The war in Iran is grinding on, diesel is more than $3 a litre, and we’ve just been handed the keys to a vehicle so large that even Donald Trump might consider it “a bit much” – though he’d likely still claim he built it himself.
It is, quite officially, the worst possible time to be driving a full-size pick-up. Our range-topping Toyota Tundra Platinum – which swaggered into local showrooms last May – but now buyers are sidestepping the Yank-tank segment, with sales in this heavyweight genre currently half of what they were this time last year.
Despite the geopolitical gloom and a 122-litre fuel tank that now requires a small personal loan to fill, the Tundra remains the ultimate mechanical flex.
It is a high-vis, 790Nm reminder that in the world of “too much is never enough”, Toyota is finally ready to play. It isn’t just a basic import, either; it’s an Australian manufacturing phoenix story, painstakingly pulled apart and rebuilt in Melbourne by the same Walkinshaw engineers who used to build our supercharged HSVs.
By the time Walkinshaw is finished, the Tundra is a factory-backed, right-hand drive powerhouse designed to take the fight to the Ram 1500, Chevrolet Silverado and Ford F-150. It’s a 326kW hybrid beast that offers the Toyota faithful a way to tow the world without having to give up their “Oh What a Feeling” membership card – provided they’re prepared to drop a casual $185,000 on a machine that has more torque than some small planets.
What do you get?
Dropping $185k on a Toyota used to get you a fleet of Camrys and a very nice Christmas card from the dealer. Now, it gets you exactly one Tundra Platinum. That massive figure doesn’t even include a cent of Luxury Car Tax because it is technically classified as a “commercial vehicle” – it dodges the government’s 33 per cent luxury sting entirely.
It’s a chrome-laden loophole on black 20-inch wheels that proves if you’re going to spend a fortune, you might as well do it in a way that makes the taxman weep.
Toyota attempts to soothe your credit card trauma with a hefty 14-inch touchscreen, panoramic sunroof, power tailgate, leather-accented trim and massaging front seats. The front chairs and outback rear seats have heating and cooling functions.
There is no tonneau or hard cover included as standard, meaning your gear is as exposed to the elements as your bank account is to the current interest rates. Also missing is power outlets in the tray. It’s a business-class lounge in the front and an open-air skip in the back.
Externally, black is standard, whereas graphite, silver, khaki, blue, red and white all add about $700 to the bottom line. Servicing is capped at $470 for 10, but you’ll become close mates with the servicing department by having to return to the dealer every six months or 10,000km.
How was the drive?
Most Australian carparks treat the Tundra like an unwelcome guest at a dinner party. At nearly 6m long, it doesn’t so much fit into a standard space … we managed to find one spot that was just long enough to accommodate the axles, leaving the massive front and rear overhangs dangling over the lines like a pier over the ocean.
With a 15m turning circle the Tundra requires the kind of geographic clearance usually reserved for heavy machinery, and negotiating a drive-through requires the kind of multi-agency co-operation usually reserved for moving a heritage-listed building.
Despite the logistic gymnastics, the Tundra is remarkably quiet for a burly machine. The 3.5-litre twin-turbo V6 hybrid is a masterclass in smooth transitions and performed brilliantly on the highway, where we saw the fuel consumption dip below a surprising 10L/100km. By the end of the week, it averaged out to 12.5L/100km – a respectable figure considering it is hauling nearly three tonnes of “look at me” metal.
When worked, the engine sheds its refined manners and delivers a hairy-chested, almost V8-like soundtrack that feels every bit as strong and robust as its 790Nm torque figure suggests.
Would you buy one?
Kel: Surprisingly well-mannered and the cabin is essentially a studio apartment, but since I’m not planning to tow a medium-sized yacht, it’s a pass for me. The thought of navigating a standard shopping centre carpark didn’t just give me heart palpitations, it felt like a high-stakes game of suburban Tetris.
Grant: The RAM 1500 might have the tough guy aesthetic won for now, but Toyota’s upcoming hardcore Tundra called the TRD Hammer is the one I’m watching to find the real heavyweight. Yet this remains a refined, 790Nm towing masterpiece, but dropping $350 every time you hit the bowser is a heavy tax on the soul. Given this stellar hybrid powertrain is LandCruiser-bound, that’s where my money would go – spending $185,000 on a pick-up that arrives with a naked tray and a cabin lacking pizzazz is a hard pill to swallow.
