I Took Our Nissan Murano CrossCabriolet Rock Crawling And It Was Almost As Good As A Jeep

I love a good challenge. Sometimes I’ll do something the hard way just for the fun of it. I put this on display most times that I go off-roading. Sure, I could wheel in a Jeep Wrangler or a Toyota 4Runner, but I’d rather hit the trails in a Smart Fortwo or a Honda Elite 150D. Earlier this month, I took a crossover that was never meant to be off-road onto challenging trails in Arizona. I was shocked that our Nissan Murano CrossCabriolet was, somehow, almost as good off-road as a Jeep Gladiator.

My 4,050-mile road trip with the Autopian’s Nissan Murano CrossCabriolet was one of the longest single road trips in my life. I love long trips, so when David Tracy pitched the idea to me, I immediately said yes. I get to drive the famous Autopian CrossCab across the Southwest and then participate in a Lemons Rally? I’m not sure I said yes to a David idea any faster.

It wasn’t long after this when, during trip planning, someone had the bright idea that we should make use of the long trip by taking the CrossCab off-road. While a big part of the Murano project was covering exactly half of it in XPEL paint protection film, the team in California got pretty silly with it. They gave the Murano a lift kit, slapped some Ford Mustang Tri-Bar wheels on it, and then our friends at Vredestein gave us some LT245/75R17 Pinza AT off-road tires to wrap around those wheels. It looks like a serious off-road rig, but it didn’t actually do any wheeling in California. Now, that was my job.

Taking the Murano off-road had a lot of practical applications for us. We’d be able to test out the meaty tires, and then test the PPF by brushing the Murano against rocks, trees, and brush. It’s extremely common for an off-road vehicle to get so-called ‘pinstripes’ in its paint after tackling a tight enough trail. But not everyone wants to roll around with paint damage like that. So, it’s a great test for the XPEL.

Admittedly, the part that I was most excited by was getting to do something so typically Mercedes. I am known in some off-roading circles for doing the most with the least. I love seeing just how far I could get a Ford Festiva or a little scooter into the wilderness.

The Murano CrossCabriolet is more capable than most of the vehicles that I’ve taken on a Gambler 500, but it also isn’t exactly a real off-road rig, either. There’s a big ol’ AWD badge on the back of the Murano, but this system isn’t doing anything particularly impressive. In normal operations, the front wheels are doing all of the work. If slippage is detected, a transfer clutch sends up to 50 percent of available torque to the rear axle. The Nissan AWD system also allows you to “lock” the AWD system into a 50:50 distribution at low speeds. However, like other clutch-based AWD systems, it’ll switch back to FWD mode if the clutch gets too hot.

This makes the Murano more capable when the going gets tough than a standard front-wheel-drive vehicle, but it’s far less capable than you get with a hardcore rig with locking differentials, a low range, locking hubs, and so on. Shoot, it’s less capable than something that gets by with just a limited-slip differential and no lockers. The Nissan’s situation is set back further with its CVT, which you have no real control over.

Still, at least from what I could tell, we gave the Murano some decent ground clearance, and perhaps accidentally, it seems the CrossCab also has decent ramp angles. I figured I could make it work.

Griffin and I dedicated an entire day to off-roading. We drove roughly 500 miles from Los Angeles to Munds Park, Arizona, where we set down our stakes on the first night. You may recall that I said that we’d be off-roading in Flagstaff. Some of you sent warnings that Flagstaff was snowed in, and the trails weren’t open. Apparently, when Griffin told me that we’d be off-roading in Flagstaff, he was just talking about the general area that we’d be nearby.

When we hit the road on the second day of the trip, we really drove to Sedona. That made more sense as Sedona didn’t have a bit of snow at the time. We didn’t do this trip alone, and instead, we had a well-equipped Jeep Gladiator as an escort and rescue vehicle. On that day, I challenged myself to do everything that the Jeep did.

Getting Dirty

Our journey started at Schnebly Hill Road. This trail starts near I-17 and then proceeds downhill into Sedona. Or, you can take it the other direction and drive up. Trail guides call this an easy trail. Now, I have a different rating scale than some guides. If you can do it in a lightly modified Honda Civic, it’s super duper easy. When an automaker has journalists try a new SUV or truck off-road, the courses often aren’t harder than I could do in a Smart.

