Fred B. writes:

Sajeev,

You recent article about racks prompted me to write.  I am the proud owner of a 1996 Nissan Maxima.  I’ve had it since about 30k miles.  Over the course of its 209k mile life it has garnered additional accouterments along with its original generous kit.  Specifically, the paint has gracelessly aged in the Texas sun to a rosy multi-hued patina that varies from nearly bare steel on some of the flat parts to the original red on the sheltered parts.  The car hasn’t lived in Texas all of its life.  Its formative years were spent in Indiana, where the salt festooned winter streets customized the underside.  In fact, it used to make such a racket that I removed the heat shields from the exhaust system.

The interior has also received the gentle blessings of years of use.  The leather rear headrests are cracked, and just recently the driver’s side seat has ripped.  The ebrake boot is shredded, although that is more a function of a poor design, every model of this vintage I have ever seen has a shredded boot.  Otherwise, this car seems to have been built out of lifetime parts.  (I did swap out the stereo, another problem with these models, and I simply stopped changing oxygen sensors after I spent my thousandth dollar doing so.  That was more than ten years ago.  Otherwise, original transmission, engine, pretty much everything.  New belts and other consumables at 100k, regular synthetic oil, probably need to replace the transmission fluid.)

To the point, I no longer take the car out of town.  I pretty much drive it back and forth to work and take two of my children several days a week for a low speed commute and to soccer practice in a medium sized town.  The steering rack is leaking fluid.  It has been leaking fluid for two years.  I top it off every once in a while, and it doesn’t give me a problem.  However, the fluid is apparently dripping onto the front control arm bushings, causing them to deteriorate.  My mechanic says that they will eventually go, but that watchful waiting is ok, and that it is not worth replacing just the bushings because I would have to replace the entire arms and the new bushings would simply be destroyed by the leaking rack.

He is quoting me $1500 for the rack and $700 for the control arm job.  Here’s my question: At what point do I give up on this sun-mellowed beast?  I don’t think it is worth north of $2k for the repairs.  It is still pretty sprightly, comfortable to drive and gets me around.  I can afford another car, but I need five seats and the nothing about the possibilities (other than last chance at a Panther) leap out at me (I am half waiting for the G8 GTs or the 2010 Maximas fall below $20k, but that is at least a year away in my estimation.).  We have a minivan for trips and schlepping the whole family around.  I thought that something like the transmission would give out and make my decision (relatively) easy.  I doubt that the bushings couldn’t just be replaced, but I am not sure how much risk I am taking by simply waiting for them to fail.  If the transmission or engine isn’t going to fail, it means that the car will fail when the bushings go, and I’m not sure I want to be there when that happens.

So, what are your thoughts on doing something with the front end like what you did on your Lincoln vs. just waiting for it to fail?  Also, I haven’t shopped the front end job, but do those prices seem ballpark reasonable?

Sajeev answers:

Since you mentioned it, I don’t hesitate to fix (just about) anything on my rust free, 170,000 mile Mark VIII.  The black leather interior is original, smells kinda luxurious and still gets compliments from random people. With modifications to its air sprung chassis and 330hp on tap, it drives better than most new cars. If I keep my wits about me, I can hyper-mile it to 32 MPG, even on E10 gas.  And I drive it anywhere I want, usually with a grin on my face. Mess with a good thing?

No way. I don’t want another daily driver, much less the associated monthly payment of a newer luxury coupe of this caliber. It’s worth every penny for a Mark VIII in this condition, with an owner so motivated to make it happen. But I am the exception, not the rule. I don’t expect anyone to be even remotely like me.

And for your ride, I’m not feelin’ it. There’s not enough Maxima love in your letter, and this Nissan needs a lot of work. Suspension work is expensive, but worth it.  Interior stuff for cars with no aftermarket restoration support is fiddly and pricey, you’d need a clean parts car (or some luck and a 50% off sale at a junkyard) to do this in a reasonable budget. So this is a car you run into the ground, sell it to the junkyard and start all over again. That is, after all, the circle of automotive life.

Send your queries to sajeev@thetruthaboutcars.com. Spare no details and ask for a speedy resolution if you’re in a hurry.

Since we’re talking about what was once billed a four-door sports car, let’s dive right into performance.

