Malaysians are impossibly optimistic people. During the occupation, we believed leaflets saying ‘Asia for Asians’ and let a few bicycle-riding sadists ride on through, thinking tem to be our salvation. After the occupation, we believed we ought to give away precious oil-bearing land to some water-people, and we wouldn’t miss the spoils. Today, we believe that our failing currency and increasing taxes are an act of God.

My cynicism aside, we’ve always had high-hopes for home-born industry and engineering. Malaysia, for example, exported $1.4 billion in rubber last year, amounting to 8.4% of global rubber exports. We grow, process, and consume palm oil at truly alarming rates, putting us in the top 10 of nations that produce palm oil. And then, there’s Proton.

Not many countries as small as ours have their own national cars. The brainchild of former prime minister Tun Dr. Mahathir Mohammed, he believed that by producing our own cars, we’d be able to hone better automotive engineers, create more jobs, and build national pride by having Malaysian-made cars on the road. And for a while, he was right. I am told of a time not too long ago when Proton Sagas were saluted by our security forces whenever one drove by. Even though the Saga was built on a slightly older Mitsubishi platform, it didn’t matter. Here was a car we could own and drive, that we could hang upon our national pride. It was incredible.

The last paragraph was written mostly in past-tense for two reasons. Firstly, because the Saga is a thing of the past, as are the sentiments and ideologies I brought forth. Secondly, because those sentiments and ideologies are currently about as alive as I am dead. Despite the Government’s best efforts to protect the national car industry, Malaysians are working harder and harder to be able to afford something that isn’t a Proton. For the same price as a decently-sized Preve, it seems more of us are willing to settle for a smaller car, provided it has a more desirable badge. National pride? Yeah right. We gave that up a long while ago, in exchange for some properly functional electric windows.

Every time Proton came up with something new, it almost always got tagged by motoring journalists like me as “the best car PROTON has made to date.” And they’re usually right. When the Waja came out, it really was the best car they’d made thus far. But that probably had something to do with the awfulness of the cars it succeeded. Same was said of the Gen.2, but that had everything to do with the fact that no Proton before it could so easily slide underneath a lorry in a front-to-rear collision. And the very same hopes were pinned on the Preve, right before we started seeing more and more of them with only one headlight on.

Now, we have the Iriz. Once you discard the Suprima S, the Iriz is the first car to be designed, engineered, and built by Proton under DRB-Hicom stewardship. I find this to be quite significant, because since taking over, DRB-Hicom has made incredible strides to improve the quality of Proton cars and service to meet the standards set by today’s discerning consumers. But making the service attendant smile wider and ensure I can find Stevia in the waiting room will make no difference if the cars are still as woeful as ever, and so they’ve been tooling away at the cars, ensuring promises are met and standards are heightened.

From the almond-shaped headlights with neat ‘PROTON’ lettering, to the ‘chamfered’ rear and large central badge, the Iriz is a thoroughly modern vehicle. It’s a clear departure from what we’re used to from the company, and that’s definitely a good thing. It’s a handsome little devil, with the right mix of feminine and masculine traits as far as the eye can see. The design is aggressive, but not overly so, and despite looking brilliant, it’s functional too. Those large lights house projector headlamps to help cut through the inky darkness of our nights. The ‘blades’ on the side of the door help to make them more rigid, and a little quieter. And the squat stance help give the car better stability, regardless of speed.

Inside, you’d be forgiven if you thought it was foreign. With textured materials wherever you look, the cabin of the Iriz is a thing to behold. Of course, it isn’t going to take your breath away the way a Bentley would, but when you consider prices start at just over RM40,000, it suddenly seems that much more impressive. The faux leather stitching on the dash got me at first, leading me to grope the top rather inappropriately only to find it was just plastic. The controls were lovely too, with a chunky little steering wheel, and little binnacles placed behind it. It all felt a little… European. Ooh.

With a few kilometers between me and the Proton office, I settled into the Iriz. In my hands was the 1.6 Premium model, replete with CVT automatic gearbox. It didn’t take long for me to get annoyed with the transmission, with its noises ranging from a droning hum to an irritating squeal. It didn’t help that it had the reflexes of a drunkard either, as if someone had replaced its fluids with six bottles of absinthe and sent it on its way. I could write about how awful the gearbox is until my fingers fall off. But I won’t.

Idiotic gearbox aside, the Iriz started to show me some better qualities. Despite fighting for the same turf as the Myvi, it felt leaps and bounds more sophisticated. The ride was pliant, but the handling fun. The steering was responsive and accurate, but never too heavy. And the seats… my God, the seats. The semi-buckets up front were a joy to sit in, and the sculpted rear bench did just as well. I’d happily do long distances in an Iriz, provided someone could shut the gearbox up…

Finding some twisty back roads, I let the car breathe a little. The Iriz doesn’t sport a badge on the back that says it was tuned by Lotus, and that’s because it hasn’t been. A bunch of skilled Malaysians set up this car’s suspension, and skilled they are indeed. A short burst through tight turns had me grinning from ear to ear, as I began to feel the Iriz respond to my every whim through the wheel. It felt nimble and agile, without having sacrificed any refinement or comfort in being so. The 1.6 VVTi engine was happy too, with a free-revving nature and a pretty decent note. The only fly in the ointment was, as you guessed it, the dim-witted gearbox. Never had I wanted a manual so badly in my life as I did at that moment. Never.

Yes, I managed to mention the gearbox in three consecutive paragraphs. That’s just how bad it is.

So. Why is the Iriz the best car Proton has ever made?

For starters, it has nothing to do with the utter failure that was the Tiara, or the ‘hidup segan, mati tak mahu’ nature of the Savvy. Oh no, the Iriz really does set new standards for the company, with unrivalled quality and engineering that cannot be seen anywhere else in the Proton range. Having improved the bits we always found lacking and built upon the things we always liked, Proton has finally managed to give us a car that can restore those sentiments we Malaysians once felt about our (first) national carmaker. And when you consider the that it’s effortlessly safer and more refined than its competition, the Iriz becomes a real no-brainer. It’s a brilliant little thing, this. Really, it is.

Jalur Gemilang, di bawah naungan mu…