1991 Mitsubishi Diamante LS Test: On the Cutting Edge of Gadgetry

From the September 1991 issue of Car and Driver.

If we had to sum up the Mitsubishi Diamante in one sentence, we’d say, “Look out, Buick!”

Actually, Oldsmobile and Mercury and Chrysler are just as threatened. For two rea­sons: First, this is the sort of quiet, comfy, gadget-rich four-door that the upscale Detroit brands have always regarded as their exclusive franchise; second, it’s a harbinger from Japan of many more fancy family four-doors to come.

Let’s take the second reason first. This car made its Japanese debut in May 1990, just about the time that government decided to let its people live a little. Taxes on large cars (exceeding 2.0 liters in engine dis­placement, 185 inches in length, and 67 inches in width) were substantially reduced—not just the new-car tax but also the ownership tax that’s due every year. Insurance rates were lowered too. As a result, Japanese buyers rushed to bigger cars, lifting sales of the brand-new Diamante to more than twice the level Mitsubishi had projected. Other makers benefited too: Lexus LS400s and lnfiniti Q45s are now as common as fireplugs in Tokyo.

How does this threaten Buick? Easy. The Japanese have long dominated the small-car category because they’ve been catering to home-market demand, which gave them the economy of volume produc­tion. As the home market shifts to bigger cars, so will the Japanese advantage. Expect plenty of Japanese action in the above­-$20,000 sedan category from now on.

And Detroit’s in for a real siege too, judging by the Diamante. This car, in the heavily optioned form tested here ($29,622), excels at the pleasures for which people have traditionally bought Buicks. What it loses in a showdown of pure, curb­side bulk—the Diamante is about four inch­es shorter and two inches narrower than a Buick Regal four-door—it more than makes up for in gadgets you can point at and make the neighbors say wow. Mitsubishi proffers more acronyms than the Houston Space Center: TCL, ECS, ABS, EPS-II, MSS, MVIC, ECL-M. It’s part of a carefully considered plan. The company knows that the country-club set doesn’t genuflect—yet—to the name Mitsubishi. But people associate technology with value, so the Diamante is laden with buttons, switches, and systems that people will take for technology. It’s the ultimate Sharper Image car.

If anything, the buttons distract from the classy act of a well-bred automobile. Certain aspects of the Diamante are very appealing. The test car’s leather interior is a knockout, charming in a Jaguar-like fash­ion. The 24-valve V-6 makes a sexy growl as you toe into it, a sound that seems to be showcased in an otherwise whisper-quiet interior. And the ride is controlled yet magic-carpet silky, provided you leave the Euro-Handling package’s Active-ECS switch in its default position. Diddle with the buttons, however, and you can easily screw up a good thing.

We’re talking about the top-of-the-pile Diamante LS, a car of the same size and shape as the $20,307 no-suffix Diamante but so different in detail that this review can’t apply to both. The LS’s 202 horse­power (compared with 175 in the 12-valve base engine), smoother-shifting computer-controlled transmission, and optional leather interior gave our test car a level of sophistication appropriate to its price. Incidentally, the wood trim is fake, but it’s the best fake in the industry.

In size, the Diamante fits in the middle, between the Nissan Maxima and the Acura Legend. Back-seat room is good for adults, particularly in toe space under the front seat. Trunk room, at only 13.6 cubic feet, is stingy. Given the exterior size and interior room, the Diamante LS, at 3668 pounds, is decidedly overweight.

Yet performance is quite spritely, partic­ularly at those times when you let the engine rev. The 0-to-100-mph time of only 24 seconds is impressive. In most contests, though, an Acura Legend would be the quicker machine.

Although Mitsubishi has invested heavi­ly in the Sharper Image approach to motoring, we are generally not very enthusiastic about electronic adjustments—why not just make the car work right instead of making it adjustable?—and we find nothing of great value in the Mitsubishi way. In fact, the LS’s speed-dependent, electronically con­trolled steering effort (not driver adjustable) gives some phony feedback under certain circumstances that’s plain annoying.

