When I were a lad, Prairie meant one of two things. One was the frankly awful Little House On The Prairie TV show, which quite literally made we want to go outside and do something less boring instead. And the other was the Nissan Prairie, a car which – to my young eyes at least – deserved even less attention than the American Western.
Fast forward 30 years and it’s not hard to appreciate the first generation – or M10 – Nissan Prairie. Seriously, this thing deserves its place in the PetrolBlog hall of fame. Bear with me on this one, OK?
It was inspired by the 1978 , a Turin Motor Show concept designed by Giorgetto Giugiaro. So this makes it cool, right?
In fact, with the Prairie launching in Japan in 1982, Nissan can justifiably claim to have successfully launched the first modern interpretation of the MPV, easily beating the to the chase. Sure, history will show that Renault was the first company to bring mass appeal to the people carrier party, but the Prairie started the journey.
And don’t let Ford convince you into thinking that the B-Max pioneered the pillar-less opening and sliding rear door arrangement. The Nissan Prairie got there first, too.
At the time, Motor Week was clearly very impressed with the sliding doors, leading its reviewer to say the Nissan Prairie has got “van-sized sliding doors…on both sides!”.
It’s the “both sides” part that amuses me. Like anyone would make the mistake of only putting a rear door on one side of the car. Oh wait, the MINI Clubman. Right, well moving on.
Motor Week also referenced the Nissan Prairie’s “mind of its own handling”, which doesn’t exactly inspire you with great confidence. But then, you only need to look at the proportions of the Prairie to guess that it’s not going to handle like an MG6. Because .
But let’s look at the plus sides. The absence of a B-pillar and those sliding rear doors provide terrific ease of entry. You could hold dog agility courses using the Nissan Prairie, watching as Buster chases a ball through one side of the cabin and then out the other. Just make sure you slide open the door on the other side, because remember, the Nissan Prairie has van-sized sliding doors…on both sides.
Let’s also remember that the British public hadn’t seen anything quite like the Nissan Prairie, or indeed the, before. Sure, van conversions were nothing new, but purpose-built people carriers were a whole new kettle of sushi. In the Nissan Prairie, you could work, rest and play, the latter of which took on a whole new meaning, thanks to the rear seats which would fold down to make a double bed.
It was reasonably cheap, too, with a 1983 1.5GL setting you back just £5,799. To put that into context, a Nissan Sunny 1.5GL estate – upon which the Prairie is based – would cost £5,519. An admittedly larger came in at £7,981.
Look, nobody is pretending you would look good arriving at the Ambassador’s Reception in a Nissan Prairie, not even with a boot load of Ferrero Rocher. And with a subsequent 30 years worth of safety technology behind us, you’d probably think twice about taking your family on holiday in one. But let me remind you about another chapter in the history of the Nissan Prairie.
Back in 1985, Rod Brotherwood – founder of Brotherwood Automobility – converted a Nissan Prairie for a friend and neighbour who had just been paralysed as a result of a motorcycle accident. A brand new Prairie was stripped back and re-built for wheelchair use, essentially providing the blueprint for today’s wheelchair-accessible vehicles.
You see, there’s far more to the Nissan Prairie than meets the eye. It’s at this point PetrolBlog normally tells you that you’ve got a limited chance of finding one and the car is facing extinction in the UK. But not so the Nissan Prairie. Although admittedly many of the cars left will be the far less interesting second generation models, for a car with an horrendous reputation for rust.
See exhibit A:
Which brings me on to the next point. There’s . Yes, you heard that right, it’s a Nissan Prairie in beige-brown. Swathes and swathes of beige-brown on the outside and a veritable cacophony of beige-brown on the inside.
Now you’re seriously tempted, aren’t you? And best of all, at the time of writing, the price is a mere £250. It’s even got an MOT, a wheelchair ramp and a stainless steel exhaust. Oh, and it’s beige-brown.
Yep, beige-brown.
Sadly, it doesn’t have the wing-mounted mirrors found on the early Japanese-market cars, but it is beige-brown, so that makes up for it. Beige-brown makes up for everything. You can view the .
I’ll leave you with this TV ad from Japan. If you happen to know what on earth the ad is saying, please let me know. So far, all I’ve managed to work out is that the ridiculously happy family are off to a restaurant. A beige-brown restaurant, obviously.
With grateful thanks to badgers4sale for permission to use the pics.
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