Here at The Autopian, we review cars. Usually, that involves a car company handing us the keys to some vehicle or other, and then we drive it in whatever way we see fit over a week or so.
I really dig doing reviews. For me personally, it’s always fun to get behind the wheel of fresh metal and experience cars of all different stripes. Beyond that, though, publishing these articles generates some of the most interesting discussion on the site. I often find out all kinds of weird things I don’t expect when I try a car out for myself, and I try to share those findings in my work. They’re often controversial, and spark similar insights from the commentariat—or claims of my insanity and calls for my immediate resignation. Either way, it’s juicy.
What is clear to me is that car reviews can be very opaque. I talk about the cars in my articles, not the process by which I came to my conclusions. Thus, I’ve decided to write up a play-by-play of my review experience with the GWM Tank 300. Let it serve as an insight into how I test vehicles, and what the process is like—in the Australian bureau of The Autopian, at least. Let’s drive!
April 14
11:03 AM: I suddenly remember I need to pick up a car. I jump into an Uber for the 40 minute ride over to the press lot. Joy of joys, it’s a Toyota Corolla hybrid. You know how I feel about those. It’s a joyous ride of nausea because Toyota hybrids suck and the drivers accelerate and brake like maniacs. It’s the throttle calibration from hell.
[Ed note: Being in Australia, Lewin has a slightly different experience from the rest of us, which just goes to show there are no two experiences that are quite the same as a reviewer. In New York, about 50% of the cars I get are delivered to me, and the other 50% I just drive to the lot and, because we’re friendly, I can ditch my car there and swap. Jason, living in North Carolina, gets 100% of his cars delivered to him. My biggest issue is parking, because if I have a press car delivered, it means I have one more car than parking spaces I have in an urban core. Because none of these cars belong to us, and because we share them with other people, we have to take extra care to make sure nothing happens to them. – MH]
11:45 AM: I arrive at the press lot. I walk into reception. There is nobody to give me the car. I ring the bell. I ring the phone number.
11:59 AM: I get the fob for the GMW Tank 300 Ultra Diesel. It’s finished in a striking red, which I always appreciate, and spotlessly clean. This should be good. Driving out on the road, I instantly appreciate the stout ride befitting a proper body-on-frame off-roader. Within 5 minutes, I’m grating at the horrible GWM indicator controls that are so infuriatingly difficult to cancel.
12:45 PM: I finally get home and park the car. As I pulled into the last few suburban streets of my neighborhood, I found the engine to be a little tedious. It has a real problem with responsiveness in some slow-speed situations; tight gaps at a roundabout made this obvious. In any case, I’m off to pursue the rest of my day.
8:00 PM. It’s a nice night. I fancy a treat, and I’ve got a shiny new four-wheel-drive outside. A jaunt over to a nice little donut shop could be fun, so I grab my partner and we set off for some fried dough rings. Right away, I appreciate the 360-degree parking camera which works just as well at night as during the day.
8:30PM: I like to check out all the seating positions when I’m reviewing a new vehicle. We decided to sit in the backseat while eating our donuts to get a feel for the cabin. I throw on an old episode of That Mitchell And Webb Look with my phone propped on the center console, because there’s no rear screens and no way to play YouTube videos on the infotainment system. I’m enjoying a nice bite of caramel cream when I’m shocked out of my chair by the intense blaring of the horn.
Apparently, it’s very easy to trigger the alarm in this vehicle – even with the key in my pocket. This happens two more times in quick succession before I decide the Tank just really doesn’t want us to sit here and enjoy desserts. I assume it’s some kind of warning system for parents who leave kids in the back seat or something, but I honestly can’t be bothered to figure it out at this point. With people glaring after all the noise, we leave, somewhat irritated and defeated.
April 16
1:32 PM: I need to do some shopping for Easter, but there are no good chocolate shops where I live. I decide to hike my way towards a fancier place many suburbs over, in a wealthy area that’s become a swing seat for the next election. I navigate my way into a parking lot strewn with BMWs, Mercedes, and even a few Porsches. The streets are crawling with political campaigners. I grab my chocolate and leave.
2:04 PM: Since it’s such a nice area, I take the opportunity to photograph the Tank on some tree-lined streets amidst the autumnal change. You typically wouldn’t see a GWM around these parts. Even a brand-new Land Cruiser is a little low-rent in this area; this is deep Range Rover country. Still, I think the Chinese off-roader looks good against the colorful leaves.
April 20
11:30 AM: I’ve elected to go on a grand adventure with the Tank. For most cars, I usually just drive my normal routine, but when I’ve got an off-roader, it’s nice to go a little farther afield. It’s a fine weekend, the weather is mild, and the trails are calling my name. Prospects are good.
I start my journey at the McDonald’s drive-through next door, pick up a triple cheeseburger, and park up to eat my breakfast. I’m not five minutes into another episode of That Mitchell And Webb Look when the alarm starts going bonkers again. I’m in the front seat this time, again with the key right in my pocket, so I don’t know what the hell it thinks it’s doing. I eventually figure out that the only way to stop this happening is to keep the car “on” by hitting the Start button while not holding the brake. This keeps the electronics alive but the engine off. It’s a pain in the ass. I can’t imagine this would suit anyone who finds themselves eating on the road regularly.
