Chery Tiggo 8 PRO MAX vs LDV D90

What's the difference?

This mid-sized seven-seat SUV segment is dominated by just a handful of nameplates, and it’s easy to see how some of them might be under threat by something like the Chery Tiggo 8 Pro Max.

There are a few areas where it could use some fine-tuning, but these are mainly restricted to being pedantic about the drive experience. There are no dealbreakers here as there often can be for low-cost alternatives, and so long as you’re primarily putting kids in the back seats, this Tiggo is well equipped, comfortable, plush, and surprisingly refined.

With a robust ownership proposition as well, it’s hard to see why you wouldn’t consider one of these if you’re shopping in the seven-seat SUV space - and that's why this could be Chery's shot at the big leagues.

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 8 Pro Max just looks like a mid-size SUV. Perhaps if you calculated the average design cues of every mid-size SUV on the market, this would be what you end up with.

Of all the Chinese automakers currently in the market though, the Tiggo range of SUVs are the least controversial. There’s no weird theme to the design, there’s no bizarre light fittings or controversial angles. You could stick a badge on this car from any Korean or Japanese brand and you wouldn’t think twice about it.

It doesn’t say much for innovation, but I think it will very much work in this car's favour. It provides a much more globally appealing look when compared to the controversial design of BYD products, the crazy grilles and badging on GWM products, or the derivative style of the MG range.

For this reason it won’t turn heads at the school drop-off, but that’s perfect for families who want to run incognito and would normally buy a conservative mainstream SUV from Toyota or Mitsubishi.

Inside things get a bit more interesting. The Tiggo 8 has a contemporary design, complete with a high-riding bridge-style console, and the dual-screens are encased in a single housing that spans half the length of the dash.

It’s ambitious too, with generous amounts of soft-touch surfaces and synthetic leather finishes. Clearly, it’s inspired by others in the industry. The dual-screen layout is very Hyundai or Kia via Mercedes, while the Benz influence extends to the wood grain-look plastic inserts and even the little silver finishes covering the speakers up. Rather than a naff knock-off though, the Chery interior genuinely feels its own space.

The only areas that you can see through the facade to a car built-to-a price is in a handful of places. The steering wheel buttons, for instance, feel a bit cheap, and when it comes to those big screens, the resolution isn’t as high as you might expect, and the processing isn’t as fast as it could be, leading to a slightly laggy experience.

Still, the same can be said for many mainstream manufacturers, and at least Chery’s native software has been localised and is easy to navigate. Also, none of this stops the Chery from feeling properly plush on the inside. It was also seemingly pretty well put together, free of rattles, switchgear with too much play, or nasty hollow plastics.

First impressions are good.

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.

The interior is also thoughtfully designed, but it needs to compete with user-friendly cars like the Honda CR-V and Nissan X-Trail in this segment.

The front occupants are treated to a reasonably spacious cabin, which for the driver is quite adjustable, although the design of the dash means it sticks out into the front passenger’s knee area. Head and shoulder space is impressive, and everywhere you put your arms or knees there’s a soft-clad finish rather than hard plastic to greet you.

As already mentioned, the software isn’t half bad when it comes to ease-of-use, however the lack of tactile toggles or dials for the climate unit is a bit of a miss. It has its own dedicated set of touch controls below the screen itself, but they provide no tactile feedback, so are a little hard to use while on the move.

Storage is great, with large pockets and bottle-holders in the doors, a further two bottle holders in the centre console, a wireless phone charger, and a neat little set of drive mode buttons and a digital shift lever within easy reach.

The bridge-style console also offers a large pass-through area underneath for the storage of larger items, and there’s a deep centre armrest console box, too.

The second row is quite versatile, offering rail adjustment for the base, so you can maximise the room available to the third row if need be.

Second-row occupants (with the seats set to a decent position for myself at 182cm tall) have plenty of knee room and plenty of headroom, and the doors open nice and wide for the loading of objects or people.

Storage includes large pockets on the backs of the front seats, a bottle holder in each door, and a further two in the drop-down armrest. There is a set of adjustable air vents on the back of the centre console, with both a USB-A and USB-C port for power delivery.

The third row is a bit more challenging. I had to contort myself to get in with the second row seat either slid forward or folded flat. Once I was in there, I was surprised to find I fit, but only just.

My knees were hard up against the seat in front, while my head was touching the roof. Mercifully, I had enough room to slide my feet under the seat in front, otherwise it would’ve been too tight. It’s passable for adults then, but only in a pinch, and you wouldn’t want to be back there for long. No problem if you’re just putting kids back there though.

The third row gets air vents on either side with an independent fan speed controller on the mid-grade Elite and top-spec Ultimate, and there’s a useful storage tray, and small bottle holder on each side. You don’t get USB ports, but there’s a 12 volt outlet available just behind the rear seats in the boot.

On the topic of the boot, it is not as large as I was hoping, but then neither is the car itself.

The boot measures 479 litres with the second-row up, or just 117-litres with all seven seats deployed. It’s smaller than some mid-size rivals, but not enough for it to be a dealbreaker. We’ll get it back for a longer test to see what does and does not fit.

The floor is quite high to facilitate those fold-flat rear seats, and there’s a small under-floor storage tray where you can hide the retractable luggage cover on the Urban and Elite variants. Unfortunately the Ultimate gets a subwoofer here.

All variants get a space-saver spare wheel mounted outside underneath the car, so at least you don’t need to deal with a tyre repair kit.