Coming from a daily driver down by over a hundred horsepower, the Maxima’s engine is just tremendous. The car launches with a firm shove limited just a touch by traction control, but it’s the range from 25 MPH to 70 that really impresses. Flooring it yields the oddest sensation of controlling the speed of other drivers. Very quickly, they all start to move backwards. There is some torque steer, though nothing I couldn’t handle with a single firm hand.  This car lives for speeds between 70 and 100. It has significant passing urge even at 85, where most sub-250 HP cars I’ve driven require far more planning. Pity then that the highest limit in the U.S. is 5 MPH less.

Road noise at that speed is minimal. Wind noise is more pronounced, and I noticed a subtle whistling from behind me on my rental with thirty-thousand miles. Nissan has heavily damped engine noise from the outside, so most of the aural enjoyment comes with the windows closed. I’d heard that the 3.5L had lost some smoothness at the top end relative to VQs of lesser displacement, but if that’s so, it certainly wasn’t evident with this version. This VQ sounds like it could hold at redline all day without a care. I could stand to hear more of it by half both in and out.

Prior to the Maxima, I’d had no experience with Nissan’s variable CVT transmission in any form. I came away from this one impressed. In Drive mode, it feels like an automatic with no shift points. It has the same creep at slow speeds, and the subtle wheel vibration of a car in gear when stopped. Slow acceleration keeps the engine around 2000 RPM. It otherwise loafs at 1200 RPM, imitating the practiced boredom of a Corvette in high gear.

This yields terrific mileage. Another more moderate driver in the family reported 28 MPG in a mix of highway and around-town cruising.
Wood the gas and the engine will zing to 4500 RPM, slowly rising to near redline as the car accelerates. If you’re aggressive, the system will assume you want to play and will hold 2500 RPM for a few seconds until it thinks you’ve relaxed. The heightened revs persist if you shift into Sport mode by moving the stick to the left gate. Sport can also add predetermined shift points to the CVT, an affectation that does no favors for acceleration. Even so, shifts are very quick. Holding a low gear and letting off the gas slows the car as if restrained by a giant hand. The connection isn’t quite as direct as a true manual, but it’s an interesting gimmick and sharper than any automanual I’ve tried. I personally found Drive so effective that Sport was superfluous. If selecting pseudo-cogs has more appeal to you, order the Maxima SV with paddle shifters. It takes much more concentration to keep the car pointed in the right direction at full tilt when you’ve devoted a hand to the gear lever.

I was uncertain at first what to make of the brakes. The pedal is touchy at the top of the range, and it took me over an hour to consistently stop without lurching. My fifth-gen Malibu is positively wooden by comparison; the pedal pressure in that one is probably three times greater for the same effect. Ultimate braking power is very high, though the ABS engages only when you’re near the stops. I think the car would benefit from a less linear braking curve, with reduced initial bite, but much more rapid deceleration in the bottom half of the travel. It’s too easy to use less than the car’s full braking ability. The ABS action is far more refined and effective than the Malibu’s, though a Porsche Cayenne is smoother still. This is gentle criticism; on the whole, I was pleased with the strength and consistency of the Maxima’s braking performance.
Grip limits were beyond my purview in this test. The base Goodyear RS-As have more than the engine can use. On dry roads, it took full steering lock and the gas to the floor to get any obvious engagement from the traction control system, and that was only for a moment. Disabling Nissan’s VDC stability control (and TC by extension) gave slightly quicker acceleration off the line. Handling was unaffected because I couldn’t make myself drive in a way that would activate VDC. Anyone hooligan enough to be bothered by it should probably leave it on.  

Those accustomed to the hairy-chested steering of a genuine sports car might find the Maxima’s wheel too emasculated for comfort. The leaden heft of a sport-package BMW at slow speeds is nonexistent in this car. It’s no more difficult to maneuver in a parking lot than an old Buick. That persists until about 40 MPH, when the wheel quickly and noticeably firms to a level still a few notches below where I’d like it to be. This weighting lends the Maxima an unnatural eagerness to change direction in slow turns. Handling seems to improve as the lateral forces increase; the real fun is in long, high-speed sweepers that liven the steering and let the car take a set. Highway stability is exemplary. The Maxima never feels as agile or sporty as a G37, but this seems less a chassis limitation than a mental trick. The ample cockpit and vanishing hoodline impart a bigness that encourages methodical driving. Dynamics aside, there are more intimate partners for channeling your inner Andretti on the backroads.

