand that: an intense desire for simplicity leads us into luxurious charm. But I know: without being too reformed and polished, a Beatles cover of The Analogues; too perfect a reconstruction of his frillless archetype. At least in his slightly corrupted, half-up-to-date guise he shows that time wants to move on with its history, and that the specialist still has a future.