I live alone. So, naturally, I bought a Toyota Hiace Super Grandia Elite.
Yes, it is big. Very big. Bigger than anything a person living alone could reasonably justify as personal transportation. There are moments when I look at it parked outside and wonder whether I bought a van or a small condominium on wheels.
But I love it. And the reason has less to do with practicality than with where the Hiace takes me—not just geographically, but back to a time when traveling meant piling the entire family into one vehicle and going somewhere together.
Our family had a Toyota Hiace in the early 1980s. There were seven of us, and it served us well as the family vehicle. We took it on regular trips to Baguio, Antipolo and Anilao, destinations that seemed much farther away then than they do today.
There were no expressways taking you almost all the way north or south, no navigation apps warning you about traffic ahead, and certainly no smartphones keeping everyone quietly occupied inside the van.
We traveled together because that was simply what families did. The Hiace carried all of us, our bags, whatever food my parents decided we needed to bring, and probably far too many things we could have bought when we got there anyway.
But that van became much more than the vehicle that took us on family outings. When my parents’ restaurant burned down, they temporarily converted the Hiace into a food truck. While the restaurant was being rebuilt, the van also served as a kiosk.
For a time, it was part family vehicle, part temporary business, and part of how my parents kept things moving while rebuilding what they had lost. I was young then, so I probably did not fully appreciate what that meant.
Looking back now, I realize that the Hiace was not simply something we rode in. It became one of those dependable things the family could turn to when circumstances suddenly changed.
Eventually, the restaurant reopened, the Hiace returned to its regular role, and we went back to doing what we did best in it: going somewhere together. Those trips became part of our childhood. Then life happened.
Starting Over
We grew older. My siblings and I went our separate ways. Some of us lived abroad. We raised families of our own, built careers, and spent decades dealing with the responsibilities that come with adulthood. Our children grew up, too, and eventually started living lives of their own.
For many years, the family road trips stopped. And now, somehow, we are back.
After decades spent building separate lives, my siblings and I once again find ourselves living together, this time on a decent-sized farm in Batangas. The children are grown. Some are abroad. They have careers, relationships, and schedules that no longer revolve around ours.
And suddenly, we have time again. Time to explore the countryside. Time to take a drive simply because there is somewhere we haven’t been. Time to have lunch somewhere two hours away without worrying about getting home in time for school the next morning.
In a strange way, we have returned to the way we traveled when we were young. Which brings me back to the Hiace.
My latest acquisition is a 2019 Toyota Hiace Super Grandia Elite, from the first year of the current-generation Hiace. It had fewer than 40,000 kilometers on the odometer when I got it, and despite being several years old, there is surprisingly little about it that makes the van feel far removed from the newer versions of the same model.
That was part of the attraction. But if I am completely honest, this was never purely a rational purchase. I wanted a Hiace again.
Big Van, Big Chair
Driving something this large takes some adjustment, particularly if most of your time is normally spent in passenger cars and SUVs. The Super Grandia Elite is long and wide, and there is no pretending otherwise. You are constantly aware that there is considerably more vehicle behind you than usual.
Parking requires a little more planning. Tight streets demand greater attention. You learn quickly not to treat it like a compact crossover. But once on the move, the Hiace becomes surprisingly easy to manage.
Part of that comes from the driving position. You sit high, with an expansive view through the large windshield and good sightlines around you. That commanding position makes it easier to judge traffic ahead, something I particularly appreciate on provincial roads.
But what I enjoy most are the seats. The front leather seats are wide, supportive, and genuinely comfortable. For someone spending several hours behind the wheel, that matters more to me than another oversized touchscreen or a dozen electronic gimmicks. The driver’s seat feels like somewhere you can settle into rather than perch on. There is plenty of room around you, too.
The Super Grandia Elite may be designed primarily to take care of the people sitting behind the driver, but Toyota did not forget the person actually doing the driving. On longer trips, that makes a considerable difference.
The steering is manageable for something this large, and the automatic transmission takes much of the work out of driving in traffic. Once you become accustomed to the dimensions, the Hiace settles into a relaxed rhythm.
It is not a vehicle that encourages you to hurry. And I rather like that.
Built for the Journey
My own fuel-consumption figures have been quite reasonable considering the size and weight of the vehicle. Around town, I see roughly 8 km/L, while highway trips can bring that up to around 11 km/L.
For a large diesel van capable of carrying an entire family in considerable comfort, I can live with those numbers. More importantly, the Hiace feels happiest when you settle into a long journey.