Interior quality seems at least as good, if not better than a cira-2007 Infiniti FX35. It makes the G8′s feel low-rent for reasons obvious even in pictures. My Maxima had leather accents and cloth seats with a vaguely suede-like finish. No lumbar support that I could find, but I was just as fresh after an hour in the seat as I was before. Coming from someone with back issues, this is a major achievement. There’s no shame opting for cloth over leather, if you can stand the fetish it seems to have for lint.

Side bolstering in the front seats is significantly tighter than the G8. Where that seat felt cavernous, this one extends only an inch or two more than I’d like. Bonus points as well for a beltline low enough to rest an arm on the window sill, and a comfortable armrest for the other. The rear seat is suitable for large people. I’m just over six feet, and when I set the driver’s seat to my preference, I still have two inches of knee clearance in the rear and at least one to the headliner.

The Maxima S is well-equipped for a base vehicle. All S models have a sunroof, driver and passenger electronic seat adjustments, a folding rear seat, and an auxiliary stereo input. Much of the value of the Maxima is here; while the SV can be optioned with larger wheels and all manner of gadgets, none of it is essential to enjoying the car. With rear-wheel-drive competition prowling the market in the high thirties, the point of diminishing returns for an enthusiast approaches rapidly.

Pictures do the Maxima’s styling little justice. The exaggerated Coke-bottle shape of its side bulges is much more attractive in person, concealing the car’s mass like a European suit would a sprinter. While it doesn’t inspire the lust of a Mustang or an M3, it does look classy and upscale in a way that an Accord or equivalent can’t match. The gaping maw of this Maxima is a lesser styling faux pas than the whole of Acura’s product line. Neither that, nor the awkward rear detailing is enough to turn me off to the rest of the car. Visibility from the inside suffers from strong A and C pillars, though not so much that I found it an impairment. Vettish front wheel arches add a bit of subtle aggression from the driver’s seat.
Before I was given the choice between a Focus and a Maxima at a rental agency, the latter wasn’t even on my buying radar. It’s since found a permanent home in my driveway. This is partly because of the Maxima’s unique brand positioning. A variety of V6-equipped sedans, including Nissan’s own Altima, can match the premium feel of the Maxima S for a few thousand less. None, however, are quite as fast, stylish, or sporting.
Luxury brands afford incremental improvements in speed and sport, but only after you leap the no-man’s-land between $30,000 and $35,000. The most apt competitor is actually the front-wheel-drive Acura TL, but that car bests the Maxima only with toys; it’s otherwise slower, less attractive, more ponderous, and quite a lot more money. Save for the ugly, the same could be said for the Hyundai Genesis. If you want fun, space, and style for less than thirty large, the Maxima S is one of the only games in town.

While Ford and GM consider building their mid- and full-size cars on a single platform, Toyota and Nissan are already doing it. The Avalon has been based on the Camry platform since its inception and now Nissan is giving us an Altima-based Maxima. The key to pulling this trick off successfully is differentiating the resultant cars visually and dynamically and, preferably, aiming them at different market segments. Did Nissan succeed at this mission, or did they just give us an Altimus Maximus?

Previously the Maxima was Nissan’s largest car. It still is, but it’s nowhere near full-sized. Its wheelbase is the same as the Altima’s; it’s less than an inch longer and actually has less front headroom (thanks to the standard sunroof), legroom and hip room. Its track is a bit wider but overall it casts pretty much the same shadow as its lesser brother.

Fortunately it owes more of its looks to the 370Z and the GT-R than the Altima. The taut lines are creased and folded to perfection and the view from the drivers seat over the sculpted hood and bulging front fenders is almost worth the price of admission alone. The optional spoiler perched on the edge of the rear deck looks a bit out of place but it’s the only thing I could find to bitch about in the looks department

The interior is a mixed bag. The first glance takes you to Infiniti (but not beyond). However, on closer inspection you wonder if a few e-mails got lost between the design and purchasing departments. The seats are upholstered in nice leather with classy contrasting stitching but the dashboard and doors are covered with a rubbery-feeling petrochemical derivative that looks like it should still be on the dinosaur. The electroluminescent instrument cluster could have come from an Lexus while the non-nav readout for the radio and AC controls consists of orange dot-matrix letters and toothpick numbers that brings to mind the Kia Amanti. And the “Metallic Link” (silver basketweave) plastic trim that replaces the “Piano Dot” (black dot matrix) plastic trim doesn’t add anything to the equation.

