My big, burly urban SUV : Review of Mahindra XUV 500 with 1L+ km

Some stories entertain, some enlighten, some comforts and some simply fades away with the waning night for want of a fresh morning. I hope this does one of it.

BHPian arb recently shared this with other enthusiasts:

A short story of Big burly urban suv, for the urban folks like me, presuming-ly busy in our tiny little cocoons with attention span lesser than the fizz in a bottle of red, presenting my Bear, XUV5OO, written by ArB. Observations by a mix of individuals who became part and continue to be part of its urban escapades. Inspired by concoction in hand and inability to replace the perceived value of my Bear.

Chapter 1: The Beginnings

Chapter 2: Love Lost?

Not to bear down for lack of the Bear, Jazz shined and glowed with all its might running two pair of shoes, Pirellis none the less in less than three years. By the mark of fourth, it was apparent the Jazz was drying up and so marks the end.

Chapter 3: Bear, Bear, Bear come here

With no more trick up my sleeve, I passionately embrace my dear Bear, XUV500 with stick and an appetite of Diesel. Bear, Bear, Bear, come bear us!

Chapter 4: Observations and Escapades

Needs To Be Continued...?

~ArB

I would have probably hibernated for next few months had the short story been made live, thanks to dear moderators that is not to be. So bear me more, along with my Bear.

Chapter 4A: Why not Cheetah? How is this Bear?

It is in such a place that my father, somewhat tall, lanky met his bear. One made by the mother nature, Blackish, Bulky, in search of divinity by what fell off the Madhuka trees. Well he did know Mahua of jungle is more enchanting than those of the world, what he wasn’t was, a bear can run way faster than him. And that day it was my father, the lanky guy and the bear. Since ArB is writing, its implied he lived, fell through some soil channel, slid faster or perhaps the bear chose to let him live for want of ArB in this world, as proclaimed by some gentleman years from now in an itihaas which is not to be. Too much concoction, okay period.

Well, so the story told as lullaby or as a father’s escapades sticks with me years from when it happened. Taking cue, when I did get to have a non-lethal metal version on four wheels, resembling a Fat Brown Bulky bear, Bear it became not Cheetah.

Bear is in the eye of the beholder, i would say

Chapter 4B: We get it, Bear it is. What next?

The Brown Bear I tamed, bulky it already is, takes a couple of minutes to rev past 2K and then dashes straight like the bear. Also lately growls on a similar note. That’s all with the bear I would say. Now, to Bear of the story XUV5OO.

Yes! I paid the fine, one of my contributions to government welfare fund.

Chapter 4B1: Anything but the heart

Has seven seats, which have seen fair usage across the board. If you have Sheldon’s butt, you might actually feel the driver’s seat screams ArB, other than that rest are more or less the same as day hundredth. Shoulder clothing in some form of Beige persists, continues to age well along with the pseudo leather seat covers. There is also some form of leather in the steering, which has neither cracked nor sored and as tight as day one. What remains is black, glossy, patchy, matt all kinds in a mishmash of textures along with the acres of glass. Has a sore throat, though on medication by Arkymys it remains फ़टा बास, with six speakers run by a monolithic artefact which overall is cohesive and pleasing to look at, quite unlike the flat panels of today.

Also, has a lot of buttons no less than a cockpit I presume. While there is room all around, its the amount of storage for nick knacks that makes finding my little ones socks after long run a big pain in a, yet not content so it also has a roof carrier along with an Amazon carrier bag. I take my home along, if you are wondering. That is pretty much what is inside, lets talk about the innards.

the Old and the New

Plethora of buttons, but nonetheless cohesive

Chapter 4B2: Innards, the Heart

Run, ran, numerous times clocking an average twelve hundred kilometers in each of those times, until it snapped, the pulley sheared, belt riped, armature busted. Had ArB and his progeny stuck in one of those heartlands of India, loaded to tee like always pleading with different RSA’s come take me away, while having moshi-moshi moments with laptop over bonnet in my alter corporate self, the only difference being my call earned no pounds. Strike the right pressure, push more than it can, metal, rubber all snaps, what chance does a meagre mortal with flesh and bones stand.

Nevertheless, my progeny had their first encounter with lack of electricity and what it takes to endure summer heat. Quite an epiphany, in the urban cocoon of ours, replete with fail safes they have never experienced any stressed environments. There is no realization of power cuts, seasonal extremes, manual labour, or in general, the privilege we are bestowed with.

Back to the Bear, once sorted, replaced parts make the engine hum as before, with ArB being a bit more considerate in his runs.

Belt across alternator in different shades of misery

Pulley, two way

Once, so far!

Chapter 4B3: Pesky little things

When it comes to the Bear, it has its share of pesky little things. Starting with ramblings, it rambles on and on, some call it rattle I say it’s the Bear rambling in its own space. I have tried peacefully, in rage, in my diplomatic best, no matter what I try, tie, stuff, choke or replace, it will not stop. Thus I made peace with the ramblings, and when it rambles hard, I push harder or let croaky throat take over.