Automatic transmissions such as Mitsubishi’s, with driver-operated switches for overdrive on-off and for power-or-econ­omy shift schedules, are probably harmless enough. The big electronic item on the test car was the Euro-Handling package ($1670 extra), which includes electronically con­trolled suspension and traction control.

This suspension allows you to select Sport, which makes the ride hard. Leave it alone and the computer stiffens the dampers at higher speeds and when you turn or brake beyond nominal g-levels. All you feel is a car that seems well behaved. (Isn’t that the point?)

This suspension, when left alone, also adjusts car height: 1.2 inches higher for low speeds on very rough roads, normal for rou­tine driving, 0.4 inch lower on smooth roads above 56 mph. A switch allows you to override this schedule too, although the computer disregards your orders if it thinks you’re trying something foolish—over 43 mph in the high position, for example.

The traction control has an additional function called Trace Control. The basic traction-control feature performs as you’d expect, reducing power in the event of wheelspin by first retarding the spark, then moderating the throttle. Trace Control, which the driver can switch off, is Mitsubishi’s way of using the traction con­trol’s power-controlling functions to limit cornering capability to a level at which it thinks the driver will be comfortable. Funny, we always thought that’s what the right pedal was for. Anyway, Trace Control, at moderate highway speeds, gives you only enough power in corners to main­tain 0.7 g. As speed increases, power in turns is gradually pared back, finally allow­ing you only 0.3 g. Our skidpad-testing speed is typically about 40 mph. We tried it with Trace Control, recording 0.72 g. Without it, the figure was 0.75 g. The num­bers don’t appear much different, but the cut in power is unmistakable from the driv­er’s seat.

What’s the point? Well, Mitsubishi just wants to help . . . and help and help. This is one of those cars that locks its doors auto­matically as soon as it’s up to jogging speed. At first thought, that’s kind of neat. But they don’t unlock when you slow or stop. Well, of course not. How could a machine possibly know when it’s safe to unlock the doors? But that means it’s just trading one set of problems for another. Now you have to do the unlocking, either individually or by pressing the master ”Unlock” button. And you’re going to for­get. You stop, get out to load a package, and all the doors are locked but the one you exit­ed. If this car really wanted to help, it would find a way, when you’re standing there with two arms full, to unlock the door that it had the bright idea to lock in the first place.

Our test car, with all its options, is a lot like one of those fancy restaurants where the waiters never stop hovering, fussing with your glassware. Some people think that’s fine service. And they will never stop saying wowee about this car.

Counterpoint

People who dress better than I do say this car looks like a BMW. At first I didn’t agree, but I’m beginning to come around. Maybe the styling of the Diamante will be its real appeal. Never mind the slick four-wheel-drive system, the fine response of the revvy V-6, or any of the electro-contraptions that control ride, handling, and shifting. None of these features is new. Forget the opulent upholstery, too. But the styling, in a Japanese luxury car, is new. It’s grown-up, hip, and doesn’t look like Japanese styling. If it sells well, I’ll change my wardrobe. —Phil Berg

I wish Mitsubishi would sometimes give its technology a rest. The Diamante doesn’t need variable damping and ride­-height suspension, computer-controlled power steering, or “trace” control. None of these features complements the char­acter of this competent and comfortable, if somewhat bland, sedan. In fact, this technology doesn’t even work particularly well. A Diamante without these features is not only better, it’s a better buy. —Csaba Csere

The new Mitsubishi Diamante, much like the new Acura Vigor, strikes me as belonging to the gray porridge area of the automobile world—good as it is. It is a car difficult to find fault with—but just as difficult to fall in love with (unlike, say, the Nissan Maxima SE). The Diamante stops, goes, turns, and looks just fine. The dashboard seems a bit gimmicky, as does the exterior, but the driving position is excellent. If this car lacks anything, it’s excitement. —William Jeanes

Source: Reviews - aranddriver.com