Jimny: a legend reborn
stripped out look.
While the manual transmission is only a revised version of the old one, it still does the trick, with a nice, easy shift action, precise feel and a pleasantly light clutch.
It would certainly benefit from an extra cog.
The gap between first and second in low range means you have to rely on the slightly crude hill-descent control, with first being a slow crawl down a slope, while second can be a runaway eyewidener. This is only amplified by the automatic’s even lower gear count. Forget the auto, buy the manual and go as plain, or as colourful as you like.
There are, of course, a number of customisation options available, including a brilliant grille that takes things even more retro.
The key to the Jimny is going into it with your expectations in check – expect sophistication and refinement and you will hate it; expect incredible off-road ability and huge character and you will adore it.
This goes doubly for the interior.
While the styling is funky and retro-cool, the execution is cheap and cheerful, with emphasis on the cheap.
Plenty of hard, cheap plastics make it up, with a flimsy feel to a lot of it. But who cares? It IS cheap.
And it is a massive amount of fun for the money, and that is what a Jimny is all about.
Why would I buy it?
You want something that is delightfully capable and fun off the road, while also charmingly characterful and functional.
But mainly that delightful ‘‘goanywhere’’ attitude that the Jimny has always had.
Why wouldn’t I buy it?
This ain’t no refined little city runabout, despite what the cute looks may suggest. While its small turning circle and ability to bounce effortlessly over kerbs would make it an adept urban commuter, it is still a rugged ladder chassis offroader that has been vaguely tamed for the road, so don’t expect the malleable friendliness of something like a Vitara.