Chery Tiggo 7 vs LDV D90

What's the difference?

Is the Chery Tiggo 7 just cheap, or is it cheerful too?

Well, not only does this plug-in hybrid break new ground for pricing, but it’s more than a one-trick-pony with a cleverly-tuned hybrid drivetrain that saves fuel, even when the battery is depleted.

The Tiggo 7 still needs work in some areas, from the average software, to the spongy driving dynamics, but there’s no denying this SUV will put the pressure on its rivals.

Which variant would I pick? Actually I’d probably splash the extra cash for the Tiggo 8 plug-in, which seems slightly better at everything and is physically more car for not a lot of extra outlay.

Note: CarsGuide attended this event as a guest of the manufacturer, with accommodation and meals provided.

Looking for a cheap, powerful diesel SUV with huge cabin space and a humane third row for adults? The D90 is a really sound offering, especially considering the price of entry for this top-spec diesel which should resonate with Aussies a bit better than the petrol version.

It has plenty of issues that could be ironed out, but they’re all so small and not sale-breaking it’s almost annoying how much better the D90 could be with just a little work. Rivals should be looking over their shoulder for what comes next.

The Tiggo 7 hybrid sticks to the combustion car’s relatively tame styling. Chery hasn’t followed rivals like BYD, MG, and Kia down the track of having more extreme designs, instead choosing something that will appeal to many people. It still has a glitzy grille, big wheels, and a contemporary light bar across the tailgate, but maintains a pretty standard boxy visage.

It’s even difficult to tell the plug-in hybrid apart from the combustion car, with the main differences being the more aerodynamic wheel designs, and a different and more sleek light-bar piece across the rear.

The inside is much the same story, looking nearly identical to the combustion version. 

If you look closely, you’ll see the lack of an ignition button, because you just put your foot on the brake to start the car, but other than that it’s a familiar and contemporary synthetic-leather-clad space.

If anything there’s an element of Mercedes worship, with the door trims, switchgear, and even dual-panel screen layout looking like an homage to something like an A-Class.

Again, it shoots for mass appeal rather than choosing to make a statement on design direction, and for many will be nice enough.

Some colleagues I’ve spoken to like the way the D90 looks. To me, it looks like someone gene-spliced a Hyundai Tucson with a SsangYong Rexton in a lab, then grew it in a stew of peptides and this was the result.

What can’t really be communicated in images is how truly massive the D90 is. At over five metres long, two metres wide and almost two metres tall, the D90 is certifiably huge. Given that’s the case then, it’s admittedly almost admirable that only the side profile makes this thing look a little goofy.

I think LDV has done a pretty good job on the front, and the rear is simple but well resolved for a vehicle that rides on a ladder chassis (just take a look at the Pajero Sport for how ladder-chassis rear designs can get… controversial…).

The wheels, garnishes, and LED headlights are all tastefully applied. It’s not ugly… just confronting… size-wise.

Inside shares some familiar characteristics with sister-brand MG. Look from a distance and it’s all quite nice, get in too close and you’ll see where the corners have been cut.

The first thing I don’t like about the interior is the materials. Apart from the wheel they are all pretty cheap and nasty. It’s a sea of hollow plastics and mixed trims. The faux-wood pattern, which is clearly just a print on a plastic resin is particularly gnarly. Reminds me of some Japanese cars from 20 years ago. It might work for the Chinese audience, but that’s not where the market is in Australia.

On the other hand, you could say “well, what do you expect at this price?” and that is true. Everything is here and works, just don’t expect the D90 to be playing alongside the established players when it comes to fit, finish, or material quality.

The huge screen works to finish the dash, but that darned software is so ugly you’ll wish it didn’t. At least all the major touch-points are ergonomically accessible.

There are a few quirks that mean the Tiggo 7 isn't the most practical option in the space, but it hits on some key things regardless.

