The Nissan Armada NISMO Is Somehow Both Ironically And Unironically Enjoyable At The Same Time

I try not to ask automakers for vehicles we’ve already reviewed to soon after we reviewed them. What, exactly, am I going to say that hasn’t already been said? Whatever mild strengths I have as a writer, I think I’m only an average car reviewer. Curiosity does get the better of me and I sometimes can’t help but scratch an itch.

The Nissan Armada NISMO is one of those vehicles I couldn’t stop thinking about after it debuted. I don’t write that many posts on new cars, either, usually leaving that Thomas or someone else. When I first glanced the slightly lowered, extremely boy racer full-sized SUV I couldn’t help myself.

Deciding to give a sporty NISMO trim level to its biggest truck as opposed to, say, the Sentra, made no sense to me. At the same time, the wrongness of it seemed extremely right to me, as I mentioned in my quick post:

It’s so overdone that it becomes its own thing, like a Charburger. BTW, have you ever had a Charburger from Habit Burger? We did the giant family Charbox thing last night for David’s birthday, and it was surprisingly good. Tempura green beans? Genius!

Maybe this is good. The interior looks like Kylo Ren’s sex dungeon, but not in a bad way, if that makes sense. Almost nothing about this car makes sense.

As happens, Brian asked if he could have it for a long road trip, and I wanted to be nice so I let him take the first pass at it. He did a full review, so if you want to hear about how it performed, you should go read that.

What I want to write about is how it made me feel, which was super happy.

Why Does This Silly Car Exist?

This is a silly car. Right? The whole class of SUV is a little ridiculous, as who really needs an eight-passenger vehicle all the time? Nissan’s version, at least, is attractive in every trim, and competitive in a way that not all that company’s vehicles are anymore. With the Toyota Land Cruiser downsizing, it’s the last big non-luxury Japanese SUV for sale in the US (the luxury one is the six-figure Lexus LX).

Nissan does offer a PRO-4X version of the Armada, because it’s an SUV and selling more capable trims is something basically everyone does. Sporty versions are rarer, but not completely uncommon, given the existence of both the Alpina XB7 and Escalade V, as well as various other German über SUVs.

There are two big differences. First, while expensive, the most loaded version is $83,735, are half the cost of many of its possible rivals. Second, just look at it! So many big choices were made. Choices that make me very happy.

Is Irony The Postmodern Disease Or Is It The Cure?

The kind of irony that defines a lot of my interactions with the world, and a lot of postmodern thought in general, is based on the concept that sincerity is, itself, somehow insincere. Because we all have the Internet and can quickly know how something is made, because we can quickly find out everything about everyone who made it, the concept of enjoying something is itself a suspicious act, full of meaning and fraught with peril.

A shield we can wield to protect ourselves from introspection or, worse, from external judgment, is irony. When I enjoy something like a huge, expensive, gas-guzzling SUV, I can tell myself I’m appreciating it ironically. This is The Roomification of our universe.

Is ironic appreciation the inevitable outcome of postmodern thought or, maybe, is it the mechanism by which we can enjoy things we secretly like? Is it the disease, or the cure for the disease? For me, it acts like a sort of live virus vaccine, weakening any criticism by making it in a sort of detached appreciation.

What the Nissan Armada NISMO offers is a challenge, because the aspects of it I enjoy ironically are in equal measure to the things I like about it unironically.

The Unironically Good Things

I took this camping. I took the sporty-ish, tow-something-to-the-track Armada to a race track to watch cars at Watkins Glen. With all the bodykit, this thing looks approximately twice as big as it actually is, but it still had enough for me to pack basically everything.

Mercedes showed up with a tent, a chair, and a Murano CrossCab. I showed up with the contents of my apartment. Different strokes, I guess.

It’s still an extremely comfortable place to be, and the displays have these things called buttons underneath them, and the buttons do things when you push them. It’s wild. The button theme has been taken so far that even the transmission is a button.

I have mixed feelings on that, but the general feeling of the Armada is that there’s all the technology you need and want. This is opposed to most other brands, which give you all the technology you need and then a lot of unnecessary crap you don’t want.

Many miles were put on the Armada and it was easy to drive, and quite enjoyable as a large SUV. I would definitely put it into consideration alongside the Expedition and Tahoe if you want something body-on-frame.

The Ironically Good Things

Here’s how I ended my write-up of the reveal:

You can tow your Z to the track, but you’ll probably not want to race it.

Do I want to race it, though? Sort of, yeah. I’m going to see if I can get one of these for Lime Rock’s Autocross. It’s entirely the wrong place for it, which is why it feels so right.

So, about that. I should clarify that you’re not supposed to take cars onto the track for truly fast driving without clearing it with the automaker first. So, of course, when we announced a track day for Lime Rock Park, my plan was just to have the NISMO to move stuff around during the day.

Some people did show up without cars they could drive on track, including my buddy Richard, and it seemed a shame that, with all the room, and a 460 hp V6, that I wouldn’t at least do some sighting laps at the same speeds I’d drive on the backroads leading up to Lime Rock.

Big credit to freudian-slip-angle for using a lot of photo trickery and the right lens to make this look faster than it was. Obviously, the heft of the Armada means that you’re way better off towing a Z to the track and using that than trying to use the tow vehicle itself, but it’s also surprisingly not bad for its size. Even the best-handling large SUV (the Alpina XB7) is only so-so when you compare it to any lighter car with even basic sporting intentions, so I didn’t really feel like I needed more than what the Armada was giving me.

Where the NISMO excels is in looking absolutely hilarious in every situation. The people on the inside were laughing. The people on the outside were laughing. I’m laughing just looking at the photos. I like to think we’re all laughing with the Armada and not at it. Its mere presence brings joy.

And that’s the best thing about the NISMO. In 98% of driving situations, it’s just a competent, cushy, and pleasant place to be.  Then you look at it and smile, because it’s so amazingly overdone. The red highlights on the rockers, the bosozoku rear bumper, the blacked-out grille that could double as the entrance to Mordor. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

Yet, basically everywhere I went, I got compliments. As with the Murano CrossCabriolet, there’s an interesting split between people who think it’s custom (about 80% of the folks I met) and the car nerds who immediately recognize what it is. A guy with a freaking manual Toyota X-Runner went out of his way at a gas station to tell me how much he liked it, and he was the second person at that particular fill up to give me dap.

The more that I think about it, the more I’m starting to think that even my ironic detachment isn’t really that detached.

Top photo: freudian-slip-angle