DEARTH OF MINI-SPORT UTILITIES HELPS SUZUKI : TEST DRIVE.

Byline: James G. Cobb The New York Times

They're perky and popular, and they play hard to get. They're pint-sized, car-based sport utilities - cute utes, if you will - and if you must have one right away you should shop with a Plan B in mind.

Honda says there are enough CR-Vs in the country now to give every dealer as many as five to sell. Given the company's teasing - it showed the car last year at the New York Auto Show, and has promoted it on the World Wide Web - interest will probably outstrip supply. Factories in Japan have been struggling to meet demand there.

It may be easier to find a Toyota RAV4, which has been on the market for a year, but you may have to wait if your heart is set on a particular color and certain accessories. Furthermore, a serious fire in a parts factory is disrupting exports of all Japanese-made Toyotas. Another possibility, the Kia Sportage, is not sold in the Northeast or Midwest, and the Subaru Forester goes on sale later this year.

Suzuki holds out one alternative, the Sidekick Sport. But get this clear: While the CR-V is a polished car with a dose of personality and a place for lots of Rollerblades, the Sidekick is a rough-and-tumble scrapper, more Stanley Kowalski than Rhett Butler.

For 1996, having seen where the market was heading, Suzuki dusted off its familiar, aging four-door Sidekick (you may know it as the Geo Tracker down at the Chevy dealer) and gave it a makeover at the MTV Salon. Thick, contrasting moldings were slathered on the lower body, creating the illusion of muscle.

A nose ring - a rim of chrome around a new, jutting grille - added some attitude. Sport badges were tattooed onto the front doors, and alloy wheels provided some fancy footwear. A nice fabric dressed up the plain cabin, and power gadgets were tacked on like costume jewelry.

The cosmetic surgery, which cost little, actually works. Though the basic package is unchanged, the Sport looks bigger and beefier than a regular Sidekick, and to my surprise it drew unsolicited compliments from a couple of pedestrians. But a few minutes at the wheel will convince you that this is no overengineered Honda or painstakingly designed Toyota.

Though not without some rugged charm, the Sidekick Sport is primitive and trucklike in everyday use. And it has an image problem: the RAV4 is cuter, the CR-V is roomier and the Jeep Wrangler is more adventuresome. Among people who give names to their cars, is this a ``Fred'' or an ``Ethel''?

But an identity crisis is not the little Suzuki's biggest problem. It suffers from a distinct lack of power.

Though the 1.8-liter four-cylinder engine is of modern design, with 16 valves and dual overhead cams, it runs a bit rough and gets winded quickly on hills. There is enough low-end torque for off-roading, but the Sidekick Sport is sluggish and cantankerous in traffic. The five-speed manual transmission on the test vehicle, a top-of-the-line JLX, required constant shifting to compensate for the engine.

And the mushy, long-gated shifter reminded me of my father's old International pickup. Shifting to third brought suspense: Just where is the gear? Here? There? What's that grating noise?

To their credit, four-wheel-drive of the Sidekick, designed with third-world ruts in mind, can probably handle off-road feats that would frustrate more prissy car-based competitors with automatic all-wheel-drive systems.

The Suzuki has an unsophisticated part-time system with a two-speed transfer case that lets you engage extra-low gearing when the going gets rough.

The JLX does have automatic locking wheel hubs, so you don't have to step in the mud before engaging four-wheel drive. But you do have to come to a complete stop, in contrast to Jeep's shift-on-the-fly system.

Because few Sidekick owners spend much time off road, the vehicle's day-to-day livability is most important. And around town, the Sidekick Sport comes up short. Though reasonably agile, the steering feels numb. The brakes (front disks, rear drums) are barely adequate. Road, wind and engine noise are intrusive if not offensive.

Those raised on farms may think they're back in a tractor cab. The windows are tall (the windshield is practically square) and visibility is great. The narrow bucket seats are tailored for the young and trim, and the cushions are exceedingly hard. The back seat is too cramped for adults who've left youthful collegiality behind. Cargo space is quite limited unless that seat is folded.

The dashboard, though functional, has two serious flaws: Auxiliary controls, like the buttons for the cruise control and rear wiper, feel alike and are tucked down low, hidden by the steering wheel. And the stereo controls are the worst I've seen in a while: The buttons (sorry, no dials) are tiny and poorly marked. Even adjusting the volume forces you to focus on the radio, not the road.

All Suzuki Sports have dual air bags, daytime running lights, air conditioning and power windows, locks and mirrors. The rear-drive JS is $17,119 and the four-wheel-drive JX is $1,000 more. The JLX test vehicle, with standard equipment including the automatic hubs, anti-lock brakes, cruise control and rear wiper, rolled in at a heady $19,619, including a $420 shipping charge.

That puts the plebeian Suzuki right up against the CR-V and RAV4. Though the Sidekick Sport might appeal in certain circumstances - on a Caribbean isle, perhaps, or as a second car in the mountains - I'd seek out a day-to-day companion with better manners and a broader repertoire.

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Photo: A nose ring - a rim of chrome around the new, jutting grille - added some attitude to the 1996 Suzuki Sidekick.