The first Avalon was significant for being the first Japanese car to ever break into the EPA "large" category. Packing 120.9 cubic feet of total interior space into its diminutive 190-inch body (shorter than today's Altima) and weighing under 3,300 pounds, it was also a model of packaging efficiency. Compared to the original, the Avalon has grown 4 inches in wheelbase, 7 in length, 3 in width, and 300 pounds in girth. In return, the interior grew 0.4 cubic feet. That's not exactly getting what you give, but the back seat is still a place where you can cross your legs. The seat is a tiny bit low, but since you can almost extend your legs all the way under the front seats, who cares? Better yet, the flat floor means the center passenger won't be leeching off of side passengers' foot space for a change, and the back rest can be reclined within 10 degrees to everyone's sweet spot. For five-passenger friendliness, nothing beats a great, big, front-wheel-drive sedan, eh? The back seat doesn't fold but there's a center porthole for long items.
The captain's chairs are just as superb, but you already knew that. What you might not know is 2005's discontinuation of the front bench seat option - a proud cruiser tradition, but never the best idea. Front-center passengers always have to rely on an armrest that folds up to do a bad impersonation of a seat (often lacking a head restraint), and the driver and first passenger always have to live with a contour-less front bench instead of better-shaped bucket seats. Five happy passengers beats six grumbling claustrophobics, so no loss, right?
Everything in the Avalon's interior that has a function attached to it feels good to the touch, but this cabin offers more to feel than to look at. The dashboard is a graceless and asymmetrical slab of discordant shapes. I see little point in the stereo's lid (would any thief assume Avalons lack one?), and when it's open, it sticks out like a baseball cap over an awkwardly recessed faceplate. The automatic climate controls are inconveniently divided on both sides of the stereo and the displays for both systems got banished to the TV screen up top that also houses the navigation system (on cars equipped with it). The metallic and snakeskin trimmings are pure cheese (XLS and Limited models have much classier wood accents) and the leather steering wheel comes a little too close to vinyl. Avalons used to get accused of inching too close to Lexus territory; so much for that problem.
Credit the disappointment to my high expectations of Toyota; the interior is still a decent place. The gauges are crisp and clear, the pedal-activated parking brake means lots of console storage space, the steering wheel telescopes, and all four doors have assist grips above them. And the standard stereo sounds nearly as good as the one Toyota puts in Scions, which is to say great. But among king-sized sedans, the Avalon's trunk is pretty puny - only two-thirds as big as a Ford Five Hundred's - meaning some of your five passengers might have to leave their stuff behind.
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