By Christopher A. Sawyer
The Virtual Driver

(July 28, 2015) I hadn’t driven a Nissan Rogue since our own Al Vinikour and I were paired up for a Nissan drive event in mid-2007. The most memorable thing about that day was the fact that we both liked the base model more than the higher trim line versions.

It was an honest vehicle, and — because it didn’t have a sunroof — we had more than enough headroom. Unfortunately, compared to the competition it was neither a stand out nor offensive; an accountant to mustard’s biker persona.

The latest Rogue is built off Renault-Nissan’s largest Compact Module Family platform, the CMF C/D. It is only marginally longer in the wheelbase, and overall length, and close to two inches taller and wider than the vehicle it replaces. Yet somewhat surprisingly, considering the slight difference in size, the latest Rogue — which picks up a third row of seats — feels like a midsize.

Some of that is due to Nissan’s new styling language which, when combined with a high seating position and decent sightlines, makes you feel like you are piloting a larger vehicle. (Nissan’s Around View Monitor that synthesizes the view from front, side and rear cameras to create a composite “overhead” view of the vehicle and its surroundings is a blessing.)

The swales and ridges across the hood add bulk but not fat to the forward view, and act on the subconscious mind to increase the feeling of safety; you feel swathed in bodywork that will protect you in a crash. Similarly, the two-tone instrument panel is filled with voluptuous curves that roll down from the windshield and reach toward driver and passenger. This structure converges on a substantial center console area that swells forward of the front seats, leaving the suggestion of a cocoon to envelope and protect.

The second row is roomy, but the optional sunroof (part of the $1,990 SL Premium Package) cuts into headroom. (Some things never change.) Luckily, Nissan has fitted the second-generation Rogue with reclining seatbacks in the second row which give passengers the ability to drop below the headroom-robbing addition. Leg room is generous, and the preposterously thin and limber can slide the seats and fold their backrests forward to scamper into the — to use a phrase Al coined — Lt. Dan-sized third row. On most occasions, this bench will be folded flat, and the cargo floor panel located in one of two tracks to provide either a flat load floor or extra cargo area height.

Two things, however, give you a hint of what the Rogue will be like before it turns a wheel. The first is the bank of switches located on the lower left corner of the instrument panel. In addition to a switch that remotely opens the power hatch lie an Eco button, Sport button, a traction control disable switch, a lockout for the power rear hatch, a hill descent control switch and more. They are located well out of sight, are arrayed haphazardly, and are best used when the vehicle isn’t moving. The other is column holding the handsome leather-covered steering wheel.

At first you don’t see anything out of place, but eventually you notice that the steering column crosses the car at an angle, placing the steering off center. My 1980 Ford Fiesta was like that, and Ford compensated by setting the steering wheel at an angle so it sat square when the wheels were pointed straight ahead. When turning, however, this design feature exacerbated the offset, though eventually I did get used to it. The same is true of the Rogue though, once you notice the offset, you can’t stop seeing it. It sticks in your mind and makes you wonder how, with the Rogue being one of the first vehicles built off the new CMF C/D platform, such a thing happened.

On a more positive note, the Rogue is once again powered by a 170 hp/175 lb.-ft. 2.5-liter inline four mated to a CVT transmission. What’s different is the way these parts work together. In the past, the CVT would switch to a higher ratio as quickly as possible to get the best gas mileage. As a result, the engine was running at such low rams that it sounded like a dying water buffalo the minute you attempted to accelerate.

Also, the transmission would run the engine up the rpm scale under acceleration then roll out quickly as the vehicle gained speed. The lack of distinct steps and the unnatural (to those raised with conventional automatics) response made many customers wonder just how long the transmission would last. With greater attention to the interface between engine and transmission, Nissan engineers have all but eliminated the water buffalo moan, and made the acceleration feel — and sound — more natural. Plus, they did so without compromising fuel economy. The all-wheel drive Rogue SL is EPA rated at 25 city/32 highway/28 combined, and comes close to achieving these numbers in the real world.

On the road the ride is smooth and the handling capable, and it manages simulated evasive maneuvers capably. Unfortunately, you never get the feeling that there’s a soul inhabiting this vehicle; one that might reward drivers for whom travel is more than a trip from “A” to “B.”

After a while, however, you don’t care. The Rogue is content to roll down the road with traffic, soaking up irregularities, and provide the creature comforts buyers have come to expect. It does that very well. Unfortunately, this handsome, competent vehicle is the automotive equivalent of mayonnaise. It adds a touch a flavor, a bit of texture, and complements many things without calling attention to itself.

It needs a bit of spice, a hint of mustard to help it stand out from the crowd and make its swashbuckling a bit less ironic.

The Virtual Driver