Suite Rides

Ezra Dyer

06/01/2007

"I’ve been preaching to the wrong choir," says Avi Meyers, CEO of Unicat Americas, as we head out of Las Vegas en route to Valley of Fire. Meyers is behind the wheel of his Unicat Amerigo International, a towering 4x4 expedition vehicle that resembles an RV after an Incredible Hulk moment, morphing from a road-bound retiree cruiser into an imposing quasi-military off-roader. The choir in question is the traditional recreational vehicle audience, who can’t seem to get their minds around the idea that you might want to overnight in a place far beyond paved roads, let alone Domino’s delivery range.

Meyers fell into his role as Unicat executive/evangelist by accident. He bought a truck for personal use, and, as there was no U.S. arm for the German company, took it upon himself to start one. "I decided that there must be other maniacs out there who’d want something like this," he says.

The cab and chassis are not askew; the Unicat’s living quarters are mounted on a pivot to allow chassis articulation off-road. (Click image to enlarge)

Meyers thinks that the nautical crowd is more that type of maniac—people with the requisite money and a healthy wanderlust. "People at RV shows have said, ‘What can I possibly do with that?’" he says. "They can’t even conceive of global travel. That’s why I’m going to start taking it to boat shows. Boat people have the right mentality for a vehicle like this, because they want adventure, but can’t get inland."

Unicat vehicles are designed to take you inland, overland, wherever, with or without the luxury of roads. Built atop a heavy-duty four-wheel-drive International 7400 commercial chassis, the Amerigo International sports a 5.7-liter 6-cylinder diesel that sends 310 hp and 950 ft lbs of torque down to 4-foot-tall off-road tires. Behind the cab are the living quarters, which resemble an elegant yacht’s cabin, right down to the teak flooring. That isn’t the usual payload for an International 7400. When I remark that the front end of the chassis looks familiar, Meyers replies, "You see it used a lot on cement mixers."

The desert landscape presented its share of obstacles, and the Unicat left with a battle scar (bottom), demonstrating the purpose of bumpers. (Click images to enlarge)

A cement mixer chassis for an RV? As we roll west into the desert at 70 mph, our seats at eye-level with those in passing semis, Meyers discusses a recent trip he made with this truck. He shipped it to Africa and set out to drive across the Sahara desert. I ask him an obvious question that must cross the mind of most guys looking to buy a $600,000 adventure toy: What did the wife think of that idea, and really of the Unicat in general? "She was skeptical at first," he says. "But one night in the Sahara, we met a Touareg tribe, and ended up having dinner with them, out there in the desert, under the stars. At that point, she looked at me and said, ‘OK, I understand the appeal of this now.’"

A few miles down the two-lane road that winds into Valley of Fire, the pavement takes a hard left turn. We keep going straight, onto a trail through the scrub brush. On the choppy washboard road, the front axle begins drumming a staccato backbeat on the bump stops. Meyers explains that before you air the tires down, the front springs don’t have enough travel for this particular situation—high-speed washboard. He’s installing uprated springs and new progressive bump-stops to address the problem, both for himself and future customers.

We pull over to put the Unicat in off-road mode—airing down the tires and folding the rear bumper under the body, to improve the departure angle (in its lowered position, the bumper allows the truck to meet on-road bumper height regulations). Then we’re off to see what this thing can do.
We begin by playing a game I call, "Can we drive over that?" I point at a 3-foot high sandy berm, and Meyers steers the Unicat up and over it. No problem. I point to a nearby hill, and soon the view through the windshield is filled with sky. "This can climb a 60-degree slope," Meyers says. "What’s scary about a 60-degree slope is the trip back down. You’re hanging against your seatbelt."