For a start, the seating position is a little odd. It’s a bit too high which is good for visibility, but not so great if you don’t want to feel like you’re being tossed side-to-side in corners.

And while the seat and wheel have a reasonable range of motion for adjustability, the fixed nature of the dual screens and how close the wheel sits to them will make taller drivers feel like they're peering down on the screens, or that they’re blocked by part of the steering wheel.

At least visibility is excellent out of the cabin and the plush seat trim makes for a comfortable drive.

Also a little strange is the shifter. You need to properly depress the brake pedal to get it to shift into drive or reverse. Simply holding the brake pedal enough for the car to be stopped isn’t good enough, which can be frustrating when you’re trying to do a quick three point turn.

Weird ergonomics aside, there’s enough cabin storage. This consists of a large bottle holder in each door, a further two with spring-loaded edges in the centre console, and there’s a bay for your phone which is also the wireless charger on higher grades. Covering the bottle holder and phone area is a somewhat old-school rolling shutter. Good for cable management, I suppose.

Underneath the bridge-style console is another textured storage area, which is good for loose objects or small bags, and the armrest box is nice and deep too.

This brings us to the screens and lack of dials. On the plus side, there is a dedicated touch panel with shortcuts for most of the core climate functions. This is never as good as having actual tactile buttons and dials, but it’s better than full touchscreen controls.

The screens, meanwhile, are fast and sharp, but the software is downright ordinary, and not good enough if you’re going to make screens such a focal point of the car.

The sheer number of different menus and confusingly labelled tabs within them makes adjusting things on the fly pretty frustrating and there’s something of a learning curve to try and figure all the bits out. The worst part is it’s not even consistent in terms of menu layouts and locations between the Tiggo 7 and Tiggo 8.

The Tiggo 7's digital dash is fine. It’s a dual-dial layout with a few screens on the right side to toggle through. Weirdly the trip computer seems to only record the last 50km in this panel. I wish it was more customisable and presented data in a more attractive way.

At least the wireless Apple CarPlay was seamless and worked well in my time with the cars.

The back seat is a highlight of the Tiggo 7. The abundance of synthetic leather trims continue into the rear doors, as do the soft seat bases. Behind my own driving position (I’m 182cm tall) I had leagues of legroom and headroom was great too. Amenities are okay, with a pocket on the back of each seat, a single USB port, adjustable air vents, and two storage trays. There’s a large bottle holder in each door and in the drop-down armrest, too.

At the time of writing, Chery was yet to provide official figures for the boot space, which is thought to be slightly different from the combustion car. For reference, the combustion car’s boot measures in at 356 litres to the top of the seat backs, which is far from the largest in the category. and frustratingly there’s only a tyre repair kit under the floor as well as the 12-volt battery and high-voltage inverter for the charging system.

It’s important to also call out that the Tiggo 7 Super Hybrid doesn’t get a household power outlet anywhere in the cabin or boot, which feels like a missed opportunity to make the most of its battery.

The D90 is as massive on the inside as it is on the outside. I’m talking better space than a minivan, and nothing says that more than the humane third row. At 182cm tall, I not only fit in the rearmost two seats, but I can do so in as much comfort as any other row. It’s staggering. There’s actual airspace for my knees and head back there.

The second row is massive and on rails too, so you can extend the amount of room available to third-rowers – and there’s so much room in the second row, you’ll have space even with the seats moved forward.

My only criticism here is that the giant rear door is far enough forward to make clambering into the third row a little tricky. Once you’re there though there are really no complaints.

The boot is even usable with the third row deployed, with a claimed 343L of space. That should be hatchback-sized, but the measurement is a little deceptive as the space is tall but shallow, meaning it will only allow you to place smaller bags (a few, if you can stack them) with the remaining space.

The boot is otherwise cavernous with a wild 1350L available with the third row stowed flat, or 2382L with the second row stowed. In this configuration, with the front passenger seat slid forward to its furthest position, I was even able to get a 2.4-metre-long benchtop in the back. Truly impressive.