There is something reassuring about the way it covers distance. You are not constantly looking for an opportunity to overtake or attacking every corner. You simply settle into that wide seat, let the diesel engine do its work, and watch the kilometers disappear.
On our trips around Batangas and farther afield, that character suits us perfectly. We are no longer rushing anywhere. We did enough of that when we were younger.
The Seats I Never Get to Enjoy
Of course, the great irony of owning a Super Grandia Elite is that arguably the best seats in the vehicle are not up front. They are behind me.
The captain’s chairs are the sort of seats that make you understand why people buy these vans to be driven rather than to drive themselves. There is generous space, proper individual seating and the sort of comfort that makes a long provincial trip feel considerably shorter.
My siblings seem to enjoy them. I wouldn’t really know. Because I am the designated driver. Every time.
I bought the comfortable van. I maintain the comfortable van. I fill the comfortable van with diesel. Then everybody else sits in the really comfortable seats. There is something fundamentally wrong with this arrangement. One of these days, I keep telling them, somebody else is going to drive, and I am going to sit in the back. It hasn’t happened yet.
Perhaps the real luxury feature Toyota should have included was a sibling willing to take the wheel.
Family Transport, Again
Still, watching my siblings settle into the back somehow feels familiar. Not identical, of course.
We are not the children we were in the late 1970s. Our parents are no longer deciding where we are going. Nobody has homework waiting at home. Nobody needs to be back for school on Monday.
The conversations are different now. We talk about our children, the farm, work, where we have lived and what we have done during all those years when our lives took us in different directions. But put us together inside a Hiace heading somewhere for the day, and occasionally I can still recognize the family we used to be. That is the part I never expected when I bought the van.
Cars are normally judged by measurable things: horsepower, torque, fuel consumption, acceleration, cargo room and resale value. All of those things matter. But sometimes a vehicle earns its value in ways that are much harder to put on a specification sheet. Our old Hiace gave seven members of one family a way to see places together. It also became a food truck and temporary kiosk when my parents suddenly needed it to become something else.
More than four decades later, another Hiace is once again carrying us around together.
Why a Toyota?
There is probably another reason I ended up back in a Toyota. Dependability.
I have spent most of my adult life around cars. I have driven vehicles that are faster, more luxurious, more technologically sophisticated, and infinitely more exotic than a Hiace. But there is something reassuring about a Toyota.
Perhaps it is familiarity. Perhaps it is the expectation that you can press the starter button and it will simply get on with the job. Maybe that is why Toyota has always felt a little like family to me. Not because of any advertising slogan, but because it has simply been there.
Our old Hiace was there during those childhood trips to Baguio, Antipolo, and Anilao. More importantly, it was there when my parents needed it for something far more serious.
When the restaurant burned down, the Hiace adapted. It became a food truck. It became a kiosk. It helped the family continue moving forward while the restaurant was rebuilt. Dependable does not always mean simply starting every morning or reaching a destination without breaking down. Sometimes it means being useful when the family needs you most.
Comfortable. Dependable. Familiar. Family, when you think about it, can be much the same. You spend years apart. You go in different directions. You build different lives. Then somehow you find yourselves together again, climbing into one vehicle and asking the same question you asked decades ago: Where are we going this weekend?
Full Circle
There are certainly more sensible vehicles for somebody who lives alone. A sedan would be easier to park. A crossover would be easier to maneuver. A pickup would probably make more practical sense on the farm.
Instead, I have a very large 2019 Toyota Hiace Super Grandia Elite sitting outside. And I wouldn’t trade it for something smaller. Because it isn’t really just my car. It has become our getaway vehicle.
When my siblings and I decide to explore another part of the countryside, this is what we take. We climb aboard, throw our things in the back, and head out with no school schedules, children’s activities, or family obligations dictating when we have to return.
We could not do this while we were busy raising our respective families. Now our children are grown and living their own lives. And we have somehow been given the chance to be brothers and sisters again.
The first Hiace carried us through childhood, through family holidays and even through one of the more difficult chapters of my parents’ lives. This one is carrying us through another chapter entirely.
The destinations may be different. The roads are certainly better. We are older, hopefully wiser and probably a little slower getting in and out. But the idea remains wonderfully familiar. Load up the Hiace. Pick a road. Go somewhere together.
There is only one problem. I still don’t get the captain’s chair.
Maybe next trip.