Basic capabilities demonstrated, I take the wheel. This is easily the biggest truck I’ve ever driven. It weighs 24,000 pounds and can carry an additional 9,000 pounds before the chassis reaches its weight limit—it’s intentionally overbuilt. The trick of driving the Unicat off-road is learning how to use its momentum. When 950 ft lbs of torque sets 24,000 pounds in motion, you need to be smooth on the brakes to ensure you don’t get a bigger head of steam than you bargained for. I try some rock-crawling, and I’m anything but smooth—I tend to panic as soon as the truck exceeds roughly one mile per hour, at which point I slam on the brakes and the whole thing obediently halts with a great hiss from the air brakes. It takes practice, but Meyers, standing guard as spotter, helps me navigate a rock-strewn gulch better suited to a lifted Jeep Wrangler. And that’s when we get a little cocky.

Even in as outrageous a setting as the Vegas Strip, the Unicat looks conspicuous. (Click image to enlarge)

One of my buddies in the military tells me that when Army guys get a Hummer stuck, it tends to be in ridiculous situations that require a bulldozer or other heavy equipment to resolve. They call the Hummer "God’s RV," and when you’re driving God’s RV, who’s to tell you that you can’t drive right through a 4-foot-deep mud pit? I’ve quickly developed a similar confidence in the Unicat, and keep an eye out for terrain that might truly give it a workout. Soon enough, I find it: a small mountain of such steepness that when I get out and climb the slope, I need to step from rock to rock to find footholds or I’ll slide back down.

The problem isn’t the angle—perhaps 45 degrees—but the surface, loose sand that offers little traction. After spinning to a stop in low-range first gear, Meyers decides to try another trick: reversing up the slope, since reverse gear is an even lower ratio. He builds some momentum near the bottom and is fairly charging up the hill in reverse when a jarring smash emanates from the rear end. Despite using the rear-view camera and my shoddy spotting, Meyers backed the truck into a mammoth boulder jutting from the hillside. The tubular rear bumper now sports a huge dent, but it did its job, protecting the equipment-filled cabinets mounted behind it.

Playing the "Let’s drive over that" game. (Click image to enlarge)

I feel awful for having goaded Meyers into this stunt. I am the bad-influence kid, just like my friends’ moms always said. "Shit happens," shrugs Meyers. This comes with the territory, I suppose. If you never put your Unicat in harm’s way, then you may as well buy a regular RV, park it on the infield at the next NASCAR race and call it a day. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.

Back on the pavement, we reinflate the tires using the onboard air compressor. That done, Meyers gives me a tour of the living quarters. He begins by lowering the hydraulic foldout stairs, which you retract into the body once aboard, restricting access to any local whom you might not wish to meet in the dead of night.

Inside, there are the usual necessities you’d expect to see in an RV—bathroom with full shower, queen-sized bed, fridge, oven, microwave and satellite TV. The difference is in the quality of the components. Everything is built to marine standards. For example, the silverware drawer locks shut, and nothing is amiss, even after our off-roading session.
There’s a reason this thing costs north of a half-million dollars. "The components are absolutely the finest that can be found," Meyers says. "We challenge engineers to look at this and find anything that can be built better, or with better components."

The cabin gives off a businesslike vibe, but there are some understated luxe touches, such as the radiant floor heating system, and the hot and cold exterior shower, nestled under the rear overhang. Outside, I point to the brackets flanking each side of the body and ask what they’re for, and Meyers replies, "Speaker hookups. You’ve gotta’ have tunes."

The Unicat is certainly impressive from a technical perspective, but the truck itself is merely the piece of hardware that opens the door to a unique brand of gonzo tourist lifestyle. On one end of the traveler spectrum, you have the package-deal person, who wants someone else to prearrange their entire vacation—no surprises. And, on the far opposite end, you have the Unicat buyer, a person who actively seeks surprises, good and bad, by venturing outside the international tourism infrastructure. Meyers had his Sahara dinner with the Touareg, and he also once had bandits in Morocco attempt to break in through the rooftop air vents. Good or bad, the Unicat provides an exposure to culture that you simply can’t get without breaking the geographic shackles of hotel lodging.

It’s true that many formerly remote reaches of the planet are now commercialized and tourist-centric. The good news is that plenty of places still aren’t, and if you want to get there while maintaining a high standard of living, there’s only one way to travel.

Unicat Americas
650.793.9009
www.unicatamericas.com