Would You Rather: Jeep Gladiator vs. GMC Canyon

For those of you baffled and confused by our last “Would You Rather?” and its segment-straddling combatants, we now give you a head-to-head comparison you can wrap your, uh, noggin around. Today we consider the Jeep Gladiator Sport S and the GMC Canyon AT4, two mid-size trucks that directly compete for your not-quite-full-size pickup dollar. (In this case, the Jeep is a 2022 model and the GMC a 2023, but neither is significantly different for 2024). Both have off-road pretensions, a 7700-pound max tow rating, and prices that tend to land in the mid-$40,000 range. In the case of these two particular vehicles, the Jeep is diesel-powered, and the GMC has a gas engine that cosplays as a diesel—General Motors’ tugboat torque-monster turbocharged 2.7-liter four-cylinder. Which one strikes your fancy and which one gets sent to Alaska for that event where they send cars off a cliff? Let’s get into it.

The most obvious difference here is philosophy. The Jeep is unabashedly polemic: We named it to the 10Best list in 2020, its debut year, but then passions cooled as we spent more time with our long-term Gladiator. The removable top is a joy on a nice day and a noisy bane on a highway slog. The solid front axle is a boon on the trail, but the numb recirculating-ball steering feels about as precise as an Old Farmer’s Almanac weather prediction. With its turbocharged 3.0-liter diesel V-6 and removable doors, the Gladiator is basically a high-speed tractor. It doesn’t even have an interior hood release.

Conversely, the Canyon AT4 strives to emulate a tall car—rack-and-pinion steering and independent front suspension go a long way on that front. The cab offers a sunroof but is otherwise fully enclosed, with all the sound-deadening benefits that come with a welded-on top. As a fresh design, the Canyon is up on its modern amenities, like wireless phone charging, lane keeping, and heated and ventilated front seats.

You might forget you’re driving a truck until you tip into the throttle and the Canyon’s big four-cylinder spins up its lazy mountain of torque. This is a truck engine, with a 5600-rpm redline and a soundtrack that’s decidedly forklift-adjacent. The 2.7-liter four sounds better outside the truck, where you hear the turbo spool up, but inside it’s just workmanlike clatter. And as you might expect, the GMC gas engine beats the Jeep’s diesel on horsepower, 310 ponies to 260, but the diesel wins on torque, with 442 pound-feet to the GMC’s 430. Both trucks have electronically locking rear differentials and are thus wet-weather drift machines in rear-wheel-drive mode. Jeep replaces the diesel with the hybrid 4xe powertrain for 2024, but right now Jeep still has plenty of 2023 models yet to sell.

The Gladiator and Canyon hew fairly closely in performance, whether gas or diesel. The Gladiator diesel hits 60 mph in 7.3 seconds, and the gas Overland trim with the ZF8 automatic transmission managed 7.2 seconds. We haven’t yet tested a Canyon, but a Chevy Colorado ZR2 Desert Boss with this powertrain dispatched 60 mph in 6.8 seconds—and didn’t sound happy doing it. At wide-open throttle, that Chevy made 76 decibels of racket. The diesel Gladiator is at 72 decibels at WOT. Although those sound readings were recorded on different surfaces, making a direct comparison tricky, the takeaway is clear: GM’s 2.7-liter four can be a raucous thing. And the Jeep’s VM Motori 3.0-liter diesel is rather refined while working hard, which makes sense given that it was originally developed for the Euro-market Cadillac CTS.

The engine is the only refined thing about the Gladiator, but this vehicle makes no apologies, and that’s part of its charm. The Jeep’s form-follows-function interior aesthetic might not look as of-the-moment as the Canyon’s sleek presentation, but would you rather control your headlights via a big rubberized knob on the dash or with a virtual button on a touchscreen? I don’t hate the Canyon’s touchscreen headlight controls as much as some people do—I typically leave headlights in automatic mode anyway—but that setup does imply an awful lot of trust in the long-term prospects of that screen and its software.

Differing approaches to headlight management are really part of a larger juxtaposition between the Jeep and the GMC, and it amounts to analog vs. digital. You control the Jeep’s transfer case via a big lever sticking out of the floor; the GMC gets an electronic selector. All Canyons use an eight-speed automatic transmission, while the gas Gladiators come standard with a six-speed manual. You push a button to open the Canyon’s sunroof—with the Jeep, you flip the windshield latches and throw back the top with your own arm power (or, on the hardtop, unlatch the two overhead panels and lift them off). I’d say the Jeep represents both loftier demands and bigger rewards. It is never content to fade into the background of your daily drive. Look—someone in the oncoming lane just waved to you because they, too, are driving a Gladiator. You’re part of a club, and don’t you forget it.

So, I know which way I’m going on this “Would You Rather?” because this Gladiator is mine. I don’t mind suffering some truckishness if I’m driving a truck, and I’m not driving 20,000 miles a year. My Gladiator is used for work, and it makes towing and hauling fun in a way that’s unique in the automotive world. I respect the Canyon and, intellectually, I can see that it’s the superior vehicle in a lot of ways. But for me it’s heart over head, and dumb fun for the win.