Mr. Smith would approve

It’s my first day on the job, I’m supposed to deliver a Chrysler Pacifica review, and already I have to write a correction.

OK, here goes: Because of what might charitably be called “editing errors,” in some editions of The Times published in May through July 1912, stories concerning the Times Ocean-to-Ocean expedition -- a transcontinental auto trip sponsored by publisher Gen. Harrison Gray Otis and reported by auto editor Bert C. Smith -- may have given readers the impression that the effort was the first successful transcontinental auto trip. It was not.

The first such drive was completed in 1903 by Horatio Nelson Jackson, mechanic Sewell K. Crocker and a bulldog named Bud (who, if travails had escalated, might have been renamed “Lunch”). The 1903 expedition is the subject of sepia-toned documentarian Ken Burns’ “Horatio’s Drive: America’s First Road Trip,” airing Oct. 6 on PBS stations.

We regret the confusion.

Not that The Times effort wasn’t interesting. It was a hoot. The Times “machine,” as it was called, carried Smith, driver John Zak and Col. Dell M. Potter, national organizer of the Ocean-to-Ocean Highway Assn., from one bleeding-kidney adventure to another. On May 21, the expedition discovered A.E. Weeks of Whittier dying of thirst in the Arizona desert. They rescued him, owing to the fact that he was a Republican. A week later, the car caught fire and Zak was forced to drive into a river to put out the flames.

The two-month, 3,000-mile adventure was chronicled by Smith in the tones of breathless, eye- brimming triumphalism commonplace in Gilded Age journalism and Fox News. From a wireless dispatch of July 12: “President Taft received the automobile editor of The Times by special appointment at 10 o’clock this morning at the White House, where the first citizen of the republic listened to the story of the ocean-to-ocean tour of The Times car from Los Angeles to Washington.... With his face aglow the President said he thought the tour was a most creditable undertaking.”

Ninety-one years later, Taft, Zak, Potter and Smith have all been subjected to what one hopes was creditable undertaking. And I now have the seat once occupied by the illustrious Smith, and, boy, does it smell strange.

Like Smith, I too organized a cross-country expedition, but in the other direction, from Raleigh, N.C., to Los Angeles. Traveling with me was my sweetheart, Tina; her dog Lunch ... I mean, Tara; my cat Flinch; and Harry the canary. Unlike Smith -- who made the journey in a steaming, wobbly, highly flammable, state-of-the-art jalopy -- I had a choice of vehicles.

An SUV? A minivan? A station wagon?

I chose the 2004 Chrysler Pacifica, which is none of and all of the above.

The nomenclature gets a little squirmy here. Morphologically, the Pacifica is a station wagon, a two-box profile with four front-hinged doors, but with a top-hinged, nearly vertical rear hatch like a minivan. It is tall sided, with ample freeboard below the shoulder line, like a sport utility vehicle; however, it is a unibody design, compared to the body-on-frame construction of a traditional SUV. The design trades off some grit and towing capability for a lower center of gravity and less weight. Though available with front-wheel drive, most Pacificas will feature all-wheel-drive powertrains, the better to brave the wind-chapped moors of Tarzana.

Chrysler prefers the term “sport tourer,” though “sport” applies only in roughly the same degree that it applies to, say, bowling. This thing is a dreadnought, a big six-passenger vehicle, only slightly smaller than a Chrysler minivan in every dimension, and quite a bit bigger than quasi-utes such as the Acura MDX and BMW X5.

Only some deft trompe l’oeil -- including blacked-out door pillars and black composite trim at the roof line and on the lower body -- saves the Pacifica from a distinctly bus-like visage. Look side-on at the Pacifica and notice how the body volume dwarfs the 17-inch wheels and tires. I am generally opposed to gaudy aftermarket rims, but the Pacifica’s wheel wells cry out for some big wheels.

And yet, overall, the design works nicely. The Pacifica looks great from most every angle, artful and elegant and well composed. About the only complaint I had was the outward sightlines -- it’s kind of blind in the rear quarters -- and the vehicle’s corners are hard to judge. Chrysler, struggling mightily to reposition itself as a classier brand of cannon fodder against the Japanese, has achieved a look of relaxed formality with its reconfigured egg-crate grill and winged emblem. It’s a face you can live with.

