The nip-tuck truck

WHATEVER bubble-headed robots there are in Detroit ought to be flailing their flexible rubber arms right about now, because the new Honda Ridgeline -- the company’s first foray into the land of pickups -- means danger, danger, Will Robinson.

Not that the Ridgeline will steal so many sales from Detroit. The Honda’s expected annual production of 50,000 units is a rounding error to the Big Three, which together with Nissan and Toyota sell almost 3 million pickups a year.

But the Ridgeline is so scary good, so smart and so instantly likable that it’s going to send everybody back to pickup school. Oh, the pain, the pain.

You might think “Honda” and “pickup” go together like “Bill O’Reilly” and “perfect gentleman,” but company execs argue that it has a long history in the light-truck market. U.S. sales of Honda CR-V, Element, Odyssey (a minivan, but a light truck by some fed standards) and Pilot, and the Acura MDX, total more than half a million vehicles.

Of course, that’s wiggling the definition of “truck” pretty good. All of these are light-duty, unit-bodied, front- or all-wheel-drive vehicles and not the body-on-frame, solid-axle, mountain-motored mules Americans consider proper pickups. More on that later.

Honda sees the pickup market expanding 4% by 2009, with most of that growth in the “lifestyle” pickup, sport-utility truck, category -- they of the short beds, big four doors, lux leather interiors and trick mid-gates, such as the Chevy Avalanche, Nissan Titan and Ford SportTrac.

The Ridgeline, debuting in March, surveys the gradual diversification of the pickup market and kicks it through the window.

For starters, the Ridgeline -- a unit-bodied, all-wheel-drive, mid-size pickup powered by a modest V6 -- abandons the trite verities of the Amuurican pickup typology. Pickups emerged in the 1930s as service vehicles used primarily for work. But by the 1990s, the domestication of the traditional single-cab pickup was well underway, with the introduction of crew and club cabs, multiple doors and other civilities.

And yet they retained, and retain, the heavy-duty, ladder-chassis architecture and tugboat torque that make possible 10,000-pound towing capacities and 1-ton hauling. For about half a million pickup buyers annually, those who use their pickups mostly for commuting duty, all this represents excess capacity.

But not unnecessary, exactly. As a piece of culture code, the big pickup conveys its owner’s fealty to the Protestant work ethic that makes American capitalism possible. (What would Max Weber drive?) It’s the vehicle of plumbing contractors and ranchers, of self-starters and sole proprietors. Its presence in millions of driveways seems to say, “We never close.”

No matter how wealthy or idle they are, American men like to think of themselves as working-class, and the big pickup laminates those credentials.

The Ridgeline excuses itself from this conversation by virtue of its construction. Most pickups -- even mid-sizers -- have bodies and beds attached to ladder frames of boxed steel, a design that maximizes towing and cargo capacity. The Ridgeline has a unit-body (steel body panels welded together to be self-supporting, like cars) with a light-duty ladder chassis integrated underneath. (Jeep Grand Cherokee and Land Rover LR3 use a similar design.)

The Ridgeline trades away a degree of towing capacity (5,000 pounds compared with a Toyota Tundra’s 6,500 pounds and the Avalanche’s 8,000 pounds) for huge advantages in body rigidity, ride and handling, and overall stability. In other words, it feels like a car because it’s built like a car.

Also, the Ridgeline is the first pickup to have four-wheel independent suspension. Other trucks use solid rear axles and leaf springs to handle the weight of cargo. But solid rear ends have a lot of dynamic liabilities, including unloaded shake, axle tramping and cornering instability -- which is to say the rear ends slide around a lot, which can make pickups fairly dicey on low-traction surfaces.

I drove the Ridgeline in a daylong test last week, including drives with competitive trucks, and it’s no stretch to say it has the best ride and handling of any pickup, ever. The turn-in is crisp and precise and the line-holding in a corner is excellent even over rough pavement that tends to load and unload the suspension. If you have driven a Honda Accord, you know what the Ridgeline ride is like, only taller.

Compared with the Ridgeline, the Chevy Avalanche feels as unstable as its namesake.

The Ridgeline powertrain is a far cry from the iron lungs and bus axles of big pickups. Under the hood is Honda’s 3.5-liter, 24-valve V6 producing 255 horsepower, which feels a little thin at highway speeds. This motor is no bottomless well of torque, either. Even with its dual-stage intake manifold and variable-valve timing, it can only manage 252 pound-feet of torque.