12:13 PM: I spot a Starbucks on the other side of the road, built alongside a petrol station. I’ve never actually been to Starbucks, with the chain abandoning my hometown in the early years of my university degree. I want something sugary but not ridiculous. I eschew the Snoopy drinks and settle for a caramel macchiato. It’s cloyingly sweet, but that’s what I expected. Maybe I should have gone for something sillier because there a lot of other places serving good coffee around here.
I snap a few quick photos with the pumps in the background. They’re fine, but I feel like my photography has lost some of the juice compared to my early days. I suppose decay is an unarrestable force that comes for us all.
12:25 PM: I explore the grounds and spot a disused restaurant and drive-through lane behind the petrol station. I contemplate pulling the Tank around the back for photos, but decide not to bother. It looks shit back there.
1PM: I haven’t been to the trails since last year’s Patrol V8 review. I end up at a nature reserve with a large drinking water reservoir. Google Maps keeps telling me I can get where I’m going down various dirt roads. They’re all locked out to protect the water supply.
1:47 PM: I’m finally at the trailhead. It’s time to go wheeling! I’m using a new 4×4 maps app, and it tells me this trail is the lowest rating—Easy. That sounds like a good start. I always avoid hardcore trails when I’ve got a press car—you simply can’t return one of these vehicles covered in mud with bent axles and expect to keep working in this business.
I engage four-wheel drive and start chugging along. It’s pleasant going; the ground clearance is good, and the Tank is just eating up the terrain. After a good run through a tree-lined valley, I stop at a local peak for some photos.
It’s going well so far, but I find myself quite literally at a crossroads. Two lead to a logging camp, and I’m not allowed to go that way. The other two roads lead to Medium-rated trails in opposite directions. The final choice is to go back the way I came. I spend some time deliberating whether I feel up to some tougher terrain, or if I’m better advised to turn back. I do a quick inspection of the downhill route, and elect to push onwards down the less chunky of the two Medium trails.
It starts out okay. I’m guiding the Tank over some large depressions and making good use of the “Conqueror perspective,” which shows me the position of the front wheels on the infotainment screen. The lower I go, though, the worse things get. Soon enough, I’m down in a valley on a tight trail with no room to turn around. I’m making my way carefully, only to soon find out that my GPS position bears absolutely no relation to the trail maps I have on hand. I have no idea where I’m going and there’s simply no possibility of turning around. I’m laughing at my predicament and feeling rather stupid for boldly ploughing on, and I gingerly step the vehicle between two narrow logs with no spotter.
Somehow, this mystery trail descent into nowhere soon turns into a climb, and inexplicably carries me back to the trailhead I came in on. I have literally no idea how that happened, but I’m glad to be back on sealed roads. I elect to curtail any further off-road adventures and hotfoot it home.
April 21
11:00 AM April 21: I like to go on small road trips when I get a nice four-wheel in. Last time, I took the Patrol up north and booked a retreat that happened to be at a famous golf resort. This time, I headed out in an entirely different direction, to an entirely different hotel…
1:37 PM: …only to end up, once again, at a famous golf resort. It’s tradition, now, I guess.
I neglect to take any photos of the car. I do find the need to beep a warning at a Ford Ranger driver who was backing out rather close to the front bumper, only to receive a furious rebuke, perhaps due to the Tank 300’s train-like horn.
April 22
11:00 AM April 22: It’s return day, but first I have to drive home. Two hours in the seat pass quickly, and radar cruise control does the job. It’s a quiet drive, and that’s just fine with me.
2:00 PM: Time is growing short; I have to wash and return this thing by the close of business. I’m weary, but I drag the Tank down for a wash. I make good time thanks to the clear toll roads, arriving in just 20 minutes, but I’m greeted with a long line when I arrive.
2:36 PM: I finally got a shot in the wash bay and sprayed off the leaves and dust from a week on the roads, along with a little mud from my off-road expedition. Thankfully, it’s only a short drive to the press car lot.
2:45 PM: I arrive at the press car lot. I park the Tank and walk inside. Nobody is here. I ring the bell.
2:48 PM: I call the first number on the desk for assistance. It goes to voicemail. I call the second number on the desk for assistance. It goes to voicemail.
2:53 PM: I start wandering around outside. I spot a guy in the distance with the right polo shirt on. I hand over the keys. I’m done. I leave to grab an Uber.
Conclusions
Hopefully, this piece gives you a bit of insight as to what goes on during a typical car review. One of mine, anyway. Other writers have their own experiences—some even get cars delivered, a luxury I can’t even dream of. I’ve omitted some of my trips for clarity—there’s not much to say about a short jaunt to KFC, for example—but it all feeds into my collective impression of the vehicle.
What a lot of people don’t realize is that reviews take a lot of time beyond driving the vehicle. Picking up and dropping off cars takes me 3-4 hours alone, just because of the location of the press yard. There are no photographers anymore, either—it’s all on me. Taking and editing photos takes a ton of time, and then I have to write the thing. All that on top of actually driving! Writing up a review takes four to six times longer than just about anything I write for this site.