Without buying an actual commercial van then, this could be the cheapest way into such room, especially in a 4x4 bi-turbo diesel SUV. No arguing with that.

Second-row occupants get their own climate control module, USB ports and even a full-sized household power outlet, with more legroom than you could possibly need. My only complaint was that the seat trim seemed a little flat and cheap.

Front occupants get large cupholders in the centre console, a deep armrest box (with no connectivity in it, just a randomly placed DPF cycle switch), pockets in the doors, and an awkward binnacle under the climate controls that houses the single available USB port. My phone didn’t fit in there.

No complaints about leg and headroom in the front either, though, with plenty of adjustability to boot. The driver’s seat offers a commanding view of the road, although it can be a little unsettling to be so far off the ground in corners… more on that in the driving section.

On paper, the seven-seat D90 is immediately quite appealing. At $47,990, it is literally a lot of car for the money. This latest iteration, the bi-turbo diesel, is only available in Executive trim at this price, but you can pinch pennies further by choosing one of the lesser petrol turbo variants.

Regardless, and much like its MG sister brand, LDV is good at making sure that essential spec boxes are ticked.

This includes screens galore as is popular in the Chinese market, including a massive 12-inch multimedia screen and 8.0-inch digital dash.

A screen is only as good as the software that runs on it though, and let me tell you, the D90’s software is not good. A quick flick through the weirdly small menu reveals barebones functionality, terrible resolution and response time, as well as possibly the worst execution of Apple CarPlay I’ve ever seen.

I mean, it doesn’t even use all of that screen real estate! Not only that, but in a recent overhaul to CarPlay, Apple released software to utilise wider displays – so the car’s own software must simply be incapable of supporting it. Inputs also proved laggy, and I had to repeat myself on multiple occasions to get any use out of Siri. Unlike every other car I’ve used, the software in the D90 wouldn’t return to the radio after you hang up or stop talking to Siri. Frustrating.

I’d rather have a far smaller display that actually worked well. The semi-digital dash was functional, although barely did anything that a small dot-matrix display isn’t capable of and had one screen which for my entire week said ‘loading’. I’m still not sure what it was meant to do…

At least it supports Apple CarPlay at all, which is more than could have been said for segment hero, the Toyota LandCruiser.

The D90 does tick some necessary items that are quite good. LED headlights are standard, as are leather seats with eight-way power adjust for the driver, a heated multi-function steering wheel, 19-inch alloy wheels (which still somehow look small on this huge thing), three-zone climate control, eight-speaker audio system, electric tailgate, keyless entry with push-start ignition, a reversing camera, front and rear parking sensors, tyre-pressure monitoring, as well as a fairly substantial safety suite which we’ll explore later in this review.

Great on paper then, the bi-turbo diesel engine is a boon, as is the fact that the D90 rides on a ladder chassis with an electronically-controlled low-range terrain mode for the transmission, too.

You’d expect to pay more – even from Korean and Japanese rivals for this much specification. No matter which way you cut it, the D90 is good value.

Underneath a plastic cover there’s a mass of nearly unrecognisable stuff, but under the bright orange cablework and an enormous black plastic air box, there’s a 1.5-litre turbocharged four-cylinder engine (105kW/215Nm) mated up to what Chery calls a one-speed ‘dedicated hybrid transmission’.

I think Chery is underselling it by calling a quite clever hybrid transaxle a ‘one-speed’ transmission, because it’s far more complicated than that and makes this car more than a one-trick pony.

You see, with clutch packs and software and an electric motor that can put out even more power than the engine (150kW/310Nm), this hybrid system makes this version of the Tiggo 7 the best one to drive, and makes it remarkably efficient, even when the battery is drained, and not all plug-ins can claim the same.

The D90 was initially offered in Australia with a 2.0-litre turbo petrol four-cylinder, but this 2.0-litre bi-turbo diesel makes much more sense, both for towing and long-distance touring.

