Stuff I Like: 2007 Nissan Sentra 2.0S

I have distinct memories of my first car, a 1986 Chrysler LeBaron. Purchased with the help of my folks in November of 2001, she was forest green in color – the deep, glittering sort of green you might hope to see in the eyes of a woman who’s eager to spend some time with you. Sadly, LeBaron DAR-000, which in an act of criminal negligence I left unchristened, had troubles from the outset. Her primary logic board failed within my first week of ownership. Her engine shuddered for unfathomable reasons. One of her taillights wasn’t quite as bright as the other.

But at 16 years old, none of these things mattered to me. I loved LeBaron with the sort of passion that only the young are able to muster. For the first time, I felt myself the master of my own destiny. In the saddle of this fine steed, the world was a buffet of experience just waiting for me to grab a plate. With the help of my more automotively-gifted friends, I got her running on all cylinders and enjoyed a genuinely speedy little ride.

But like so many of the gifts of youth, LeBaron was to be a transient presence in my life. Chrysler engineers designed her to be a front-wheel drive vehicle. The front of the car also happens to be where the engine lives. Wildly insecure in its housings, LeBaron decided to fling its one-ton engine downward, in the direction of my perilously-located drive axles. These mechanisms yielded without a fight, shredding themselves like discarded cigars in a garbage disposal. After a few episodes of this very thorough seppuku, not to mention a few hundred dollars in repair bills, I was faced with a miserable truth:

It was time to let her go.

In the cars since, I never gave my heart away. I knew them to be fickle beasts capable of dashing my fragile affections without a moment’s flicker of concern. More than that, none of them had the charm, the character, the absurdly fun engine that made LeBaron so easy to fall for. These vehicles were tools to be used – absolutely undeserving of my love or concern. My heart was, to these cars, a blackened, impermeable wad of indifference. And it showed: their interiors were cluttered, they were washed once or twice a year and their maintenance often suffered even worse neglect.

Years passed and the scars of that first loss lingered and faded. I graduated from college, started my career and continued life. The 1992 Buick Riviera Ghetto Special that had seen me through my final year of college was showing signs of imminent collapse after a potentially-fatal brake failure. Riviera DAR-004 was but the latest in a line of cars for which I gave not a damn.

It would be time to replace her, and I was satisfied that I would do so with an inexpensive vehicle that would be as exciting to own as a can-opener.

Which brings the reader, if he or she has indulged me this long, to October of 2006. Hunting for deals on a 2006 Sentra, which was being shoved off dealer lots with compensations including but not limited to beer and swimsuit models, I found myself visiting a Nissan dealership. A helpful fellow named Derek was happy enough to lead me in the direction of his dinky assortment of 2006 Sentras. I dutifully followed, passing a collection of glittering new cars.

And then I saw it. It was as though time, for once, slowed itself through the inexorable sluices that channel us past the details of bliss and struggle that so pepper our lives. I lived for hours in that moment as the portions of my soul that were so darkened by the traumas of past died and were reborn to a world of light and magic that defies conventional explanation.

It was a Sentra.

But not the unforgivably bland shit-kettle Sentra that had been marring the clean taste of highway driving for so many years.

This was a radically reconceived Sentra, whose lines and stylings were staggeringly reminiscent of her big sister, Maxima. Maxima was the sort of car I had leered at in 2006, in the way that men will leer at women whose charms place them in a world not generally inhabited by mortals.

Yet, here was everything I had admired in Maxima, scaled down to the world (and price) of compact sedans. Sentra was no longer entry-level in 07 and the up-market positioning showed.

Significant processor time was expended considering all of these facts, but I didn’t break stride as the moment ended and I returned to reality. In contrast to the revival of my soul, I found my verbal reaction pretty dry:

“Wow.”

“Yeah, those are the 2007’s,” Derek shared, very helpfully. Everything Derek did was helpful.

“They really sexed them up for 07,” I offered. Yeah, that was really all I had.

We continued to the 2006’s. But it was a pointless endeavor. Test-driving the 2006 model of Sentra only proved two things: it was a hideous car and there was nowhere near enough room for my 6’3” frame.

So much for picking up a cheap 2006 Sentra. But, I reasoned, so long as I was already on the lot, why not try out the 07? No harm in that.

Right? Surely.

Five hours later, I was owner of a black 2007 Nissan Sentra 2.0S. A new love affair was blooming and some part of me that had been cold and dead for as much as five years was now alive with song and joy.

The Look

First, I must re-iterate: this is not the Sentra of the past. She’s longer and more modern. The headlights enjoy a distinctive, wedge-cut shape. 45-degree angles are splashed all over the place in a much-needed geometric rebellion against the curvy, aerodynamic banality that threatened to consume every class of car in recent memory. Attention to fine details pervades the design of this vehicle, from the rear-windshield placement of the antenna to the bat wing-shaped mirrors.

This is a car that doesn’t look like an intern designed it in hours snatched between naps.

The Interior

The interface is perfection.

The interior of the Sentra 2.0S feels as though it belongs to a luxury car. The dash is expansive, inviting the eyes to drink as much as they can of the oncoming scenery. The instrument panel is neat, well-organized and attractively lit in amber.

A massive center console is dedicated to the task of managing music, trip data and climate control. Delightfully chunky buttons adorn the stereo, making its operation very comfortable. Gas mileage, trip duration, average speed and the distance the operator can drive before the tank empties are all data points that are available from the console’s large, very readable display screen. My favorite amenity, though, certainly must be the factory-standard 3.5mm audio input jack right on the front of the console – for my iPod, naturally. Rounding out the cool features of the interior are the steering wheel-mounted stereo controls, which let you adjust volume and radio presets, and the capacious glove box which Nissan boasts can comfortably accommodate a laptop computer.

Seating is comfy, which is crucial for a man of my height. Nissan reports that the 2007 model has had its cabin extended about 13 inches. This is a detail my legs can certainly confirm.

The Ride

If you want a dissertation on the technical breakdown of Sentra’s engine performance, I’ll need to direct you elsewhere. What I can tell you is that while Sentra isn’t a sports car, her performance is pretty damn good for my needs. Her handling is quick and nimble and she offers a smooth ride in both local and highway settings. The trip computer reports an average of 30 MPG for my general use, which is certainly an improvement over the estimated 15 MPG I was scoring in the Buick.

The Bottom Line

I love this car. I didn’t know I could love a car again. In the first weeks of owning Sentra, I put thousands of miles on her just for the fun of exploration at the helm of a fantastic little ship. Her interior is about as pristine today as when I drove her off the lot – a stark contrast to the neglect my previous cars suffered. Washing happens two to three times per month, and I do it personally, by hand. If a woman can’t do her makeup in the reflection of my Sentra’s hood, it’s time to visit the carwash again. Today was her first oil change – 150 miles sooner than necessary.

Purchasing Sentra was one of the biggest financial decisions I’ve made so far, rivaled only by college (which cost a whole lot more and didn’t provide nearly as much instant gratification). I’m glad to say I have no regrets about that aspect of the situation.

I can’t recommend this car enthusiastically enough. Enjoying all the details and the distinctive look of Sentra, I’m thinking I may well be a Nissan man now. I’ve got a Maxima penciled in for purchase in 2011, once this girl is paid off.

Now I know what Billy Joel was on about when he wrote “The Longest Time.”

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