Looks count. Whatever you want to call this segment (premium sport tourer? executive daddymobile?), it is peopled with some pretty cool machines, including the new, origami-themed Cadillac SRX and the Volvo XC90, vehicles with three rows to hold lots of passengers, tall seating, versatile cargo holds and optional all-wheel-drive powertrains.

It strikes me that the whole sport tourer enterprise is less about refining vehicle choices for narrower buyer cliques than it is minimizing the downsides of SUVs and minivans, not just functionally but emotionally. Where minivans are about as hip as gingham tablecloths, the Pacifica actually seems to anticipate the next hip thing -- in Gen. Otis’ time we used to call it “family.” That goes a long way toward explaining the aura of goodwill that surrounded the Pacifica on our trip west.

People -- which is to say, parents -- seemed genuinely interested in the car. More than once at gas stops I was obliged to demonstrate the way the middle-row captain’s chairs folded down (with a flip-over panel between the seats) to form a nearly flat cargo space from tailgate to front-row seat backs.

The rear seats are tolerable for even full-size adults and -- with proper operation of the tilt-and-tumble middle seats -- easy to access. Options such as the heated seats for the middle row, rear-seat DVD video system with wireless headphones and second-row console practically beg for a cross-country tryout.

If you don’t have kids, I’m sure you can lease them.

Three-stage “smart” air bags up front are augmented by a knee-bolster air bag system on the driver’s side. Also included is a tire-pressure monitoring system, as well as something called EARS, for Enhanced Accident Response System, which turns on all the lights and unlocks the doors after an accident. The Pacifica received a five-star crash rating from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration.

It’s actually been a while since I was last in a Chrysler product, and the timbre and spirit of the Pacifica were pleasant surprises. The vehicle feels exceptionally solid and stout, with a gracious heft to the doors and a kind of immanent density. The thing uttered not a squeak or peep the whole trip -- far more than I can say, alas, for the canary.

There is a word for this kind of vibe in the car business: Mercedes. Here, at last, is the welcome fallout from the 1998 takeover of Chrysler, creating DaimlerChrysler.

Plainly, a lot of Stuttgart got shipped over for the Pacifica. Telltale signs include the central instrument cluster, including an electroluminescent rainbow against a black background comprising the speedometer. Situated under the gauge is a navigation display screen, the controls for which operate with Teutonic rigor and logic. The seat controls with pedal adjustment, situated on the doors, are direct from the Mercedes parts bin. And the overall interior design, with its winning nuances of neutral colors and flowing surfaces of faux wood, leather and thick composites, just reeks of Mercedes design.

All of this content comes at a price, of course. Our maxed-out tester retailed for $41,165, including $680 destination charge. That puts it in the range of the more ute-y Volvo XC90 and Acura MDX but comfortably below the image-intensive Cadillac SRX, which can run past $50,000 without breaking a sweat.

Moreover -- and this is where the Pacifica needs improvement -- all this content weighs a lot. Our tester was pushing 4,800 pounds, a tally that pretty much smothers the 3.5-liter V-6 (250 horsepower and 250 pound-feet of torque at 3,950 rpm) channeled through Chrysler’s four-speed Autostick transmission. Zero to 60 mph hovers around the nine-second mark, and it’s a bit of a snarling fuss to get there.

We had to torment the Pacifica a bit to get over the mountains, and there is a creeping sense of vulnerability -- or lowering doom -- if you need to gun it to merge on the highway.

As for driving dynamics, the Pacifica has solid and sure steering reactions, good poise on its suspension (struts up front and five links in back, with anti-roll bars lacing together both ends), a facile and sure-footed AWD system and taut brakes -- all of which barely keeps up the vehicle’s weight. Mercedes’ great trick is to make a vehicle that feels like a bank vault not weigh like a bank vault. Chrysler needs to learn this trick.

Such thoughts seemed churlish, however, when the Pacifica was at its cruising altitude of 80 mph on the American prairie, streaming serenely westward on a ribbon of federally funded concrete that The Times, and one Bert C. Smith, helped along toward its destiny.

Thanks, Bert.

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Times automotive columnist Dan Neil can be reached at dan.neil@latimes.com.