I am bleary-eyed and emotionally edgy after a crack-of-dawn flight to Dulles. Dragging two young kids across the country has a way of doing that to me. As I scan the long aisles of the rental lot, I pray that spot 179—my spot—is filled with something interesting. I booked a full-size sedan, so my bar for “interesting” is low: a Mazda 6 or Toyota Camry would satisfy.
But there is no full-size sedan waiting for me. Instead, a $40k silver-over-custard Lexus NX 300 is parked in 179. This is a pleasant twist to my day! Here is a chance to drive a brand with which I respect but have little experience.
Ah, Lexus. I’ve taken a few lackluster test drives in Toyota’s gems, but I’ve never bought or even rented a Lexus. My (unjustifiably biased) opinion is that the manufacturer makes reliable appliances wrapped in luxury trimmings but not driver’s cars to wax lyrical about.
Okay, Lexus’s LC 500, IS 500, and GS F intrigue me. (Bulletproof reliability is a strong lure after my scarring relationship with the E90 M3!) But other brands’ track-focused whips have always displaced Lexus on my shopping list.)
Which brings me back to the NX 300 in spot 179: Its serrated body looks ready to split sea ice in the Northwest Passage, and its gaping maw seems primed to vacuum up scurrying rodents from backwoods highways. Its styling is diametrically opposed to the 1999 RX 300—the egg-shaped SUV with iron-skillet reliability that started America’s luxury crossover craze—but it shares the original RX 300’s dimensions, power and purpose. Will the NX 300 help me understand the roots and persistence of our crossover love affair?
Maybe… But enough idle ruminations, it’s time to conclude this horrible day of travel.
I open the NX 300’s rear doors to install my kids’ car seats. “Yellow!” calls out my youngest as she spots the light-colored seats. She’s not wrong. Inside, the SUV has an egg-cream interior that looks much classier than my typical rental fare. Surprisingly, although the car has suffered two years and 31k miles of rental fleet abuse, the cabin still looks smart and fresh.
Once the child seats are secure, I’ll pop the trunk to load our luggage. The motorized hatch is painfully slow to open, and when it completes its glacial pivot, the available stowage is disappointingly small. Our large checked suitcase, single rollaboard, and compact stroller fit beneath the privacy cover, but I have to remove the cover to stow our backpacks, too.
With the family and gear in their proper places, I get into mine: the driver’s seat.
The steering wheel is familiar from the IS 350, but the dashboard is different. A floating infotainment screen tops a stack of physical HVAC and radio controls. Lexus’s antiquated haptic-feedback trackpad sits alongside the shifter. While the infotainment technology is outdated (the NX was redesigned for the 2022 model year), the angular dash remains attractive, and the upholstery is high quality. My eyes and hands agree that this is a luxury interior.
The roads leading away from Dulles appear immaculately surfaced. Having just walked past planes from all around the world, I imagine the pristine paving is a message for visiting dignitaries, “Welcome to America, bitches.” Yet, strangely, as I drive away from the airport, the NX 300’s suspension transmits sharp jolts into the cabin. It is my first time on these roads, so I don’t know if the Lexus or Virginia DOT is to blame.
Once on the highway, I understand the suspension tune better. The NX 300 corners with the body control of a sedan but rides firmer to compensate for its lifted center of gravity. The SUV is not as stiff-kneed as my Tesla Model 3, but it’s also not as comfortable as the grandma-approved Cadillac XT4, a direct competitor. I’d trade some of the NX 300’s body control for a more wafting ride. Or, even better, I’d take an adjustable suspension to pick based on my mood.
But my mood right now is focused: make it to the hotel and don’t fall asleep on the way. So I don’t pay too much attention to the drivetrain performance (the engine power and transmission response are adequate) or the driving feedback (the steering and chassis delivery clear whispers about the road grain and tire impacts).
Once I make it to DC, I get lucky and find street parking near the hotel. Thanks to its compact footprint, good turning radius and legible backup camera, the NX 300 slides into the tight spot.
After a good night’s sleep, I’m ready to reappraise the NX 300 with fresh eyes. I drive my family through the heart of DC, viewing national monuments and visiting museums. After lunch, we take historic parkways over the hills and through the woods to suburban Virginia. (Yes, to grandmother’s house we go.)
The initial impressions of the NX 300 as a pleasant car-like conveyance stand and new impressions are layered on top:
In Normal drive mode, the 2.0L four-cylinder engine delivers torque so linearly that I think it is naturally aspirated. (It’s not.) But its 235 horses feel merely adequate at pushing the 4,000 lb SUV.
On the highway, the engine noise disappears entirely, and the wind noise is subdued, but loud tire whir spoils the silence. My rental’s 225/65R17 Dunlop GrandTrek ST30 tires are worn thin; would new rubber improve the acoustics?
Though there are paddles on the steering wheel, I’m never tempted to use them. The 6-speed automatic transmission is smartly programmed and always in the right gear for today’s unhurried driving. Frankly, the 6-speed is so competent that I wonder why the competition needs 8, 9 and 10-speed transmissions. Perhaps they boost fuel economy? The Lexus returns ~25 mpg in my mixed driving.
The NX 300’s stylishly-raked windscreen is a sore spot. Because of its short height, I have to duck to see stop lights, and the rearview mirror is level with my eyes, blocking a slice of the road ahead. (Shorter drivers may not have these problems.) Similarly, the elongated A-pillars create blindspots where pedestrians might be stepping off the curb.
But none of this diminishes the fact that the NX 300 is comfortable and competent in urban and suburban environments.
On my final day, just a few miles short of the rental car return, I realize I’ve yet to try Sport mode. I blame the NX 300; nothing about this luxuriously relaxed SUV calls for a hoon. Regardless, I twist the drive mode selector to the right, and the throttle mapping adjusts for a peppier response. Any questions about the engine’s aspiration are immediately put aside; I now feel obvious turbo torque underfoot. At the first on-ramp, I thwack the gas pedal to the floor, and the four-cylinder sings out in a refined thrum as the NX 300 smoothly hustles forward. This SUV is still no speed racer, but it’s no laggard, either.
Riding back to Dulles on the rental shuttle, I consider my weekend with Lexus. Like the RX 300 that preceded it, the NX 300 is a comfortable family SUV and urban get-around. It’s well made and offers all the high-riding easy-loading advantages that come with a crossover of this size. I think a softer suspension—more like the original RX 300—would accentuate its charms, but otherwise, it’s good!
But the NX 300 hasn’t changed my outlook on Lexus. My rental suggests their priority is comfort and quality at the expense of driver involvement and class-leading technology. I’m happy to have received the chill NX 300 instead of a Mazda6 or Camry, but the Lexus brand has yet to spark my passion.
Mike's Steering Column 