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.

There is only one engine option in the Tiggo 8 Pro Max range, a 2.0-litre turbocharged four-cylinder petrol unit that produces 180kW/375Nm.

No matter which variant you choose, it’s also mated to a seven-speed dual-clutch automatic transmission. The Urban and Elite variants are front-wheel drive, while the Ultimate scores a Borg-Warner-sourced all-wheel-drive system with additional off-road drive modes.

The outputs are more than competitive with a lot of rivals, but there’s no fuel-saving hybrid option in the line-up just yet. It’s something Chery wants to add in the future.

Especially for Australia, the folks at Chery also made sure to get the Tiggo 8 Pro Max certified to tow. It can do that at up to 1300kg braked, or 750kg unbraked.

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.

The 2.0-litre turbo engine has an official/combined consumption rating of 8.1L/100km for the front-wheel drive variants, or 8.7L/100km for the all-wheel drive Ultimate.

On our drive route for the day which took place on curvy country roads and expressways, my Ultimate all-wheel-drive test example produced a figure of 9.5L/100km which seems reasonable.

Unfortunately the engine also requires mid-shelf 95RON unleaded fuel, so this will push your running costs up slightly.

The Tiggo 8 Pro Max has a 57-litre fuel tank, indicating an estimated maximum cruising range of 703km for FWD variants.

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.

Cars from Chinese brands often fall short of expectations when it comes to the drive experience, but the Tiggo 8 Pro Max moves everything in the right direction, and importantly it doesn’t add any deal-breaking characteristics along the way.

Visibility is great out of the cabin, with large windows all-round. The wing mirrors are great, but the centre rear-vision mirror is a quirky piece with a wide viewing angle. In a way this is great for parents, because with one glance you can see both out the rear of the vehicle and the rear seats to keep an eye on kids, but it does mess with your depth perception a bit.

On multiple occasions I felt like the car behind was tailgating, only to peer in the side mirrors to find that it was actually quite far back. Odd!

The steering is very light, and a bit disconnected as a result. While this sounds like a negative, I actually think suburban buyers who often negotiate with shopping centre parking lots, apartment towers, and school drop-offs will love it. It makes a big SUV feel really easy to steer and position.

Sure, it feels a bit doughy out on the open road, meaning it's hardly a confident corner-carver, but that’s not really the point of this car.

The engine on the other hand has loads of poke. Power of 180kW sounds like a lot because it is (once upon a time not so long ago this was well into V6 territory) and actually for the front-wheel-drive versions it might be a little bit too much power. It will readily spin the front wheels with slightly too much throttle input, which brings us nicely to the dual-clutch automatic which is responsible for communicating that power to the ground.

Dual clutches rightly raise a bit of a red flag for some because they can be particularly jerky from a standstill and have some pretty questionable gear shifts once you’re rolling. For the most part though, the Tiggo 8’s dual-clutch unit is pretty good. The brand stressed that it had done significant software tuning to this transmission to try to iron out nasty characteristics, and while it's still occasionally caught off-guard, I’ve certainly driven worse. It will occasionally produce a bucking feeling rather than a full second of lag like some rivals, but its enthusiasm to deliver power to the ground quickly gives the front-drive versions that slightly skittish feel.

It is one of those rare occasions when it’s worth splashing for the all-wheel drive. I found the Ultimate to be much more sure-footed and confident on the road, able to handle the engine’s relatively mountainous torque with ease.

On the open road I was impressed by the Tiggo 8’s level of refinement. The amount of sound entering the cabin in both variants was low, with minimal tyre roar or wind noise. Thuds from the suspension and roar from the engine under load were also pleasingly distant, even at freeway speeds.

When it comes to the ride it’s built to a certain cadence. It’s soft and comfortable, matching the semi-luxurious cabin feel nicely, but it can be a bit springy and lose a bit of body control over undulations and corrugations. Again, it’s not exactly an athlete, but then for most people, it won’t have to be.

Importantly, it filters out sharper bumps like potholes, road imperfections, and speed bumps with relative ease. It’s even better in the 2WD versions thanks to larger tyres and smaller alloy wheels.

Mercifully, the active safety systems don’t intrude on the driving experience either. Chery has apparently learned some hard lessons after the feedback it received on the overbearing lane assist equipment on the smaller Omoda 5, and applied those learnings here in the Tiggo 8.

The lane systems are still there, but they only intervene when they really have to, while warning chimes from things like the traffic sign recognition, blind spot monitoring, and driver attention alert are, at worst, background. It’s a good thing too because of all the systems, the driver attention alert is the one that triggers most often as you look away from the road to adjust the touch-based climate systems.

Where does that leave us? Actually pretty impressed. The Tiggo 8 Pro Max might not have the balancing act between ride quality and performance quite as well tuned as some of its Japanese and Korean rivals, but this is a comfortable, quiet, and refined SUV that, importantly, feels very normal. There’s no deal-breaking safety bugs, or a terrible transmission or frustrating software that takes away from the experience. Chery is learning, and it’s learning fast.

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 offers its line-up with seven years and unlimited kilometres of warranty, seven-years of capped-price servicing, and seven years of roadside assist.

The roadside assist is topped up on a 12 monthly basis so long as you service with Chery. At the time of writing, Chery was yet to provide costings for its capped-price servicing program, but if it follows the same scheme as the Omoda 5 and Tiggo 7, it will be competitive.

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.