The trail did start off like that at first. Sure, there were lots of washboards, but not a single challenge to traction or ground clearance. But, in a near instant, the trail changed from a Sunday drive to a minefield of rocks. The Autopian reader behind the wheel of the rescue rig warned that Schnebly Hill has suffered from a ton of erosion in the past year, so it was no longer as easy as the trail guides say. I didn’t have any fear.

In fact, I was so stoked to go off-roading in the CrossCab that I was barely into the entrance of the trail when I pulled over, dropped the CrossCab’s roof, and got behind the wheel with a smile. It was only 45 degrees outside, and I didn’t care one bit.

The trail was easy in the beginning portion. I didn’t even put on AWD Lock, nor do I believe I ever got any slippage. Then, we arrived at a clearing, which allowed me to get some epic views of Arizona.

It was here that I tried to reverse the CrossCab into a spot for a good photo opportunity. I didn’t pay full attention, and backed the CrossCab into a large boulder the size of a small boulder. This popped the rear bumper out and then ejected one of the rear exhaust tips. I pulled forward off the boulder and popped the bumper back in. Amazingly, the XPEL PPF held up really well, and there was no evidence of my goof.

Unfortunately, the CrossCab didn’t appreciate this and retaliated against me immediately. The driver door handle jammed, which is something that it sometimes does because the handle is broken into two pieces. I thought, maybe, if I pulled with a lot of force, the door would work every time. Well, I was right, but the broken handle decided to take about a one millimeter slice of my palm as payback for the boulder incident.

This is when we discovered that, along with no tools and no spare parts, the emergency kit that we had in the CrossCab was woefully inadequate. It had nothing for wounds or any other trail damage that could occur to a human. I ended up making a bandage out of paper towels, hand sanitizer, and Gorilla Tape.

Anyway, Schnebly Hill got wild immediately after this vista. It was non-stop rock crawling for what felt like hours.

Rock Minefield

The CrossCab impressed me here. There was never a time on the course when the tires spun, never a time when I felt like the CrossCab was out of its element, and never a time when I even scraped the undercarriage. The rescue Jeep had a trailer hitch on the back that frequently scraped. But the CrossCab? It was easy. Once I realized that the CrossCab handled the rocks without breaking a sweat, I leaned back, turned on my heated seat, and just settled in for a cruise.

I think that’s what I loved most about the CrossCab out there. It wasn’t just capable enough to handle the rocks, but since Nissan tried to make it a luxury halo car, it was supremely comfortable. Here I was surrounded by leather, a decent Bose sound system, and an HVAC system so powerful that I felt warm even with the top down.

I also adored how people reacted to the CrossCab. Schnebly Hill is a favorite for Wrangler, Bronco, 4Runner drivers and the like. I saw a Suzuki Samurai, I saw a few pickup trucks, and I saw countless side-by-sides. I even saw one of those pink Jeeps that are used for tours out here. The Nissan stood out in the crowd for sure.

It wasn’t just me who noticed it, either. It seemed like every third Jeep, Toyota, or Ford driver had to stop in their tracks to ask me what I was driving and if it came from the factory without a roof.

I am not exaggerating when I say that every single person who stopped was impressed with the CrossCab. But those people had good reason to be impressed. This Murano was never made for off-roading. Yet, here I was, miles away from anything resembling pavement, and the CrossCab wasn’t just getting it done, but it was doing it with the ease of something that was made for the task.

However, Griffin told me that this was only the start. The real challenge would come later. After completing Schnebly Hill, we drove over to a spot called Broken Arrow, which has areas like Submarine Rock and the Devil’s Staircase. Apparently, these are also famous Jeep spots.

Scraping The Bottom

Broken Arrow gave the CrossCab a real test. Schnebly Hill might have had millions of rocks, but, in my eyes, it wasn’t a real challenge for the vehicle’s ramp angles, ground clearance or AWD system. Granted, a lot of that was because of the lift kit and the Vredestein tires. The CrossCab just felt that confident.

Broken Arrow was different. There were steep rock climbs, uneven surfaces, drops, stairs, nearly blind ascents, and obstacles that you need real capability to clear. The only vehicles out here were Jeeps and high-end side-by-sides.