Rattle points – tumble seat joint; seat belt holder; sunroof control panel

Acres of room did I say earlier; it is true if you are in the front or middle. Go to the third row and you will be magically teleported to a closed room much like the boys’ hostel rooms in many of our premier institutes. No openable windows, shady looking glass pane owing to the permanent sun shade fixed by ArB, thankfully comes with its own aircon vents and controller. You are still at mercy of ArB, since the controller controls only volume, the aircon itself is controlled via head unit.

Pain @ third row, the seat and the in/egress space

Pain @ third row, feet space, max and min knee room

Great if you have made it so far, thank your eyes for being working receptive sensors. We humans have limited senses, aided by similarly few sensors ears, eyes, tongue, skin I presume and that’s designed by the folks of higher order. And we the meagre mortals made things with sensors fitted in every nook and corner, and what a pain it is. Bear had its ABS sensor aching for more than a year, that’s four of them playing whodunits. There are more whodunits, the TPMS brothers and their propensity to go bust just after tyre rotations. Then, there are even more of them, last of it being the fuel sensor turning an angry face. Long story short, the sensors are sensory pain for my wallet.

Seemingly ABS plug joint, which kept me on run for an year and a half

To drive is my nirvana in this day and age and I presume for many other team bhpians. Now, imagine you had a wonderful drive, your supposed nirvana, elated, in a state of presumed enlightenment, ready to douse the worries of the day and about to step out in bliss, just then your knee kisses the edge of dashboard and shunts back like a shot arrow hitting your heel in a manner as if the calcaneous would break. What nirvana, I might come back from my pyre and shout out the choicest verbal comforters I know, that is what this pesky little protruding corner does.

Pesky little corner, missed while I was taking images too

Recall the endurance bit from earlier, we humans have it easy there are easy supplements to more modest resilient ways of improving our endurance and when at pain much other ways to sober our aching joints, red, white, sparkling, aged, Swedish, deep tissue and what not. But for my Bear, all that is available is supplements and heckling from dear service centres and some pampering from the 3M’s of the world. While I may enjoy my aged after a deep tissue all Bear gets is more pain, getting worked through the dear service centres is perhaps the biggest chunk of pesky little things. This one single pain point alone drives me to not recommend the manufacturer almost always irrespective of the wonderful products they are churning off late.

Talking ill about service centers and no stats? What malarkey! So here we go -

• Number of months Bear has been with me - 70
• Visit to MASS - 26, averaging 1 visit every 2.6 months. And mind you no visit is ever less than a day, and almost always has taken more than whatever the dear SAs' committed for.
• Cost so far, around 2.2L , averaging 3.2k per month of ownership or approx 8.5k per visit to MASS.

Some love, paid pampering!

Chapter 4C: Bear in the urban concrete jungle

One of the milestones

In her hands, the Bear growls and is a beast true to its nature. Agile, nimble and steady in her erstwhile daily runs of forty plus kilometers never stranding her, always surefooted. Out in the highways, mannerisms are similar irrespective of the master at the wheel. Like suggested earlier, the Bear ran hours together in journeys spanning thousands of kilometers across middle and southern India, never breaking a sweat until very recently. Nevertheless, once sorted its back with a bang finishing a seven hundred km sprint effortlessly.

ArB once had the Bear run more than five thousand kilometer in his quest of eastern shores in a span of ten days, running on arrow straight tarmac in Andhra, TN, to being afloat in a Ferry over Chilka, touching the shores with its own shoes in Digha, to some not so near, blessed by the many iterations and forms of Durga portrayed across the city of joy to the old and charismatic temples in Orissa all blessing the travails of the Bear and its lesser folks.

While the Bear had seen a lot of places, Mahabaleshwar in the west is where it prowled like it was meant to. Having only two powered wheels never caused it to skip a beat. Ran there when it was raining tempers in house, or when it was actually raining in there, with fog to company, and many many lesser mortals, sometimes just for the sake of hill run, the Bear kept finding reasons to be up there, creeping through the smallest of lanes, flying amongst the fog.

Few more lesser mortals had been part to some or many of these escapades and never had a reason to complain. The seniors amongst them loved the airiness, the space and ease of in/egress, kids at times had the entire third bench to them or wherever you tag them were fairly comfortable. No ISOFIX mounts, if you ask. My elder one is on forever quest for jutting out through the sunroof, largely unsuccessful endeavour I must say. Learning his lessons of failure, with a few successes in the seclusions of jungle stays the Bear has had in plenty.

Sunroof does make for a happy kid pic

Parting note from ArB

If you are still reading and wondering who rambles more? the Bear or the one who tamed this Bear, it is probably going to be a tie. So here I bid adieu, letting the story of Big burly urban suv sink in the trenches of internet.

Some stories entertain, some enlighten, some comforts and some simply fades away with the waning night for want of a fresh morning. I hope this does one of it. Nevertheless have you seen the post guidelines? There are around forty line items as suggestive writing points, while not all I did cover some of them amidst the stories of my Bear.

Sincere gratitude for reading through, ignoring my language pitfalls, bad tenses, jumping persons.

~ArB

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