My 2002 Mitsubishi Montero: If You Can’t Print Money With an SUV in the 21st Century, What Are You Even Doing?

I’ve been blogging about some of my cars but I haven’t even touched on the trucks I’ve owned. That’s because none of them inspire me to write about them. My last one was a ’99 Silverado 2500 that I got as a winter beater/home improvement project hauler. But even though I bought it cheap, 12 MPG gets old after a while. It was hard to work on too, what with its 8-lug wheels and every nut and bolt making up the brakes and suspension needing monstrous torque to remove. So I decided to replace it with a mid-sized SUV.

Thirsty 6-liter beast.

 

Now, I obviously like buying cars (maybe a little too much), but I hate spending money on something that’s not fun to drive. And trucks aren’t fun to drive. So my challenge was finding a truck-like conveyance I could buy cheap and yet stand to drive. I started out looking at Isuzu Troopers. I always admired their honest capability and their nerdy boxiness. But before I got around to test-driving a Trooper, I found its spiritual equivalent: a local Mitsubishi Montero.

Boxy, utilitarian perfection. Credit: Alden Jewell

 

Known elsewhere in the world as a Pajero, or Shogun in the UK, the Montero was Mitsubishi’s answer to the Toyota Land Cruiser. It was sold in the US across four generations, starting about 1983 and ending in 2006. The final generation, from 2001 to 2006, was the most upmarket. By the 21st century, Mitsubishi had become an also-ran in the US market, but that didn’t diminish the Montero’s heritage as a descendant of genuine motorsport royalty, Mitsubishi having racked up several wins in the Paris-Dakar rally over many years.

My Montero’s racing cousin. Credit: Fastestkid at Wikimedia Commons

 

Accordingly, the civilian Montero had real off-road chops, with automatic AWD, part-time 4WD with a locking center differential, a hybrid rear differential (combined mechanical and torsen limited-slip) and a low-range, all shifted electronically. (Hilariously, a metal tag on the differential identified it as a “hyblid,” an example of the Japanese confusion between R and L.)

The example I found had less than 80,000 miles with a salvage title. It was for sale at a sketchy used car lot in downtown Columbus. These aren’t auspicious circumstances under which to buy a vehicle, so I’ll just cut the suspense right now and tell you that it worked out fine, save for a minor problem I’ll get to later. The price was fair, and it had been repaired well following a fender bender that damaged the hood, grille, bumper, and front fender, needing only a trip to the Mitsubishi dealer to clear an airbag code. (That Mitsubishi dealer’s showroom was always so deserted, it made the Sahara look like Miami Beach at spring break.)

The Monstero (as I called it) was Memphis Blue, a gorgeous deep metallic blue with a hint of purple. It had three rows, heated leather seats, automatic climate control with rear A/C, a huge sunroof, and two glove boxes. It even had genuine wood on the steering wheel, like your aunt’s la-di-dah Lexus. Mitsubishi was obviously trying to move upmarket with this truck, to compete with Toyota and even the Land Rover Discovery. But the price was about a quarter of what a J100 Land Cruiser was going for.

The Montero’s one-time competition.

 

One area where it couldn’t compete, of course, was the engine, which was only a 3.6-L V6 with 205 horses, whereas US-market Land Cruisers and Discoveries received V8s. (Although to be fair, acceleration was similar). Overall, the Montero’s luxury trim made for a thin but comfortable veneer over a capable unibody chassis.

My Montero in the Laramies

 

My first major job for it was to take me out west to camp in the Wyoming desert for 8 days. A signature Montero feature were seats that folded flat to become a bed. You’d remove the front headrests, fold the seatbacks flat until they rested on the rear bench, then recline the rear seatbacks and voila! A bed. (They worked in a pinch, but a sleeping bag on a cot was much more comfortable.) Even with a light foot on the throttle, 21 MPG was the best I could do on that trip, disappointing given how gutless the engine was. On the way back home, I drove without stopping from western Nebraska to Columbus, OH, about 23 hours in all, and the driver’s seat never became uncomfortable.

Above Rock Springs, WY

 

Also, the headlights were wonderful, shooting a broad, long beam with sharp cutoffs that never elicited an annoyed flash from oncoming traffic. And the fog lights were actually functional in the fog, rather than being the accent lighting that passes for fog on most other cars.

I also made several trips to upstate New York and Nashville. And, pulling a 5-ft by 8-ft trailer, the Montero moved all my worldly goods when I bought a new home at the start of the pandemic.

One afternoon shortly after moving, I was driving home after a snowstorm and a woman coming the other way in her Honda Odyssey moved too far to the right to give me room and ended up sliding into the snow-filled ditch. She was stuck there. I stopped, backed up, hooked my tow strap up to her trailer hitch, and the Montero pulled that heavy minivan out like a puppy yanking on a rope toy. The woman was so grateful she hugged me. Later, I did a similar favor for a letter carrier’s stuck mail truck. (He didn’t hug me, to my disappointment).

I even toyed with the idea of buying a Lancer Evolution just so I could have a matched set of Mitsubishi AWD vehicles. But have you seen the prices on those? It was a fun thought, though.

The Montero was even reliable. The only real issue was that it would run hot in warm weather. Since I rarely drove it in the summer, there wasn’t a huge urgency to fix the issue. Eventually I did end up replacing the entire cooling system and still hadn’t pinpointed the problem. I considered installing a custom, oversized radiator and electric fan, but by and by I began to lose interest. Underbody rust had started to spread and the on-road handling, frankly, was terrible. So I sold the Montero for about what I paid for it to someone who was thrilled to find it. I replaced it with a VW Touareg, which, contrary to reputation, has been dead reliable.

Breaking news: Complex German SUV is actually reliable.

 

Although it was discontinued in the US after 2006, the Montero/Pajero soldiered on in other countries until as recently as 2022, with only minor updates to the bodywork. The final Montero (and really, Mitsubishi in general) is kind of a sad story. Despite its near-ubiquity in the U.S. during the ‘80s and ‘90s, by the twenty-first century Mitsubishi was burdened with expenses and problems – some of its own making – and they weren’t in a position to continue developing the Montero/Pajero. It was quickly left behind by the Land Cruiser, among others. Accordingly, the aftermarket doesn’t support it nearly as well. On the other hand, a Montero can be had for thousands less than the overheated price of a J100 Land Cruiser.

 

Related CC reading:

Curbside Classic: 1989 Mitsubishi Montero – An Off-Roader In A Grocery-Getter World