Most Tacomas have a direct-injected, Atkinson-cycle, 3.5-liter V6 engine under the hood. It produces 278 horsepower at 6,000 rpm and 265 pound-feet of torque at 4,600 rpm. All Tacomas equipped with a V6 engine are ready for towing with heavy-duty cooling, trailer wiring harness connections, Trailer Sway Control, and a receiver hitch. The maximum tow rating is 6,800 pounds, depending the version of the truck.
A 6-speed automatic transmission with a Sport mode and a manual shift gate delivers the power to the rear wheels. The part-time, shift-on-the-fly 4WD system is easy to use, and, in conjunction with the automatic, Toyota equips the Tacoma TRD Off-Road and TRD Pro with Multi-terrain Select and Crawl Control. This is a sophisticated off-road traction system with ultra-low-speed cruise control that manages acceleration and braking while the driver focuses on steering.
The TRD-named versions of the truck also offer a 6-speed manual gearbox with 4WD. It includes a clutch-start cancel switch that allows a driver to start the truck in first gear without pressing the clutch. This helps to extract the Tacoma from difficult situations while off-roading.
Limited trim does without the TRD extras. Nevertheless, it proves capable enough for all but the most hard-core off-roaders, thanks in part to its 9.4 inches of ground clearance.
On pavement, acceleration is strong enough, the transmission behaving in sluggish fashion unless you stab the accelerator with emphasis or flick the gear selector into Sport mode. According to the EPA, my test truck should have returned 20 mpg in combined driving. On the test loop, it got 18.9 mpg. During my entire week of testing, it averaged 20.1 mpg.
Steering is slow to respond and vague on-center, which is great in the boonies but not on boulevards. On one local freeway flyover ramp, the Tacoma waggled over the undulating sections of the bridge, the oversized steering wiggling like a strand of al dente pasta in my hands.
When it comes to the Tacoma, the words “ride” and “quality” do not belong together. This truck bounces and skitters its way down the road, at once dismissively impervious yet exaggeratedly reactive to the nation’s crumbling infrastructure. You don’t really need to worry about lousy pavement passing beneath the wheels, but you’re well aware of it.
My test truck’s brakes—discs in front and drums (!) in the back—shuddered under prolonged use on hot summer days. With less than 5,000 miles showing on the odometer and little evidence of previous abuse, this was disappointing. It was the only aspect of the Tacoma’s driving characteristics that made me think: Maybe this Toyota isn’t as indestructible as it looks and feels.
You can’t buy a Tacoma and expect it to drive like a Camry or Highlander. This is a truck. It drives like one. That is as it should be.
If you want to avoid future chiropractic visits, get a Honda Ridgeline.