Broken Arrow started easy enough. I drove slowly, entered obstacles at a crawl, and then throttled out. Every once in a while, I heard the CrossCab’s undercarriage scrape, but life was good. There was one rock that had such a steep drop that I high-sided the CrossCab. My solution? Throttle out. I heard the sad scrapes of the exhaust, but the crossover pulled itself and kept rocking like nothing had happened.

The exhaust wasn’t the only part getting scraped, either, as we bashed the CrossCab up against some brush and trees, intentionally wrecking both sides with dings and pinstripes. I was amazed that the XPEL side of the vehicle held up really well. Yes, some pinstripes are in the XPEL side, but it doesn’t look nearly bad as the unprotected side.

If I could have any complaint about our CrossCab build, it’s that we did nothing for underbody protection. The front bumper cover has a plastic air dam that pretends to be a skid plate. That’s it. That’s all the CrossCab has for protection.

This meant that I had to be extra careful. I had a 3,500-mile drive ahead of me, and it would have been foolish to give the CrossCab a full send like I would do with most vehicles off-road. At the same time, I could not be too timid, either. I quickly learned that if I came close to a stop before taking on an obstacle, the CrossCab just wouldn’t get enough power to the ground to climb over it. Shoot, the CrossCab wouldn’t even spin the tires. It would just sit there making angry VQ V6 noises while the CVT tried and failed to get things moving.

To get around this limitation, I made sure to carry momentum into every obstacle. But it had to come with some finesse. Too much energy, and I’d be banging the unprotected underbody. Too little momentum, and I wouldn’t clear the course.

Most of the time, this worked swimmingly well. I’d hit an obstacle with just a little speed, then, once I cleared the part most likely to damage the underbody, that’s when I buried the throttle. The CrossCab was triumphant most times. Every once in a while, we would run into a small group of side-by-sides, and I could see them doing double takes at this Nissan crossover powering through legitimately difficult terrain. There was even one time when I drove by a side-by-side, and the driver uttered a ‘Jesus Christ,’ possibly in disbelief at what she was seeing.

Then, the CrossCab met its match. There’s an obstacle called Submarine Rock, and I’m told it’s called that because the rock formation looks like a submarine. I wasn’t sure about that. What I was sure about was that the entrance to this trail was some serious business. In front of the CrossCab was a giant rock staircase. I watched the rescue Gladiator climb the obstacle, and our dear reader had to floor it and spin their tires to get to the top. They didn’t get stuck, but it wasn’t easy, either.

Now, any reasonable person would have concluded that the CrossCab didn’t stand a chance, but I’m not a reasonable person. I tried for it, anyway. The first problem was that the rocks had two grooves in them, presumably from 4x4s wearing them down over time. This left a center section that was too high for the front part of the undercarriage to clear. Since I didn’t have a skid plate, I just couldn’t chance taking the normal like Jeeps do.

This meant straddling the grooves and riding on top of the ridge that would have damaged the undercarriage. That solved my problem with scraping the bottom of the CrossCab, but now the CrossCab had to do a significantly steeper climb. Worse, it had to do this climb with very little energy at the start.

This time, the CrossCab just couldn’t do it. The tires had enough traction, and I had enough ground clearance most of the time. But the engine just couldn’t pull the CrossCab up. I didn’t even get wheelspin. I just sat there revving. In theory, I could have made the obstacle with more speed, but who knows what would have happened under the car. Still, I made it about 30 percent of the way up, and I think that was admirable for the CrossCab.

Eventually, we gave up and hit another trail. That trail was interesting because there were times when the CrossCab was on two wheels on opposite corners. For example, for brief moments, only the left front wheel and the right rear wheel would be touching the ground. Or, maybe only three wheels would be touching. When I got into these situations, I felt the AWD system kick in, which often provided just enough of a push to get me through.

The CrossCab Gets Beaten

The grand finale was the so-called Devil’s Staircase. As you can guess from the trail’s name, it’s a steep and very rocky hill. A lot of Jeeps drive down it. The CrossCab had been so impressive that none of us had any doubts that it would be able to handle the staircase, especially since I was going down it and not up it.

Unfortunately, the CrossCab’s limitations won out one more time. There’s one tall ramp that you have to climb to get to the start of the Devil’s Staircase. Jeeps have no problem with this ramp, but it was tricky in the CrossCab. When I hit this ramp with some speed, the front end crashed into the rocks. In theory, if I had a real skid plate, I’d just bump the plate and roll up.