Anticipating that this engine might work up a sweat while towing the bourgeoisie’s boats and camper barges, Honda beefed up its five-speed automatic transmission and kitted the Ridgeline with big radiators, power steering and transmission coolers.

But you can’t complain about its efficiency. The Ridgeline returns EPA mileage of 16/21 miles per gallon, city/highway, while exceeding the EPA’s stricter new Tier 2 emission standards. Meanwhile, the Ridgeline has impressive payload capacity. Its rating of 1,549 pounds is higher than the F-150 or the Dodge Dakota and just about even with the full-size Tundra (1,580 pounds).

Using an AWD system like the ones under its sport utilities, Honda has equipped the Ridgeline with what it calls VTM-4 (Variable Torque Management). On level pavement, the Ridgeline is essentially a front-drive vehicle, but if the vehicle sensors detect slippage it will automatically apportion power to the rear wheels. The rear differential is equipped with limited-slip clutches and an electro-magnetically actuated locking mechanism for extrication from really slippery stuff. Thanks to a serpentine engine-air intake, the Ridgeline’s fording depth is a very respectable 18.5 inches.

Unfortunately for all those aftermarket manufacturers salivating at the prospect of another Honda to modify, the Ridgeline cannot easily be jacked up or dropped down, or even shod with 22-inch dubs, due to its independent suspension geometry.

What does it all add up to? A blue-state pickup. The portage duty the Ridgeline is assigned isn’t cement, or table saws or lumber (though a 48-inch piece of plywood will sit flat on the bed floor). It’s motorcycles and ATVs and climbing gear, the bric-a-brac of affluent leisure. It can’t pull a road-grader up a hill but it can haul a 22-foot boat up the ramp at Lake Shasta.

This bobos-in-paradise mission statement is carved into its smoothly integrated body styling: sleek, sophisticated, highly machined and -- parked next to its pickup competitors -- seeming from a future century. The thing looks like a Heckler & Koch assault rifle.

So what has Detroit got to worry about? Honda isn’t expecting a lot of conquest sales from full-size truck buyers, though the times they are a’changin’ and the market is growing a little weary of the big trucks’ liabilities of parking and economy.

Honda will sell out of Ridgelines -- built in Ontario, Canada -- if only a fraction of Honda drivers who also own pickups jump to the Ridgeline.

But the Ridgeline is full of market-transforming features, such as the lockable trunk under the pickup bed. This is a heck of an idea: a weather-resistant compartment situated between the rear wheels and the bumper about the size of a 50-gallon Igloo cooler. It even has a drain plug so you can fill it with ice and keep drinks cold. May I suggest another use? Bait well?

This compartment makes the diamond-steel toolbox obsolete, so maybe there is a job site in the Ridgeline’s future, after all.

The Ridgeline’s bed is only 5 feet long -- about average for mid-size pickups -- but the tailgate has a 300-pound load capacity, so that you can park an ATV or motorcycles in the back with the wheels secured to the tailgate. This same tailgate is “dual action,” opening like a swing gate to make access to the trunk easier. How cool is that?

This thing is loaded with safety equipment, including four-channel ABS disc brakes, traction control, vehicle stability control, side curtain and seat bolster air bags, and tire-pressure monitoring, all standard.

The Ridgeline starts at about $28,000 (the RT model), and a fully decked Ridgeline RTL, with leather seats, moon roof, XM radio and navigation system, will cost about $35,715. (Prices have not yet been announced.)

That is 2 tons of value on a half-ton chassis. So while the pickup majors are figuring out how to copy the Ridgeline’s slick storage features, dual- action tailgate and Swiss-knife versatility, they may also have to redesign their window stickers.

Automotive critic Dan Neil can be reached at dan.neil @latimes.com.

*

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX)

2006 Honda Ridgeline

Price, as tested: $35,715 (est.)

Powertrain: 3.5-liter SOHC, 24-valve V6 with variable-valve timing; five-speed automatic transmission; full-time all-wheel drive; limited slip rear differential with electronic locking feature.

Horsepower: 255 at 5,750 rpm

Torque: 252 pound-feet at 4,500 rpm

Curb weight: 4,498 pounds

0-60 mph: n/a

EPA mileage: 16 miles per gallon city, 21 highway

Towing capacity: 5,000 pounds

Cargo capacity: 1,549 pounds

Gross combined vehicle weight rating: 10,085

Wheelbase: 122 inches

Overall length: 106.8

Final thoughts: Pickup artist