This century's duds: Disappointing replacements for the Ford Territory, Nissan Pulsar, Suzuki Swift, Holden Barina, Jeep XJ and others that dropped the ball | Opinion

So much to unpack here.

The Endura, a second-gen Edge large SUV from Canada, was perceived as the replacement for the iconic, Australian-made Territory. No pressure there, then.

That assumption followed Ford’s showcasing of a prototype just weeks after announcing its local-manufacturing exodus in mid-2013. This was at a ‘we’re here for the long run with exciting product’ shindig in Sydney.

Five-plus years later in late 2018, Endura finally landed with BMW pricing, a lack of third-row seating, a puny four-pot diesel and no petrol alternative. Everything the best-selling Territory wasn’t, in other words.

Even in 2016, after 12 successful years, the Territory still found around 750 buyers – against the newcomer’s sub-150 average – every month.

Imports ended by 2020. If ever a car lived less up to its name, Endura was it.

Even the most radiant Sex and the City character cooing alongside one in the launch campaign could not save the misunderstood Tiida.

Actually, Samantha was right. Larger than it seemed where it mattered (inside), as well as comfy, easy, perky and with a cushy ride, the successor to the popular Pulsar was not a bad car by most measures, and was even fun in six-speed manual guise. But, against the tape measure, it promptly came unstuck.

Firstly, the Tiida was not a like-for-like Pulsar replacement, but rather a narrower yet taller small car based on the Renault Clio supermini platform. Think macro Micra.

This downsizing made the boxy Nissan seem about half-a-size smaller than the sales phenomenon it was pitched against, the Mazda3.

But, in an early example of shrinkflation, the Tiida wasn’t priced any lower initially, even though it felt cheaper and more utilitarian against the sophisticated Mazda. More Miranda than Samantha, really. Buyers kept away and soon discounting became the norm, right to the very end.

The Tiida was designed to be smaller because, Australia aside, the Pulsar could never make the A-grade globally against Euro small cars like the Ford Focus, so Nissan thought laterally by going down market with Tiida and upmarket with the Pulsar-replacing Qashqai crossover. A prescient move.

And to prove this point, when the next-gen Tiida was badged Pulsar for its 2013 Australian release, consumers still stayed away, choosing small SUVs instead.

A sound used buy today, Tiida never stood a chance when new.

Car companies need to be more protective of their intellectual property when they put a respected name on something unworthy.

Exhibit A: the Mirage. Not a Californian hotel resort, but a cheap and charmless city car with no spirit or pizazz. Even new at $13K, drive-away.

In contrast, its 1996-2003 namesake was the polar opposite, adding style, performance, economy and refinement to a mix that still looks good now.

Available in dreary hatch or dumpy sedan – with no folding rear seat to at least add a semblance of cargo practicality – badged Attrage abroad (for Attractive Mirage!), the last Mirage is likely the worst Mitsubishi ever sold in Australia. Cheapness was its sole virtue.

Several non-Holden Holdens are guilty of the same sins as the TK Barina, but none are as egregious as the repurposed 2002 Daewoo Kalos.

Replacing the award-winning, German Opel Corsa-based XC Barina, the TK sold in much stronger numbers initially, on the back of lots of interior space, plenty of poke, incredibly low pricing and Holden’s effective marketing machine.

But this was a rough, noisy and unrefined runabout, with hard interior trim, a choppy ride and a terrible manual gear shifter.

Worse still, the Barina – and several other Daewoo-sourced models such as the awful Captiva SUV, Viva small car and Epica mid-size sedan – drove owners to trade-up to other brands, destroying Holden’s crumbling reputation. Some say it was the start of the slippery slope that the company never recovered from once the halo Commodore vanished.

An incredible shame. Holden’s turn-of-the-millennium glory gone by 2010.

The first four generations of Honda Odyssey were based on the Accord sedan, with the third and fourth iterations from 2004 and 2009 respectively adopting a daring, elongated wagon design that was big on style.

All were highly-engineered, next-level quality, award-winning grand tourers worthy of the Honda badge… unlike 2013’s Odyssey number five, which turned into a kid-focused family van with sliding doors, tons of headroom and space for an ottoman.

The previous slick handling and comfortable dynamics were diluted as the suspension went from double wishbones to low-cost torsion beams in the back, rendering the O-5 a dreary drive as well as a fatiguing ride. And as for the awkward styling…

Cheap, tinny and not particularly durable on Australian roads, it’s no surprise that the series no longer exists outside of the (completely different) North American market model. At least the last Odyssey remained reliable. But what a fall from grace.

The 1983-2001 XJ is regarded as the daddy of modern SUVs, with its monocoque body and compact off-road wagon styling beating the Toyota RAV4 to market by an entire decade.

Devised by the now long-defunct American Motors Corporation under Renault stewardship, and complete with French engineering ingenuity, the XJ is a deserving modern American classic nowadays. Reliable too.

Its cartoonishly-styled 2001 KJ successor, meanwhile, lacks the looks, charm and on-road driving ease of the XJ, and throws in limited back-seat space, poor build quality, cheapo plastics, a knobbly ride, alarming unreliability and an embarrassingly long list of recalls.

The 2008-2012 KK successor was no better and freefalling sales reflected the unenviable reputation that ensued. The series was discontinued but the name switched to a completely different SUV with Italian heritage. But that’s another story.

Lexus ruled the 1990s, creating a benchmark for quality, reliability, refinement and aftersales care that remains second-to-none.

But there were (and perhaps still are, though with different models nowadays) two Lexus streams – the engineering-focused rear-drive cars, led mainly by the LS limousine, GS mid-sizer and IS sports sedan that went after the BMW 7, 5 and 3 Series respectively; and the front-drive and 4WD Toyotas in glorious drag – including ES (Camry), RX (Kluger), NX (RAV4), GX (Prado) and LX (LandCruiser).

In the latter category came the CT (short for Creative Touring), Lexus’ Corolla.

And what a drag. Based on the 11^th-generation Toyota small car, twinned with the European-market Auris (complete with a multi-link rear suspension set-up) and aimed squarely at the successful Audi A3, the CT200h looked promising on paper. Especially considering the proven petrol-electric hybrid efficiency, solid build, high equipment levels, slick overall presentation and guaranteed reliability. How could Lexus lose?

Here’s how. The gawky styling, raucous powertrain, dull handling, stiff ride, tight interior space, odd ergonomic issues and tiny boot made this feel less Coco Chanel and more undercooked. Sales were always slow and the model was withdrawn (shockingly, later than expected) during 2021.

A Japanese A3? More like an over-entitled Corolla. It is difficult to recall another premium luxury car that is so far away from that definition.

The UX replacement is much, much better at behaving like a Lexus.