I found a few loose trim pieces inside and outside. Admittedly, they were small things but still totally inexcusable on a car that’s billed as the brand’s flagship sedan and can cost $40K when fully optioned.

Nissan’s ubiquitous 3.5L VQ V6 resides under the hood, pumping out 290 hp in this application (20 more than in the Altima, but requiring premium fuel to do it). As always, it’s smooth and pulls readily to the rev limiter. As good as it is, you can’t help but wonder what the Maxima would be like with the 328 hp 3.7 from the Infiniti G37. It’ll probably never happen, though because of that pecking order thing.

Why they chose to saddle the Maxima with a CVT escapes me.  Nissan’s is arguably the best CVT in the industry and is great in their mass-market-mobiles. However,  a car with sporting pretenses needs something with real gear ratios (and preferably a third pedal). While you can put the CVT in “manual” mode and shift it with the obligatory paddles, all that does is jump the CVT abruptly between pre-programmed settings. It doesn’t really do much to help the performance and you always feel like there’s something between you and the fun, kind of like hugging Scarlett Johansson while you’re both wearing rainsuits and hockey masks.

Fortunately the transmission doesn’t affect the handling, and oh, can this baby handle. The family connection to the 370Z is readily apparent, even if it is being pulled along by the front wheels instead of pushed by the rear. Nissan’s engineers worked some kind of magic with the front suspension that totally negates torque steer and makes you forget every bad thought you ever had about front-wheel-drive handling. Just point it and it goes, with no fuss, no muss and no plowing.

The down side is that when you’re not channeling Jack Baruth, the ride with the optional sport package ($2300) is a little on the harsh side. OK, it’s a lot on the harsh side, with plenty of road noise to boot. It was so bad I actually visited my local Nissan dealer to drive a Maxima without the sport package and 19-inch high performance summer tires to see if that was the problem. The ride is quieter and much more compliant without the hoonery gear. You give up a little crispness and road feel but it’s a lot more comfortable for daily use. Unless you feel you absolutely have to wring every last g out of every corner you come to, you’d be better off leaving the box next to the sport package unchecked. (And a big thanks to Jeff Lanier at Town Center Nissan for providing a comparison car.)

The Maxima is a great road car. But is it worth $10K or more than the similarly-sized Altima? If you’re just looking for a family car to schlep groceries and the kids, the Maxima isn’t for you. But if you want a reasonably-priced mid-sized sports sedan that handles like it’s on rails it’s worth a look. Just don’t take the name literally.

(Nissan provided the car, gas and insurance for this review.)

TTAC commentator Aren Cambre writes:

I have a question about my 2002 Nissan Maxima. A while back, I had the battery disconnected for a few hours. After reconnecting, the car forgot how to maintain idle right after starting: if I don’t nudge the gas pedal for several seconds after starting, RPMs fall to 0. Internet research is conflicting. Some say it will heal on its own, others say dealer-only repair.

It’s been a few months now. How do I fix this? Is it really dealer only? If I don’t fix, will I hurt the car? (I don’t mind nudging the gas pedal–kind of like when I set the carburetor choke on my ’74 Nova.)

Sajeev answers:

So it’s been a few months? Unless you cover less than five miles per month, the computer should re-learn its operating environment (and change its evil ways) by now. So I share your disappointment. Actually, I am all choked up.

The Maxima is no different then the Nova: but today we use the term “Idle Air Control Valve” instead of “Choke.” It might be a political correctness thing: perhaps choking your car leads to road rage or other violent behavior?

Whatever. Odds are a plugged or failing IAC valve is the culprit. Sometimes it will throw an engine trouble code but I’ve never been so lucky. You can try cleaning the IAC with WD-40 (or equivalent), but this is one time where throwing a part at a problem is a safe bet. After you inspect the vacuum lines, spark plugs, replace fuel filter, etc. to ensure the car is in tip-top shape, of course.