There are always ways to do better—I’d love to take sports cars to the track, or take off-roaders through punishing off-road obstacles. In this era of car journalism, though, that’s often out of the question. Instead, I do my best to test out cars in authentic, day-to-day use, and add on whatever greater tests I can dream up and facilitate on my own.
Overall, though, this gives you the general idea of how I put a car through its paces. It’s something I enjoy doing, and plan to continue in the future. After all, there are always more cars I haven’t driven …
Image credits: All photos Lewin Day
Just a note to tell Lewin (who I already thanked for the original Tank review) that I consume mass quantities 😉 of David Mitchell media myself.
Wow nobody was there to greet you at the press lot twice ?
That’s horrible cotomer sevis
I appreciate the look behind the curtain!
I have a question – is there a single press car lot that all manufacturers use for press rides or do different manufacturers have their own lots (a dealership, for example)?
Wut?
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had plenty of annoying taxi and rideshare drivers over the years, but I don’t see how you blame the car for someone driving like an idiot because that’s what they’re incentivized to do.
Also, you need to find a buddy for off road testing like this. I once went to an off road park alone, and had to skip driving a bunch of stuff because I didn’t want to get stuck somewhere with no one to help get me out. It would have been a much better experience (and test of the vehicle’s capabilities) if I had someone else along.
Thanks for the insight, this was an enjoyable read. I rather dig the looks of this, other than the oddball front end treatment. With a slight lift and more aggressive tires, this would look pretty cool.
Good call on Mitchell and Webb, I’ve been revisiting them lately. And as someone from the US, I’ve been sharing “Are we the baddies?” with friends.
Lewin, I — a paying member of the site, so technically your bosses’ boss, or part of it anyway — do not call for your resignation. I love your stuff and always look forward to reading it.
I’m part Bosses’ Boss too and I agree with the other Bosses’ Boss
Thank you, bosses!
RE the one image under the bumper where the paint appears textured. Is that maybe (maybe?) a textured surface like painted-over bedliner…or is it bubbling from poor paint?
I’m guessing bedliner type anti-corrosion. I’m old enough to recall when a lot of Japanese cars had similar from the factory on the rocker panels and lower fenders. Probably would not bother me.
My 2016 Smart has that on its rockers. It feels like bedliner for sure, but I bet it’s a bit more substantial. Thank you for the rabbit hole I’m about to fall into!
I think it was a pebble finish heavy clear applied over the native paint and primer. Very common in the ’80s and early ’90s.
That’s what it looks like to me
2026 Tacomas and 4Runners still have this as well.
and this is what I thought it looked like…so why did this bother Lewin? Or did I miss something else?
Maybe that’s not something typically done for Australian market cars. I doubt they have to worry much about the type of corrosion we get with road salt.
My 2016 Silverado has this in some areas.
It seems you forgot to disable the Decadent Western Entertainment and Propaganda Proximity Alarm. Easy to do; no one knows where the switch is.
Sounds about right.
I was unaware that April was “fuck in the press cars” month in Australia. But I appreciate the thorough review! Putting in hard hours, as it were.
I’m assuming your average humidity is 25% wherever you live.
It’s currently sitting at 88%, according to my local weather network.
Maybe in the dead of a -35 winter it gets that low, but I doubt it.
Where I am we average around 20% in winter and late fall early spring, but then a switch is flipped and whenever its over 85 degrees F its suddenly 90% humidity with no air movement.
I just checked, on average we never drop below 50% humidity in any given month.
Lewin did mention a “companion”….
Remember, April in AU is Sept/October in the States. Here in PA September is often very hot and muggy.
An informative and engaging peek behind the scenes. I’ve written one, maybe one and a half blogarinos here and it is always surprising how much longer it takes to do the dang thing vs how long it takes to consume it. Hours and hours of work and then only ~5 minutes to read the article. It isn’t fair!
The Autopian has an australian branch? Well that’s better than a bunch of Snags on the Barbie and a Esky of Cold Ones Mate!
They flip all the photos over for the North American audience, so there’s no obvious giveaways.
Even their clockwise donuts have to be cleverly reversed to avoid confusing us.
Lewin and Lawrence hold up the AU. Tycho seems to have the Far East in order. Adrian holds down the fort in Old Blighty.
Conqueror Perspective was strongly preferred to runner-up KhanView by over 93% of Chinese focus group participants.
At first I cringed at seeing Michelin Primacy tires on a press fleet offroader (honestly, on ANY car), but it seems like they did ok!
I love the behind-the-scenes look at this, I never really knew how press cars worked in the first place, except the usual disclaimers about people being flown across the country and given nice hotels and fancy meals…which feels like a conflict of interest, but that’s my two cents. Or three cents if you say something nice.
You mean you didn’t take the Tank to the Bradshaw Field Training Area?
I kid. You took it through the paces of how it’s most likely to be used, if not more, and that’s more important than the extremes of what it’s capable of.
The long drive to the press yard must get old but at least you’ve got something interesting to talk about with the Uber driver.