It’s a four-cylinder offering a healthy 160kW/480Nm. You’ll note that’s pretty close to Ford’s similar 2.0-litre bi-turbo diesel, which is currently offered in the Everest…

The diesel also gets its own transmission, an eight-speed torque converter automatic with computer-controlled ‘Terrain Selection 4WD’.

This gives the D90 diesel a max towing capacity of 3100kg braked (or 750kg unbraked) with a max payload of 730kg.

Officially, the Tiggo 7 Super Hybrid can travel up to 93km in purely electric mode thanks to its big 18.3kWh battery, although this is on the more lenient NEDC standard. 

We’ll need to get the car back for a longer test to see how far it can travel in EV mode in real-world conditions as results tend to vary greatly between PHEVs, especially on a launch drive.

Regardless, the clever hybrid system I was talking about before is important because unlike some of its rivals, this Chery is still pretty efficient even if you forget to charge up.

The battery maintains a reasonably high level of reserve charge, which allows the car to draw from a deeper reservoir for electric acceleration, which it can then replenish with regenerative braking or when using the engine idle time as a generator.

Chery says it will consume less than 6.0L/100km even with a depleted battery and that’s about what we saw on all of our test cars, which hovered between 4.1 and 5.8L/100km, despite being driven hard on country roads.

The pitch is it’s as efficient as any plugless hybrid anyway, regardless of whether you charge it. An interesting shift in mindset.

Officially, the Chery Tiggo 7 consumes just 1.4L/100km (although this accounts for the battery being charged), and it can drink entry-level 91 RON fuel, too.

Charging is also a good story, with the Tiggo 7 able to top up on both a slow AC charger, and a fast DC charger, slashing charging times when you’re on the go. On a fast charger, it can charge at a maximum speed of 40kW, allowing a quoted 30 to 80 per cent charge time of just 20 minutes.

The D90 diesel is said to consume 9.1L/100km of diesel on the combined cycle, but ours didn’t score near that with a figure of 12.9L/100km after a week of what I’d consider “combined” testing.

The D90 a big unit, so that number doesn’t seem outrageous, it’s just nowhere near the claim… All D90s have 75-litre fuel tanks.

This plug-in version of the Tiggo 7 is the best to drive, although it’s not free from quirks and is still far from the front of the pack when it comes to driving dynamics.

As previously mentioned, the high and upright driving position hardly sets the scene for a sporty drive, with even rivals like the Mitsubishi Outlander nailing this key ergonomic factor.

On the flipside, visibility out of the cabin is excellent, as you can peer down on things and easily manoeuvre in tight spaces.

The steering is also too artificial, communicating very little feel from the front wheels to the driver, and this conspires with an overly-soft suspension tune for a floaty, disconcerting feeling in corners.

A driver’s car this is not, but the trade-off for the lack of dynamism is a car that's pretty comfortable over adverse road conditions. The Tiggo 7’s spongy ride has it simply floating over rough bits of road, and compressing relatively nicely on larger bumps and undulations.

Certainly a choice has been made to make this car better for urban commuters than trying to strike a balance for country roads and cornering and risk making the ride unpleasant on daily bumps. Still, there are rivals that strike a better balance out in the market.

Perhaps the most interesting element of driving this car though is its electrified engine and transmission. Effectively this system behaves like a continuously variable transmission (CVT), but it feels as though it uses its big electric motor far more than it uses the engine.

Chery says they’ve used software to tune the car in such a way that it makes better use of the electric components. The car can draw more deeply from a bigger battery reserve compared to a plugless hybrid for stronger acceleration, and it can also store far more energy from regenerative braking or engine idle time.

The other side effect is a high level of cabin refinement. The Tiggo 7 is a surprisingly quiet place to be, to the point that it’s hard to tell when the engine is even running, it’s so quiet.