Bonus! A Piston Slap Nugget of Wisdom:

A dealer service bay isn’t normally any better than a reputable, non-franchise shop with access to electronic data warehouses like AllData. I’d wager that the dealer is the worst place to get older models serviced: only the more senior techs know the details in the design, and you won’t be lucky enough to get them working on your car. And you don’t want to know what junior mechanics think of your clunker.

Plus if you’re lucky, there’ll be a sales jockey watching you watch daytime TV and drink shitty coffee in the customer waiting area. If they don’t roll up with a “we are in desperate need of clean trade ins” at first contact, you’ll probably get a model-appropriate brochure with a business card stapled to the cover. Been there, done that and suppressed a gag reflex: vowing to never take an old car to a new car dealership ever again.

[Send your technical queries to mehta@ttac.com]

The Maxima’s new “Liquid Motion” ethos looks fishier than cocktails at Sponge Bob’s. Except for the Audi Quattro-like haunches, there’s not a single surface where a drop of rain could tarry. The smeared mascara headlights look idiotic in press photos. They become samurai-helmet material in the flesh. The dual exhausts and [optional] rear spoiler signal sporting intent with similar subtlety.

With 19″ rims, doors the size of stainless-steel refrigerators, and a new wider track and shorter length, the Maxima offers pure, broad-shouldered aggression. Overall, the new, downsized– yes, downsized– Maxima looks like some antediluvian antecedent to the G37 coupe just got dredged up from the Marianas trench. And then ate four people.

Nissan may be eating Subaru’s lunch when it comes to performance, but the two brands are in a race to the bottom when it comes to interior quality. Even the mighty Nissan GT-R suffers from a cheapish-feeling interior. The Maxima’s cabin is as rubbery as Chrysler’s plastics are hard. If Nissan wants people to think their cars are built to last, they’re going to have understand that first impressions last.

Still, the four-door’s fat three-spoke steering wheel approaches perfection, and the ergonomics are beyond reproach. Nissan allows you to choose between “piano black” trim or eucalyptus wood. Choose the wood, at least it’s real; the piano trim wouldn’t look out of place on a Farfisa synthesizer.

The new Maxima offers an Infiniti amount of optional toys, from thermal butt management to premium mood lighting (want to drive my etchings?) to the industry’s biggest heat sink- I mean dual panel sunroof. But the view forward is the killer app, as your eyes stare down that fantastic hood with its stingray arches and central power bulge.

Fire-up the not-so-uber-anymore Nissan and it’s clear the brand’s engineers have a hotline to a dodgy Mexican pharmacy. The good ole’ 3.5-litre VQ-series V6 tells you in no uncertain terms that it’s chock-full of Vegas-grade Viagra; power is up from 255hp to 290hp. Fuel economy has also been maximized, with a single mpg added to the highway economy. On premium fuel. Oops. Anyway, it’s enough thrust to power the Maxima from rest to sixty in about six seconds.

The new Maxima comes with Nissan’s Continuously Vacuous Transmission (a.k.a. CVT). Sorry pistonheads, there’s no stick-shifting your expectations here. Saying that, perhaps it’s time to cut the transmission slack some slack. The previous rubbery isolation that interfered with driver involvement now feels merely latex-based, particularly in the sportier DS mode. Theoretical cogs swapped via the steering-column-mounted paddles aren’t quite as crisp as some of the other manually-shifted autoboxes out there, but the responses are gratifyingly rapid.

The best bit: the new Maxima’s rolling acceleration. With 261 lb-ft. of torque lingering underfoot, the Tennessee tornado is no real world slouch. Highway or two-lane overtaking is as easy as it is aurally satisfying. You’ll be able to pass most anything at its price point except, perhaps, a mirrored window.

Usually, turning-up the sporty knob on a family sedan creates the sort of discomfort Herr Mosley [allegedly] enjoys. In the new Maxima, aluminium suspension bits borrowed from the Infiniti M45 and a six-point engine mount (for reduced vibrations) deliver a ride that manages to hit a high note of communicative firmness without ever resorting to cruelty. It could housebreak a golden retriever puppy. But if you prefer a more sedate Maxima, a softer Premium trim is offered next to the Sport model.

