The first time I drove a Triton was a few years back when Mitsubishi still sponsored the gruelling Spirit of Africa competition. Under hardened taskmaster Sarel van der Merwe those poor Tritons were put through the wringer on a daily basis for months, at the hands of khaki-clad competitors whose idea of mechanical sympathy was low-range redline.
What did stand out at the time, having arrived there towards the end of the competition, was how well the Tritons were ticking along. The one we competed in had nary a squeak nor rattle, and a campfire chat with fellow competitors resulted in the same opinion all round.
So being reunited with the recently-facelifted Triton was not only a bit of deja vu, but a good chance to see what this tough and capable bakkie was like in the real world of daily traffic and tight parking bays. And luckily on test here was basically the same 3.2-litre 4x4 double-cab turbodiesel as on the Spirit competition.
The facelift itself is not a major one and I reckon only Mitsubishi loyalists will easily spot the difference. The latest incarnation gets a new grille, headlights and front bumper as well as a different step bumper at the rear and restyled alloy wheels.
More important though is that the facelift coincided with the brand’s divorce from Daimler South Africa and being taken over by Imperial Holdings. The facelifted Triton also marks the first time in 16 years that Mitsubishi bakkies will no longer be assembled locally. The bakkie you see here is fully imported from Thailand which, according to the Japanese automaker will allow more flexibility when it comes to specification and supply (expect a single-cab version of the Triton for the first time next year, as was available with the Triton’s predecessor, the Colt).
But back to our double-cab test.
Commuting daily in a bakkie you soon realise that you’re either a bakkie driver, or you’re not. It’s great having the superior ride height and increased visibility perched up in the driver’s seat, but bakkies can be cumbersome things to pilot. They’re almost like trying to get square pegs into round holes.
The 3.2-litre turbodiesel powering the Triton is a torquey number, thanks to its 118kW and 343Nm outputs. It feels alive and gutsy, with no lag at pull-off. With no traction control it also means that slightly overzealous launches result in unexpected wheelspin and the oke at the robot next to you wondering why you’re getting all Kalahari-Ferrari.
It does need traction control, I think. Especially with the combination of an unladen loadbox and the recent heavy rains we’ve been having - the rear gets a little “howzit” in the wet. Not to mention that sharp or U-turns in the dry, with no weight in the back and reasonable throttle input, inevitably get one of the rear wheels spinning.
As with most turbodiesel bakkies the gear ratios are quite short, meaning lots - and I do mean lots - of gear changes. First gear, in fact, is closer to a low-range gear and I never used it much.
Taking off in second proved perfectly acceptable, especially with all that torque on hand. In fact, depending on the circumstances, the torque meant you could use second, followed by fourth if you wanted to.
Then there’s what I’d like to call the truck-likeness issues.
The engine could be a little more refined, as it tends to clatter rather loudly, while the gearshifts are quite stiff. There’s also a definite need for a sixth gear for highway cruising, especially with the short gear ratios. You subconciously look for sixth as you hear the engine taking strain - which is a pity as the engine can certainly walk the talk.
The turning circle’s good. But there’s almost an extra turn lock-to-lock in the calibration, meaning in tight driveways and parkades you’re swinging away at the wheel like Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean.
In terms of comfort levels the cabin is a happy place to be. The driver’s seat is the only electric seat in the house, making for perfect fine-tuning of your (elevated) seating position. Rear legroom is excellent, while the rear-centre electric window is quite nifty.
There’s also quite a cool onboard computer offering a dose of trivia: according to the Elevation setting the sixth floor in our parkade, at 1 700 metres, is 200 metres higher than my driveway; while the atmospheric pressure in Johannesburg, according to the barometer, sat at 854HPA. The average consumption setting showed 10.9 litres per 100km, which I thought was fair. And there’s a digital compass for the serious adventurer.
And speaking of the rough stuff, we put the Triton through some medium offroading and it whistled through. The good ground clearance meant no stomach-turning body scrapes.
Getting through the off-road mantra of four-high or four-low was easy-peasy thanks to a traditional short stub lever which selected like butter. The rear diff-lock was a button on the console.
VERDICT
With modern bakkies such as Ford’s new Ranger and the VW Amarok out there, and the imminent arrival of Mazda’s new BT-50, the Triton is getting a little long in the tooth. I like the styling, the comfort, the turbodiesel’s grunt and the off-road capability, but with the notchy gearshifts and noisy engine I don’t think it can compete in overall refinement with the newer competitors. Especially not when you consider the R380 300 price tag. - Star Motoring
Our test unit was powered by a 3.2-litre turbodiesel producing 118kW and 343Nm of torque.