Ah, the Toyota 4Runner—once the humble hero of the off-road world, a rugged beast that didn't need fancy badges or spa-like interiors to conquer trails. For decades, it embodied modest pricing: back in the early 2010s, you could snag a base model for around $30,000, a steal for something built like a tank and lasting longer than most marriages. Even in 2019, a TRD Pro hovered at $44,000, offering reliability without requiring a second mortgage. It was the everyman's SUV, the one that said, "I'm practical, not pretentious."
Fast-forward to 2025, and Toyota drops the i-FORCE MAX hybrid version, with top trims like the Trailhunter or Platinum pushing perilously close to $68,000—or even beyond with options. In what dystopian parallel universe does this make sense? A world where gas prices hit $20 a gallon and squirrels power the grid? Or perhaps one where "hybrid" means slapping a battery on a dinosaur and charging Porsche Cayenne money for it?
Let's roast this absurdity. The 4Runner's charm was its affordability—think of it as the reliable uncle who shows up with a toolbox, not the flashy cousin in a tux. Now, Toyota's gone full midlife crisis, tarting it up with turbocharged hybrids and luxury features, jacking the price into Lexus territory. For $68k, you could buy a used Land Cruiser (ironically, now cheaper in base form at $56,450) or two base Tacomas and still have change for therapy. Sure, the hybrid promises 23/24 mpg and 326 horsepower, but is that worth doubling the historical entry price? In the old days, 4Runners were for adventurers on a budget; now, they're for trust-fund trailblazers who sip kale smoothies while "roughing it."
Toyota, we love your indestructibility, but this price hike? It's like putting caviar on a PB&J—unnecessary and hilariously out of touch. Stick to your roots, or risk alienating the loyalists who made you king of the dirt.
Discuss and tell us what it SHOULD cost.