The Lexus LM is one of those cars where the driving experience feels more than a little inconsequential. Nine times out of 10, the buyer and driver, you have to imagine, are separate people – and the one signing on the dotted line won’t be spending much time in the front seat.
Once you’ve stopped chuckling at the sheer incongruity of a Lexus van with a £113k price, eased yourself into one of those sumptuous rear armchairs, fired up the 48in screen and selected a beverage from the minibar, the LM actually starts to make a lot of sense.
Inside, the obvious parallels with the likes of the Gulfstream G650 and Cessna Citation are no accident. Lexus worked with private jet manufacturers to create a cabin environment that is more opulent, cosseting and tech-laden than any other car in the brand’s line-up. Each occupant gets their own tablet device, which gives access to a dizzying array of seat settings – heating, ventilation, massage and reclining among them – as well as controls for the electronic roof and window blinds, ambient lighting, TV volume and doors. It’s a nice touch, but one that feels a touch unnecessary, given buttons and switches for all of the above are hosted in a nicely formatted control panel in the ceiling – airliner style.
Lexus says the LM is as much a mobile office as it is a living space, and indeed it’s better equipped than many a London board room. The screen can be plugged into two laptops at once and split into two separate interfaces to allow maximum productivity (or more likely two different Netflix programmes), and there are tray tables that fold and flip out of the armrests, Boeing 737-style, to host a laptop or tablet.
Thought the ‘sleeping seat’ in a Mercedes S-Class was cushy? You’ve seen nothing yet, Jeff. These go fully flat (although Lexus doesn’t recommend flattening them when the car’s in motion; and they’re actually more comfortable inclined just a little). The sheer size of the LM, and its monocab packaging, affords the necessary space. Even if you’re 6ft 3in, you won’t come close to running out of leg room.
The windows are absolutely massive on purpose, so that passengers are always aware of the LM’s speed and orientation, and the seats have been painstakingly structured to minimise body sway and head roll, so you can keep your eyes on a screen or a book without getting nauseous.
Twistier roads probe the limits of this sense of isolation, when the laptop starts sliding from side to side and you start feeling ever so slightly peaky. But pop your devices in one of the expansive storage cubbies and turn up the ventilated seats and you will soon feel restored.
The seven-seat LM goes without some of the more overtly Bentley-baiting features, swapping the 48in screen for a more conventional 14.0in flip-down device and the fridge for a storage bin, for example, but still occupants are afforded excellent leg room, sufficient gadgetry and enough storage bins to keep them satisfied and relaxed.
Notably, the third-row seats fold up and to the side when not needed, which feels rather an inelegant solution, although it does maximise floor space in the expansive boot. The electronic cabin divider – raised, lowered or opacified at the touch of a button – is exclusive to four-seat Takumi trim, but what the seven-seater loses in perceived privacy as a result, it makes up for in forward visibility and airiness.
Up front, space for the driver is tighter – the driving position perched, but comfortable. But material richness and fixture quality levels are consistent with those in the back, which is to say they’re very high indeed.
There’s a perceptible feeling of quality to every item of switchgear or visible mechanism, too, which only serves to enhance the luxury appeal – and, dare we suggest, lend credence to the notion that touchscreens and haptic controls aren’t always the answer. Nothing says relaxation like being able to deftly adjust your seat bolster or turn up the stereo with a mere flick of the wrist – with your eyes closed.
