Acadia LTZ-V: We ‘owned it’
It’s last call for our long-term Holden Acadia LTZ-V. David Linklater gives his verdict.
‘Own it’’ is one of those ghastly phrases that you hear a lot on American television. And more recently, in corporate life (the two are quite similar, actually).
Anyway, one of the reasons we wanted to run a Holden Acadia as a long-term test car is that Holden New Zealand really seems to own this model.
The General Motors (GM) brand has had its share of troubles lately. The end of Australian manufacturing hit Holden’s image hard (admittedly more at home than here in New Zealand), and the decline of traditional sedans and wagons – plus the uncertain future of said models sourced from Europe – has led to a decision to discontinue what is arguably Holden’s best-known model name, the Commodore.
Holden is now pivoting as a distributor of mainly SUVs and utes. Which makes sense, but the scope of its model range is confusingly broad and a challenge to present as a cohesive whole.
It offers very different stuff from very different divisions all over the GM world: Thailand, Korea and the United States.
In the midst of all this, the company has been very clear about Acadia: it’s a large, crossover SUV from the US and proud of it.
There’s a Holden badge on the grille but the company is not pitching it as anything other than pure Americana. Holden is . . . owning it.
That’s how we approached our time ‘‘owning’’ the Acadia and we weren’t disappointed. It’s a gleaming, chrome-laden machine with lazy V6-petrol power and vast reserves of cabin space. God bless Acadia.
It didn’t feel out of depth on narrow, winding Kiwi roads though. Our flagship LTZ-V has had a fair bit of fettling from Holden Australia engineers, including adaptive suspension that works in synch with the drive modes. You can go from 2WD to 4WD and keep the compliant chassis, but click into Sport and you get a stiffer suspension setup for more demanding driving.
The LTZ-V also gets higherquality Continental rubber than lower-grade Acadias, which makes a huge difference to the handling.
So what did we really like – and dislike – about the Acadia during our long-term test time?
Let’s start with the cons column because I don’t want to end on a bummer.
For such a hi-tech SUV (we’ll get to that in a minute) it does look rather old-fashioned, both outside and in. I like a lot of the boldness, but judging by the consistently disparaging comments from others about the look of the Acadia, it seems there’s only so much chrome and shiny trim people can take.
The seats, although they look quite sumptuous in black leather and cream piping, are not exactly enveloping. They seem to allow for a generosity of backside at the expense of overall support.
Visibility isn’t brilliant either. Acadia is a big SUV, but it’s really more of a crossover: the seating position is quite car-like, which is nice in some respects but does also make it hard to see the extremities of the car.
That’s covered off by the multitude of parking cameras (360 degrees in the LTZ-V) and radar, but you still have the odd moment when cornering or manoeuvring.
I’ll also share the same gripe I have about every Holden: GM’s infuriating key warning, which gives a loud, multiple toot of the horn when you exit the car sanskeys. You’d be surprised how often you do this – loading the car, for example.
Given that I keep strange working hours sometimes, I think it’s fair to say my neighbours won’t be sorry to see the car go. I will, though. Because there’s a lot to like.
The big V6 engine and ninespeed (yes, nine) transmission are a smooth combination, save a grabby first gear in traffic.
And while it’s true that the Acadia likes a drink if all you’re doing is hammering around town, our final average of 13.3 litres per 100km was pretty good for a big fella. I’ll admit there’s some benefit from open-road summerholiday running in that final figure, but still.
I was genuinely surprised by the level of driver-assistance and safety technology in the car. The adaptive cruise control is outstanding (as was the similar system we enjoyed in our former Commodore VXR long-termer), I loved the haptic seat feedback (which eschews annoying warning noises for targeted vibration under the driver’s seat squab) and found the traffic sign recognition genuinely useful.
Which is odd, because I thought I’d find it a bit of a nag.
I could go on about the rest of the active safety kit, but I won’t. The Acadia is the most hi-tech car ever to wear a Holden badge and the LTZ-V version has pretty much everything.
In fact, my teenage son wanted to know why the Acadia could park itself (parallel or perpendicular) but the $150k prestige car sitting alongside it in the garage that day couldn’t. Good question.
I’m not personally a great lover of large cars – quite the opposite, in fact – but I did enjoy the Acadia’s sheer cabin capacity. You don’t think you need or want it, but when it’s available, people and stuff come out of the woodwork to fill it.
It was a brilliant family vehicle. Which brings us back to where we started when we collected the Acadia last year. At that time we postulated that this really was the replacement for the old Aussie-made Commodore.
And it really is: growly V6 engine, drive to the rear wheels (OK, AWD), acres of interior space, including a second-row seat that does three-across easily, and massive luggage capacity.
Even the Acadia’s conservative style fits the Aussie Commodore ethos; it’s just that you get a mind-boggling array of driver-assistance and safety technology with it.