► Mark Walton experiences a Chevrolet Tahoe
► One man, one massive truck, LA streets
► Why not think big?
‘So how many are travelling with you today?’ asks the man at the rental shop in Los Angeles airport, making small talk.
‘Just me,’ I reply.
‘Oh!’ he says, as though something’s gone wrong. ‘Er, you realise you’ve booked a Chevy Tahoe?’ Long pause. ‘It’s like big enough for nine people,’ he adds, to clarify.
‘Oh yes, I know,’ I reassure him, breezily. ‘Just want to, you know, “live the America dream” haha!’
True, I did – but this mega-Chevy isn’t just ‘American’ in its gargantuan size. The new Tahoe is positively Trumpian, a colossal statement of confidence and excess, a symbol of the country’s distinctly unapologetic, ‘screw-you’ attitude in 2025. Some may think it’s obscene, but I’ve been brought up to respect other people’s cultures – I’m happy to say I love it. At 5.3 metres long, over two metres wide, and (incredibly) 1.95 metres tall (that means a roofline 6ft 5in off the ground) the Tahoe is a behemoth – a civilised, showroom monster truck with a vertical nose taller than Washington’s forehead at Mount Rushmore.
The rental company’s Premier edition has a 5.3-litre V8 and a 10-speed automatic driving all four wheels. Inside, the driver and front passenger are separated by a glovebox so wide, it’s like you’re sitting each side of a dishwasher. In the back you can practically stand up and walk around like you’re in a low-ceiling camper van. It’s huge, it’s magnificent, and on the boulevards of South Bay LA, it’s perfect.
You have to understand, the Tahoe has simply adapted to its environment. The lanes are wide here, the parking spaces generous and the turns all follow broad, gentle arcs. And it’s here, while cruising around and thinking about Darwin and habitat, that it suddenly strikes me. I reckon the entire genus of American automobiles actually evolved thanks to one thing: the four-way stop.
Even if you’ve never been to the US, you’ll know the four-way stop from the movies – it’s a crossroad junction where each approaching car has to stop at the line. It’s a first-come-first-served system – any car that stops before you has the right of way, and when you’ve stopped momentarily and you see all the other cars still moving, it’s your turn.
The origin of this kind of junction is lost in history, but the first proper stop signs were introduced in Detroit in 1914. That’s very close to the introduction of the first roundabout in the UK, built in Letchworth Garden City in 1909. Two habitats were created, and over a century later you can still feel that the Tahoe is the result of that early branching of the ‘phylogenetic tree’.
So back in LA, I roll up to the four-way stop gently and easily, one hand on the wheel, one elbow resting on the dishwasher. I check all directions using the panoramic views from my giant, air-conditioned watch tower. When it’s my turn, I squeeze the accelerator and the Tahoe growls mildly and pulses forward with a feeling of effortless muscle. The V8 revs to something like 6000rpm but I barely get above tickover as I drift from junction to junction. In this languid, stop-start, straight-line environment, the Tahoe feels undemanding and luxurious – as convenient as a drive-through drugstore, extrapolated to an entire city. Instead of excessive, it feels like exactly what I need.
I briefly imagine a Tahoe in the UK. Tackling a roundabout would be like doing an emergency swerve in a top-heavy cruise ship. It would feel bloated and heavy and softly sprung. Equally, a Mini or Ford Puma transported to LA would feel small and strained on these junctions. The four-way stops are often combined with brutal, concrete gulleys, designed to drain the streets after heavy rains – though usually they’re bleached white under the California sun. You have to bounce over these channels as you cross the junction, the road scored either side with all the front bumpers that have scraped their paint as they bottom out. The Tahoe lumbers over these, but a small European hatchback would probably snap in half.
So yes, if I moved to LA you’re damn right I’d buy a Chevy Tahoe. It’s a lot of car for the money – £60k for the Premier edition, £10k-£20k less than a Land Rover Disco 5 in the equivalent spec. And as Donald Trump once said, ‘You have to think anyway – so why not think big?’
Editor-at-large Mark Walton returned to his senses on the flight back from LA