Your Detroit-bureau editors both live about 11 miles north of our lovely river-view offices, and in the dead of winter, while dodging various major freeway reconstruction projects, that's plenty far enough to learn what a vehicle is like to live after a few days of slogging back and forth. One recent week we just happened to have three fairly comparable crossover SUVs in our own parking garage, so we've staged a little commuter comparo. There was no lavish road trip, no exotic destination, no expense-reportable dining or carousing; we just sampled what each vehicle was like to live with over a two-week stay. The threesome included Ford's cool new Edge, GMC's Acadia, and the Suzuki XL7. Although our as-tested prices show a $13,465 price spread, it's possible to order an all-wheel-drive version of each priced within a couple monthly payments of $30,000, though that requires loading the 'Zuki to the gills, picking the topline Edge, with no options, and going with a bare-bones GMC (its Saturn Outlook sibling, which arrived to replace our GMC just days after this drive, starts out about $2000 less, providing identical performance, ride, and handling).
First impressions
Suzuki: Recall that the XL7, though styled in Japan and fitted with an engine built there by Suzuki under license from GM (it's essentially the same "high-feature" V-6 found under the Acadia's hood), this Canadian-built crossover is essentially a stretch version of the Chevy Equinox and Pontiac Torrent. And by comparison with its peers in this group, the XL7 feels like it's built on cheaper underpinnings. It's considerably narrower than the others (by 3.6-6.7 inches), and the materials, sheens, and glosses whisper "entry level." Ditto the door-closure sound, which is borderline tinny. But, man, for the price ($31,395), this is one well-equipped vacationmobile, complete with rear-seat DVD entertainment, dual-A/C, and remote starting.
Ford: The Edge seems like the middle child in poshness. Its interior styling is bold, striking, and attractive (especially in lighter-colored versions), but here again the plastics don't try very hard to convince you they're something nicer. An apparent quality lapse in our test sample was a stiff shifter that often appeared to be in reverse, but wasn't, requiring further fiddling. Our tester was optioned to the hilt with $5370 worth of panoramic sunroof, rear parking assistance, navigation, and satellite radio.
GMC: The Acadia comes off as the fanciest of the three, from its high-grade materials to the brightly-lit electroluminescent-look gauges. Of course, $7355 worth of optional gear also heightened this impression, with such items as a head-up display, touch-screen navigation, Bose surround-sound with a rear-entertainment DVD system (including a 110-volt plug for video games), and a dual sunroof. It also suffered an early build quality lapse; the driver's power seat control stopped working, with the seat fortunately in a comfortable position. And 13,032 Acadias and Outlooks, built before February 2, have been recalled because front airbags may fail to deploy. (Dealers will reprogram the airbag computers in a procedure that GM says takes 25 minutes.)
From the Driver's Seat
The Edge comes off as the most sporting of the three, but during winter in Detroit this isn't an altogether flattering assessment. Yes, it corners crisply and accelerates with verve, but on the commute what you really notice is a punishing ride. What's more, despite being practically brand new (661 miles), the firm shocks and springs had already managed to incite a few rattles. On the upside, Ford's is one of the most user-friendly satellite radio interfaces in the business. Once you learn it, navigating between genres, between favorite stations, or selecting a new station by inputting its channel number are all easier than in most.
The Acadia's ride is measurably less harsh, but well buttoned down. There's never any excess body motion, but the chassis follows the contour of the road quite faithfully-it never floats above it. Given the boot, the 3.6-liter makes quite a sweet sound, though bearing the burden of just a few Happy Meals short of 2.5 tons, actual acceleration is modest (8.4 seconds to 60 mph, 0.7 slower than the other two). Manumatic control of the gear selection is enabled by a curious little button on the side of the console shifter, with + and - signs on the top and bottom of a slanted rocker switch. It's a less obvious solution than a separate shifter gate, but not bad. In the name of maximizing fuel economy, the six-speed automatic grabs the highest gear it can muster at the lowest possible speed (like 1200 rpm at 35 mph in fifth), which often leads to a lugging sensation or the feeling that half the cylinders are shut off (they're not). We're also big fans of the GMC's automatic three-flashes-to-pass turn-signal feature that's now spreading throughout autodom.
Suzuki's whole approach feels a bit more relaxed. Though its wheelbase is 6.5 inches shorter than the Acadia's, it feels more like a stretched vehicle, both when looking through the rearview mirror and when traversing the bumps and railroad tracks that excite noticeable vibration and vertical beam shaking. It accelerates neck-and-neck with the Ford, thanks to its light weight (316 pounds less than the Edge), though it never feels anywhere near as nimble. One grumble: Power window switches belong on the doors, not the center console.