TOYOTA CENTURY
In Japan, if you're a
ranking member of the government or a ranking member of the Yakuza—occasionally
the same thing—you'll want to be seen in a Toyota Century. The Century is to
the Japanese what a bulletproof S&S Cadillac Presidential limo is to
Americans—a chauffeur-driven, multi-ton status symbol.
The Century’s
neo-classical carcass is made of unit body construction, and suspended by
airbag-augmented double wishbones at each corner. The resulting product tips
the scales at 4,400 lbs–about the same as a Chrysler Cordoba. Chassis rigidity
is probably more like an Imperial–after it’s been to the crusher and compressed
into an ingot.
Beneath the Century's
Edwardian styling lies a car that drives like a Lexus LS430 whose ride has been
softened unto mush by a sky-hook air suspension. Same hushed cockpit. Same
buttery switchgear. There's one big difference, though. At wide-open throttle,
the Century is even smoother than an LS430. Know why? Because Toyota ditched
the V-8 in favor of a 5-Litre 48-valve V-12, puts out 276 hp. Toyota will sell
a pitiful 600 Centurys this year, yet this V-12 finds a home in no other car on
the planet. Is that cool or what?
Frumpy lace curtains
are part of the deal, naturally, as are vibrating Magic Fingers in the rear
seats, plus a trap door in the front-passenger seatback through which Mr.
Bigshot sticks his tired, stumpy legs. If his feet stink, it's the chauffeur's
problem.
The weird and wonderful
Toyota Century. Being simultaneously a technological marvel, cultural curio,
and delicious slice of twentieth-century nostalgia, the Century is something of
a enigma. The cars offering a sort of connection to a bygone age, nevermind how
crap they might be in the metal. But the Century, stoically, keeps that fantasy
alive in the 21st century.