It’s also quick in a straight line, primarily using electric drive for the take off, with the engine coming to life only when it really has to for support. Even under extremely heavy acceleration the engine doesn't scream to life in an unpleasant way, instead whirring along in the background.

It’s not insanely fast, nor would you want it to be with its slightly unsettling suspension and steering, but it has enough power in Sport mode to easily overwhelm the halfway decent Maxxis tyre it scores from the factory.

Road noise is more of a problem than the engine, noticeably picking up at speeds above 80km/h.

In conclusion, this car is comfortable but dynamically uninspiring, with a clever and quiet hybrid system. It will suit family buyers looking for a comfortable, quiet, and efficient car, but keen drivers might want to look elsewhere if budget allows.

The D90 is easier to drive than it looks… to a degree…

It lacks some polish of its more established rivals, which results in a drive experience that isn’t bad, but occasionally frustrating.

The ride somehow manages to be soft and harsh at the same time. It undulates over larger bumps, while transmitting the worst parts of smaller, sharper ones to the cabin. It speaks to a lack of calibration between the suspension and dampers.

That having been said, the D90 masks its ladder chassis underpinnings well, with little of that typical body-on-frame jiggle that some rivals still struggle with.

The drivetrain is good, but a little unruly. As you’d imagine from the figures, there’s more than enough power on tap, but the transmission tends to have a mind of its own.

It will occasionally lurch between gears, pick the wrong gear, and off-the-line will sometimes be delayed before shunting the D90’s bulk forward with a sudden mountain of torque. It doesn’t sound particularly good either, with the diesel surging through the rev range with industrial crudeness.

By the time the D90 has reached cruising speed though, there’s really not much to complain about, with the D90 milling along with plenty of power in reserve for overtaking. The view of the road is commanding, but you really feel the D90’s high centre of gravity in the corners and under heavy braking. The physics of such a large object are undeniable.

I have to say, LDV has done a fantastic job of the D90’s steering, with a quick, light feel that betrays the SUV’s size. It manages to stray on the right side of lightness though, not being so disconnected that you lose a feeling of where the wheels are pointing. No mean feat in something this shape.

Overall then, the D90 isn’t bad to drive and has some genuinely great characteristics, it just also has a litany of small issues that get in the way of it being truly competitive with segment leaders.

The LDV D90 carries a maximum five-star ANCAP safety rating as of 2017, and has a fairly comprehensive active safety suite.

Included on the diesel is auto emergency braking (AEB) with front collision warning, lane-departure warning, blind-spot monitoring, driver-attention alert, traffic-sign recognition, and adaptive cruise control.

Not bad for the price, and nice that there’s nothing optional. Expected items include electronic traction, stability, and brake controls, as well as six airbags.

The curtain airbags do extend to the third row, and there’s the bonus of a reversing camera and a tyre-pressure-monitoring system.

There is a full-size steel spare under the boot floor, and the D90 also gets dual ISOFIX and three top-tether child-seat mounting points.

Chery continues to use favourable ownership terms to help establish itself in the market. The Tiggo 7 Super Hybrid is covered by seven years and unlimited kilometres of warranty, seven years of roadside assist, and seven years of capped-price servicing.

The servicing program varies year-on-year, with a surprisingly expensive service of nearly $1300 due at the 90,000km mark. All said and done it works out to be $453.45 per year to service over the seven year duration, which isn’t super affordable, but it’s also not overly expensive.

LDV covers the D90 with a five-year/130,000km warranty, which is not bad… but falls behind sister brand MG, which offers seven years/unlimited kilometres. At the very least it would be nice to have the unlimited kilometre promise.

Roadside assist is included for the duration of that warranty, but there’s no capped price servicing offered through LDV. The brand gave us indicative pricing of $513.74, $667.15, and $652.64 for the first three annual services. An initial six-monthly 5000km checkup is free.

All D90s need to be serviced once every 12 months or 15,000km, whichever occurs first.