Yukon 4WD Denali Ultimate
Imposing as the Yukon Denali is, thanks to a well-calibrated suspension and controls, plus a 360-degree protection zone of sensors, alerts and cameras, it drives much smaller than might be expected. This color is Titanium Rush Metallic.
No, that’s not Mt. Denali in the distance, nor the Yukon Territory. Instead, focus more closely and note the Yukon Denali Ultimate’s luxurious and even tasteful Alpine Umber leather-swaddled cabin with many actual switches and buttons plus massaging seats, a 12-inch screen, inductive phone charger, ample storage space and power outlets, and (in the steering-wheel rim) the eyeball scanner that enables Super Cruise hands-free driving.
Imposing as the Yukon Denali is, thanks to a well-calibrated suspension and controls, plus a 360-degree protection zone of sensors, alerts and cameras, it drives much smaller than might be expected. This color is Titanium Rush Metallic.
No, that’s not Mt. Denali in the distance, nor the Yukon Territory. Instead, focus more closely and note the Yukon Denali Ultimate’s luxurious and even tasteful Alpine Umber leather-swaddled cabin with many actual switches and buttons plus massaging seats, a 12-inch screen, inductive phone charger, ample storage space and power outlets, and (in the steering-wheel rim) the eyeball scanner that enables Super Cruise hands-free driving.
This is one of those love-hate relationships. For starters, squeezing it into my driveway without a two-point turn requires backing in; if the Yukon were a boat, it would have a bow thruster. (Really, since it’s the front end that turns, it would have a stern thruster.) The captain’s seat—and each of the three other cushy thrones—is notably adjustable and comfortable, but it takes an electrically-deploying step to climb up into it. This rig is 17.5 feet long and almost seven feet wide, stands seven inches taller than I do and, with a full tank of gas, outweighs me by 5,786 pounds, but it’s got better moves than I do.
Unless maybe we’re both on a snowy hill and I’m on skis? But this Yukon has not only all-wheel drive and surprisingly coherent steering but also magnetic ride control, an adaptive air suspension (it “kneels” automatically to allow easier ingress and egress) and an electronic limited-slip differential at the rear axle. Put good snow tires on these 22-inch wheels and that contest might be a draw.
The Yukon is also packing a 6.2-litre V-8 brimming with 420 horsepower, which is about 418.8 more than I can exert, not to say 460 pound-feet of torque. I can’t tow 8,000-pound loads either and, if I had one, my 10-speed automatic transmission probably could not shift as perfectly and seamlessly as this one does. (It’s a 2024 model, after all, while my drivetrain dates back to 1950.)
Denali, you will recall, is the name of the tallest mountain in North America and was thus chosen by GMC to designate the topmost trim level of its ordinarily utilitarian vehicles, such as the Sierra 1500 Denali Ultimate and the Canyon Denali Crew Cab, pickups trucks we also hate to love. (Love to hate?)
Driving this grand but not grandiose machine makes me think of riding a biddable 17-hands saddle horse, or maybe a BMW 1600 Grand America touring bike: Both are upright, large, heavy and feel commanding, yet they are compellingly easy to cruise in, or on, and even to maneuver. They’re costly, too. The out-the-door price of this Ultimate is $101,245. That’s peanuts alongside a fully tricked-out Cadillac Escalade, but with less eye-watering bling and noise, this Ultimate Yukon is much less likely to get the peasants reaching for their pitchforks.
In a New England coastal village, a GMC Yukon of any flavor seems like wretched excess even before considering the V-8 Ultimate’s average 16 MPG fuel efficiency; there are more cost-effective ways to transport the family. But in one of the bays of a six-car garage alongside a 12,000-foot custom log “cabin” outside Jackson Hole, it would look perfectly at home. Context, like timing, can be everything.
Next week: Subaru Forester