But since the bottom of the CrossCab was plastic, I decided against that. Instead, I rolled up to the ramp and punched it. I had a good enough approach angle and good enough ground clearance. But the CrossCab just couldn’t muster enough power to get up the ramp. There were times when I got close to just brute-forcing the CrossCab up the ramp, but the CVT seemed to lose effectiveness, and generated a smell that I’d best describe as “hot.” Once again, I thought about the fact that I had 3,500 miles to drive, and backed down.

The Aftermath

Now, let’s take a look at the hits the CrossCabriolet took to both sides in my intentional brush-banging extravaganza. The photo above is what the vehicle looks like after my 4,050-mile road trip and after living in a northern Illinois winter for a couple of weeks. The right side of the vehicle is unprotected.

Here is the protected side:

Now, let’s zoom in and take a look at what happened to the unprotected side. Check out all of the pinstripes and gouges in the bumper:

The fender doesn’t look any better:

The door also took a banging:

It doesn’t get any better when zooming out:

The right rear quarter looks pretty sad, with lots of deep pits and dings:

Now, let’s look at the XPEL side! I continue to be impressed at how the left side of the vehicle has held up. If you watch the embedded video, you’ll see that I intentionally brushed this vehicle against brush, tree branches, and small logs. I showed it no mercy!

Yet, here’s the bumper, which looks a million times better on this side:

I won’t lie, there are pinstripes on the XPEL side, but they aren’t nearly as aggressive. Perhaps most importantly, none of them breaches the XPEL film. The film is 10 mil (0.01 inches) thick, and, to my eyes, is seriously tough. Anyway, take a look:

Let’s zoom in! Yes, the fender is pretty beat, but the film is holding up well.

Something I really like is where this pinstripe is at the top of the left fender. The line is pretty faint. Then it transitions into a deep and darker line as the pinstripe goes into the unprotected plastic at the base of the side mirror:

Here’s the rear quarter:

Another close shot:

Another angle of the left fender:

Here’s the left door again:

Something I was also impressed by was how well the XPEL protected the rear bumper after I reversed into the boulder that I talked about earlier. These two deep scratches were the only breaches in the XPEL:

XPEL is designed to heal itself in the sun. This means that, after you scrape the car up, it should look better over time. Indeed, I took these pictures long after the damage had been done, and the XPEL does look better than it does in the video.

But the most important thing, I think, is that even if the XPEL does get scratches in it, those scratches are not in the paint of the vehicle. If we peeled the XPEL off the CrossCab, the left side should look so much better than the right side. Remember, all of the damage on the right side is directly in the paint. Those pinstripes are now there permanently. The same cannot be said for the left side of the car.

I think it’s also worth noting that the damage that you see here was intentional. We tried to generate as many dings and pinstripes as possible. In other words, we’ve more or less recreated the worst-case scenario.

I think the result is clear. XPEL paint protection film does a great job. Pinstripes and dings are a normal part of off-roading, but not everyone sees pinstripes as things to be proud of. If you want to go wheeling without the worry of the flora digging into your expensive ride’s paint, I think getting some PPF will go a long way to keeping your ride looking nice.

An Off-Road Underdog

But you know what? I’m not at all sad. The Nissan Murano CrossCabriolet was never designed to do Schnebly Hill, Broken Arrow, or any of the trails I did that day. The fact that the CrossCab did just as well as a Jeep Gladiator on 95 percent of the trails is a triumph to me.

In fact, I ended that day with the opinion that, given a Wrangler, a Bronco, or a CrossCab, I’d take the CrossCab. It goes top down just like those SUVs, and I feel more gratification pushing the CrossCab through an obstacle than I would doing the same in a Bronco. Is the CrossCab even 75 percent as capable as a Bronco? I don’t think so. But I think that just makes it an underdog.

However, I think our CrossCab needs one key modification before its next off-road trip. There’s nothing we can do about the CVT, but we can give it underbody protection. Give the CrossCab robust protection, and I think it would go even farther than I took it.

At the very least, the CrossCab came out of the ordeal in good shape. I had to zip tie the air dam back on, and the exhaust tips became dented up, but that’s about it! Unlike the time when I took Ski-Klasse off-roading, the CrossCab left the trails with as many parts it entered with.