OK, we’re here now. Is this the “world’s best-handling 290hp front-wheel-drive-car?” Surely the concept is as ridiculous as the “world’s best one-armed boxer.” Yes, the traction control steps-in when mashing the gas from a stop. But otherwise, torque steer is blessedly absent. Even better, the new Maxima corners so evenly you’d think it had outriggers. Even betterer, Nissan’s quick but unfortunately-named twin-orifice power-steering rack provides a direct connection to the front tires. There’s a feeling of slippery nimbleness that even an Altima coupe would be hard-pressed to match.

Despite sharing platforms with the Altima and Murano, the Nissan Maxima is not a super-sized something. Their new flagship- I mean, four-door flagship won’t look out of place slotted next to a GT-R on the showroom floor. Brutal styling, a snarling V6 and a sorted chassis: welcome to the Circus Maxima.

Gallery:

Pictures of the new Maxima at Pixamo (with the teaser shots, too) 

Or just let them study the car for a while. The Maxima's body looks the way the Cadillac CTS wishes it did, before its designer decided to run for Mayor of Polygon Town. It's a clean, fresh design that's deceptively attractive. At first glance, it's easy to mistake the Maxima for another Japanese blandmobile. But then, as you experience the car's perfect proportions and restrained detailing in various lights and settings, the design begins to work its magic. Before you know it, words like 'handsome' and 'Nissan' seem less like oxymorons, and more like an invitation to a VIP room.

Enter the enclave, and you encounter an interior that would make Elvis Presley's footwear proud. The Maxima's suede seats and doors are ridiculous in theory, elegant in practice. They add a welcome touch of glamor to a car previously known for its fundamental worthiness. The motorcycle-style guages and funky three-spoke wheel provide yet more proof that Nissan knows how to sex-up an automotive workplace.

Crank up the stereo and you'll know that Nissan has this interior fun thing fully wired. The Bose eight-speaker sound system puts out some serious tunage, in both volume and clarity. The in-dash six-disc CD player also offers mp3 and a tape-deck (in case you like that scratchy, hissing sound destroying your system). On the downside, Nissan's designers seem pathologically averse to multi-functionality; the centre console is a button pusher's paradise.

The Mohawk "skyview-roof' is also a feature too far. While I liked Mr. T as much as everyone else, this roof is about as useless as his hair cut. Even the A-team had enough sense not to turn their van into a greenhouse. The heavy glass allows in extra heat, and aggravates you every time you look at it and realize it doesn't actually open. On the positive side, ornithologists will enjoy the opportunity to analyse splattered droppings from our feathered friends. Nissan should not have SHIFTed thinking and installed a standard functional moonroof, or, better still, nothing at all.

The Maxima is powered by Nissan's versatile V6; the same 3.5-liter engine motivates vehicles ranging from the Quest minivan to the 350Z sports car. Nissan tweaked the Maxima's powerplant to deliver 265hp and 255ft.lbs. of torque. The test car came with a five-speed automatic gearbox, complete with tip-tronic. So equipped, the Maxima reaches 60mph in a blistering 6.3 seconds. Even better, the surfeit of free-flowing torque and silken gear changes mean you can order your Venti bold without extra room and not spill a drop.

Thanks to an extremely wide front track, wide low profile tires, and a relatively low body weight, the Maxima is a spry beast, as happy tackling the twisties as schlepping the groceries. If only Nissan had left the VDC (Vehicle Dynamic Control) at the lab. Understeer? Oversteer? Who knows? The moment your driving begins to get interesting, the handling Nanny closes the book. With this watchdog engaged, you might as well be driving the eighties version for all the raw excitement the Maxima delivers.

Luckily, you can turn off the VDC and experience the pleasures of a chassis designed by… kill joys. The Maxima's nose is genetically predisposed to washing wide during hard corners. While this makes the Maxima an entirely safe steer, where's the fun in that? Strange that Nissan provides us with a boisterous 265 ponies, but dismisses the superb handling offered in their rear wheel drive (or AWD for that matter) Infiniti.

Still, you've got to give Nissan credit for checking more boxes than the competition. It's got more interior and cargo space and more amenities (e.g. heated seats and Bose audio) than the Volvo S60, VW Passat GL, and Acura TSX. Moreover, the Maxima embarrasses its rivals in the raw power department. Its closest rival is the TSX, which falls short by 65hp and 89ft.lbs. of torque. For enthusiasts living in a material world, the Maxima is THE material girl.