Don’t call the Prado soft. It may be the slightly lighter-duty variant of its Land Cruiser sibling, but it’ll still chew up your nearest CUV and use the resulting slurry it to lubricate its center diff. While laughing maniacally.


In case no one’s guessed by now, I live in the great Pacific Northwest, which explains why my ubiquitous plaid Amazon shirt is always soaked with Starbucks-branded rain (which falls from Microsoft clouds running Windows 7). Despite the dampness, old J-tin manages to stay relatively un-oxidized due to a lack of salty roadways, and our outdoorsy nature and mild climate mean that Toyota FJ60s roam the roads like so many urban deer looking for a stray nibble in a trash bin. Perhaps there is no higher concentration of old Land Cruisers than here. That being said, we’re also a hop-skip-and-poutine away from British Columbia, where jealousy-inducing import laws mean that RHD Japanese market imports roam the roads like so many deer … dammit, I just used that simile. You get the idea. And that’s where this lucky Prado resides.

Can you import it into the States? Frankly, I don’t have any clue. Word on the street is that there are some slightly shady loopholes to register a Japanese-Canadian vehicle in Washington State, but the idea of risking a federal seizure (with no compensation given) causes my Milhouse conflict-aversion genes to light up like the supercomputer in War Games when it was trying to nuke the planet. (I can guarantee you that particular simile has NEVER been previously used.) Other states? Who knows? If you’re coming to us for quasi-legal advice, you get what’s comin’ to ya!
Craigslist Vancouver B.C.