Marc K. Stengel
In a parallel life, while conducting research for an Atlantic Monthly article titled “The Diffusionists Have Landed” (January 2000), I became fascinated with a sub-Saharan Berber people known as the Tuareg—or Touareg, according to their 19th-century French colonizers. These hardy, aloof, nomadic folk reside in a trans-border region comprising parts of present-day Algeria, Niger, Burkina Faso and Mali, where fabled Timbuktu is the best-known city.
My introduction to the Touareg developed by way of an ancient writing system they have preserved, known as Tifinagh. Hard as it is to believe, Tifinagh has distinct associations with Scandinavia and possibly even with North America. In my reporting, I cited a cautious assertion of the prominent Canadian archaeologist David Kelley:
“I have found,” Kelley wrote in The Review of Archaeology, “that the late Bronze Age of Scandinavia, corresponding to the early Iron Age of Italy and North Africa, shows a lengthy series of innovations in all areas of iconography, including apparent Proto-Tifinagh inscriptions in both Scandinavia and Italy.... The date is about 800 B.C.” In an interview, Kelley elaborated upon ancient trade relationships linking the Tassili area of Saharan Africa, near the Algeria-Niger border, with the southern terminus of the Amber Route in the Camonica Valley of northern Italy. At this point, he conjectured about what appear to be Tifinagh inscriptions at an ancient archaeological site in Peterborough, Canada: “It looks to me as if a single trade route united an area from the gold-mining zone along the Niger [River] to Scandinavia, and I think that oceanic voyagers from Scandinavia, linked into that route, reached Ontario.”
All of which, of course, begs the question: What took the Touareg so long to make it back to North America—and with modern-day Teutonic assistance, no less?
What I’m referring to, of course, is Volkswagen’s own trans-oceanic voyage of exploration to ascertain how many more iterations of SUV the U.S. auto market can comfortably digest. Because, you see, the Touareg actually represents four distinct models—V6 and V8 versions from Volkswagen and V8 turbo and non-turbo variants bearing Porsche Cayenne badges.
For my automotive “reintroduction” to the Touareg, I drove a well-equipped V6 model, whose 3.2-liter twin-cam, variable-valve powerplant produces 220 horsepower and 225 ft.-lbs. of torque. The all-wheel-drive powertrain is something VW calls 4XMotion, and it’s mated to a sophisticated six-speed automatic transmission featuring Tiptronic clutchless manual shifting.
At an as-tested price of $44,000—which included $9,000 worth of high-tech options—my tester cost half the price of the twin-turbo Cayenne reviewed previously in this space. Of course, the V6 Touareg’s zero-to-60 performance of 9.4 seconds is positively pokey by Porsche standards; but the VW’s “crawlability” factor in the face of daunting off-road challenges rivals the Cayenne’s step by rock-climbing step.
Touareg owes its off-road prowess to a combination of technologies, including four-wheel independent suspension, a computer-integrated series of engine, transmission, braking and traction controls and an optional “4-Corner” adjustable air suspension system ($2,300). Together, these elements give the Touareg a plucky surefootedness not otherwise found in today’s crop of trendy “crossover” SUVs.
The VW’s ground-clearance is push-button adjustable from 6.3 in. to 11.8 in. Touareg can wade water up to 22.8 in. deep. It can tackle 45-degree grades head-on and cling sideways—while moving—at a terrifying 35 degrees.
Individually, wheels receive either the power or the non-slip braking they need—even if certain wheels are entirely off the ground or completely mired in goo. And yet, with the structural integrity of unibody (as opposed to cab-on-frame) construction, Touareg remains squeak- and rattle-free over rough surfaces; sporty and responsive over smooth, paved ones.
Its safety package, too, is generous: front, front-side and front-to-rear head-curtain airbags are standard, as are electronic stability control and a tire pressure monitoring system in the dash. Admittedly late to the North American SUV parade, Touareg nevertheless strides forth with a number of technological trumps over its rivals. A number of shortcomings too, however.
Among these are disappointing fuel economy for a V6 that manages only 15 mpg/city, 20 mpg/highway. Engines of similar displacement in passenger cars routinely attain mid- to high-20 mpg results; so what gives? Well, there are over 5,000 lbs. of curb weight to lug around. Microchip computer systems they may be, but all those high-tech powertrain and suspension controls eventually add up to macro-weight—despite an aluminum hood meant to trim some of the fat.
Trimming is also in evidence at the rear of the cabin, where three-up bench seating is decidedly cramped. A Touareg full of adults, in other words, isn’t going to be especially convivial on long camel rides. Lucky front-seaters on the other hand, will have a princely time in comfy buckets with an array of well integrated entertainment, climate and navigation controls at the fingertips.
Conversely, the Touareg is a versatile hauler for its size. There are 31 cu. ft. of anytime storage behind a rear seatback that splits 60/40. Folding both sections flat reveals a total of 71 cu. ft.—enough for a pair of mountain bikes and gear, in fact. The payload limit is 1,400 lbs.; even more stout is a tow rating of 7,716 lbs.
To my mind, the VW Touareg’s chief advantages are its classy Euro-styling and fun, sporty handling on the road. I find it hard to believe that most buyers will exploit all of its impressive off-road capabilities on a routine basis; and yet for that curious privilege of neglect they’ll be making frequent fuel stops to top off. Then again, the Touareg people are celebrated for independence of spirit and sheer cussedness. Their SUV namesake may well attract buyers of similar mind.
