The GMC Acadia Is a Few Foibles Away From Excellence: Review

Here’s the thing. There’s a lot to like about the newest GMC Acadia—literally. The current generation is way bigger than the old one, which makes it a better choice for larger families. It has a comfortable interior with nice tech. It looks good. And the price isn’t bad for all the gear you get. But there are a few frustrating idiosyncrasies to contend with, not the least of which is ride quality.

That’s why I’m struggling with this sizable mid-sizer. There’s so much potential here, but you’ll need to love its foibles to make it work. Any one of these on their own would be fine, but all combined? That could be a big ask for buyers, especially if you spend a fair amount of time on rough roads. 

Before diving into that criticism, though, let’s review what’s new for the Acadia. It’s nearly a foot longer than the previous-gen model and a few inches taller, which translates to more room inside. And you definitely notice the difference. There is 23.0 cubic feet worth of cargo space behind the third row, an increase of 80 percent according to GMC. Bountiful shopping trips with a full load of passengers are not a problem. 

Those sitting in the second row have 37 percent more space to stretch out. Third-row legroom is 32.1 inches—still not ideal but an improvement over the 29.7 inches of leg space in the previous model. Shoulder and hip room (57.9 and 48.62 inches) are outstanding, making it spacious enough to be adult-friendly for shorter drives, something not easily achieved in this segment. 

It’s also the SUV of choice for those who (like me) prefer portrait screens over landscape. The Acadia’s dash is completely different from the one Chevrolet uses in the mechanically similar Traverse, starting with the 15.0-inch center display. It’s supplemented with an 11.0-inch driver display that’s configurable with multiple layouts. This is all standard issue on the Acadia, but do yourself a favor and select the optional heads-up display. It’s bundled into the $900 luxury package, and it’s absolutely worth the price.

Pros: Room To Spare, Comfortable, Well-Equipped, Easy To Drive

The dash is busy but not cluttered. A bank of large toggles below the center screen provides quick, tactile access to climate settings. On your left are buttons for vehicle drive modes, auto start/stop, and a scroll wheel to dim interior lights. Two stalks extend from the steering column to control gear selection, turn signals, and windshield wipers. But those stalks aren’t the same ones you used to know. In case you’re wondering, this is where the foibles begin.

The left stalk toggles up and down for turn signals, no big deal. It also contains toggles for the front and rear wipers, but they are embedded into the stalk and operated from the back. It’s a little awkward to use at first, but the big problem is the up/down motion needed to use the wipers. You know what else goes up and down on that lever? Ask me how many times I inadvertently engaged the turn signal during my week with the Acadia. A simple rotary control on the end of the stalk would be so much better here.

As for the column-mounted digital shifter, it’s super easy to use. Pull it back and down for drive, back and up for reverse, and push the button on the end for park. But I have one minor gripe: It’s counter-intuitive to using the old manual PRNDL lever, where park is up. And this isn’t purely a generational thing; Chevrolet and GMC still use PRNDL shifters on some pickup trucks.

Photo by: Christopher Smith / Motor1

The headlight control is now purely digital. There’s a small light icon on the lower left of the touchscreen to bring up a menu for headlights, parking lights, or automatic operation. It’s at least a quick-access feature on the main screen, but I noticed the control for driving lamps wasn’t there. After considerable searching, I found them… under Controls & Safety. In what universe does that make sense?

Frankly, the steering wheel stalks and the digital light controls don’t feel the least bit innovative. It has vibes of a designer wanting to be different just for the sake of being different. As a result, you run the risk of accidentally engaging the turn signal while using the wipers. You might engage reverse when you really wanted park. And you’ll have to take your eyes off the road if you need headlights in situations like fog where auto lights don’t always kick in. 

With some time, I could probably learn to live with those quirks. Unfortunately, the GMC Acadia’s ride is a different story. It’s worth noting my Acadia was riding on 22–inch wheels despite being an “entry-level” Elevation trim. I’m sure that accounts for some of jolts and thumps I felt on rougher sections of highway. It’s not a violent or unruly experience; the suspension largely absorbs bumps without issue. But the impacts resonate through the cabin like a big subwoofer.

Photo by: Christopher Smith / Motor1

Cons: Frustrating Placement For Common Controls, Harsh Ride

The noise was an unpleasant surprise, and it wasn’t only from resonating thuds. Even at a modest 55 miles per hour, the combination of highway hum and wind noise was an ever-present soundtrack that couldn’t be ignored. It wasn’t so intrusive as to derail a pleasant conversation, but I knew exactly when I reached newer stretches of concrete on I-75 purely by sound. Big wheels and low-profile tires are notorious for such behavior, so an Acadia on 20s may offer a quieter, smoother experience.

The rest of the revamped GMC is spot-on. I had no issues with the turbo-four; it has all the power you need with a little more in reserve, and the sound is unobtrusive. I was able to exceed the EPA’s official fuel-mileage rating on the highway, consistently running close to 26 miles per gallon. My overall average was just 17.4 though, hindered by the unfortunate combination of a loaded car and my heavy right foot. Highway running with GM’s SuperCruise is where this SUV truly shines, and the hands-off system performed admirably. It’s eerily intuitive, even changing lanes to make space for merging traffic just as I was reaching for the steering wheel.

Photo by: Christopher Smith / Motor1

Photo by: Christopher Smith / Motor1

So yeah, I’m conflicted. There are gobs of mid-size SUVs to choose from, with many like the Kia Telluride offering similar capabilities well below the Acadia’s as-tested price of $54,690. However, only a precious few offer hands-free driver tech. A similarly optioned Ford Explorer ST-Line with BlueCruise is a couple grand cheaper, but it’s not nearly as roomy or comfortable. The Chevrolet Traverse is certainly a valid choice; it has the same space, powertrain, and SuperCruise for a couple thousand less, but doesn’t look as nice to my eyes. The Jeep Grand Cherokee L has a hands-free option, but you need to spend $67,000 to get it.

I love the Acadia’s style, and I can live with the interior foibles. But until GMC reins in the ride quality, I’ll forget about hands-free driving and opt for a kinder, gentler, lesser-optioned people mover that I can steer with my knee. I’m just kidding. Don’t drive with your knees.

Competitors:

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Christopher Smith / Motor1