So there was a certain comfort in climbing back aboard the white-topped box with its familiar shape, slab-side doors, and rear windows that wrap around back corners like a pair of cool Ray-Bans.
But park this beside my 33-year-old memory, and it's bigger, rounder, and has far more power -- a 4.0-liter V-6 with 239 horsepower and 278 lb.-ft. of trailer-tugging, stump-pulling torque. (I cleared the land for my hippie shack by pulling stumps with my old one). Transmissions include a six-speed manual or five-speed automatic.
Toyota didn't get fancy when it built the FJ Cruiser. It could have gone for a rugged look outside and opted to fill the interior with queasy Hamptons/Nantucket guts. Instead, it went rugged all the way -- inside and out.
Which means it's not a car you'd buy for everyday long commutes.
First, it uses too much gas for that purpose: 16.9 miles per gallon in Globe testing.
But if you can afford to run to and fro on the daily work commute in a small car ( Honda Fit? Toyota Yaris?) and leave your weekend work/slog/frolic car at home, then this is perfect.
Make no mistake: It is a true off-road challenger. That's notable, because so many of these boxes were never meant to go where rocks jut, mud sucks, water sluices, and stumps serenade with tire-popping danger.
This vehicle is meant to go to those places. That puts it in a class with Land Rovers, Jeeps, Volkswagen Touaregs, and Porsche Cayennes (I know, these last two surprise you, but trust me).
And at just under $30,000, as tested, it will get you there far cheaper than some of the above.
From the outside, it is, as I said, '70s cruiser, unless you put an old one beside it and see by comparison the new size and roundness.
From the inside, there's a slab windshield in front of you, and small slab -- and then curved -- windows leading back to a slit of a rear window. It is, frankly, Hummer H3-ish.
