Chery Tiggo 8 vs LDV D90

What's the difference?

A bargain price, clever hybrid system, and a spacious interior with useful third row is a rare and potent combination which should continue to catapult Chery into a successful future.

Sure, the dull driving dynamics, sometimes befuddling software, and over reliance on touchscreens could and should be addressed, but at this price and with these ownership terms, the Tiggo 8 Super Hybrid is a tough proposition to argue with.

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.

Unlike some of its rivals in this space, the Tiggo 8 has a fairly generic boxy SUV design. It’s not as interesting as many of its rivals, but it also strays away from being controversial.

The derivative grille design and light signatures make it blend into traffic nicely, making it an ideal SUV for someone who intentionally doesn’t want to stand out, at least not in quite the same way as something like the BYD Sealion 6.

There’s also nothing that looks proportionally off about it, and the strong lines and spoiler piece over the rear give it a (very) faint air of toughness.

Inside this plug-in hybrid version gets a significantly different interior compared to the combustion Tiggo 8 that launched in 2024. The design is much more contemporary, dominated by the huge central touchscreen which is much bigger than the one in both the Tiggo 7 and the combustion Tiggo 8, and there’s new switchgear for the indicator stalk and for the steering wheel buttons, too.

Unfortunately, this comes at the cost of the climate shortcut panel which remains in the Tiggo 7. Instead, you’re forced to navigate through new software which has a dedicated climate zone.

Still, it’s a glitzy looking interior with big screens and interesting material choices, particularly at this price. The Tiggo 8 even manages to avoid some of the blatant Mercedes-Benz worship as seen in the smaller Tiggo 7, and the synthetic seat trim is also distinct from the rest of the Chery range. In this plug-in Tiggo 8 it’s a kind of sturdy-feeling neoprene finish which looks a little bit like suede. It’s weird, but I don’t hate it.

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 Tiggo 8’s cabin is enormous and has had various upgrades since the combustion car launched that make it both easier and less easy to use.

For example, the centre console redesign is more contemporary, offering pride of place to the wireless phone charging bay, offering two larger bottle holders off to one side. Some key driver functions appear on the right-hand side, including a drive mode selector dial and a handful of shortcuts for the most basic climate functions, like an auto AC button and front and rear defoggers.

This means the shifter has moved to the column on the right-hand side, with a multifunction stalk for the indicators and wipers on the left instead.

The armrest console box is an overcomplicated split opening design, but offers plenty of room inside. There are two large bottle holders and pockets in each front door, too, and there’s a large pass-through area underneath the bridge-style console which will be great for a handbag or something.

The seating position is quite adjustable, but you sit unusually high in the car, which makes it feel as though you’re peering down on the instruments.

As already mentioned, the full array of climate functions can only be controlled through the touchscreen, with no physical buttons outside of the handful on the centre console. Would it be so hard just to have a temperature and fan speed dial you don’t have to take your eyes off the road?

The software itself is typical of many Chinese cars at the moment. It looks good, but isn’t as functional or easy to use as you’d like. Some core functions are still buried in confusingly labelled sub-menus, particularly things like active safety features. It’s not the worst I’ve used (the Leapmotor C10 springs to mind), but it should be better given the massive screen is such a focal point of the cabin.

At least the Tiggo 8 doesn’t feel cheap in other areas, with generous soft-touch materials throughout the cabin. It might be fake leather and suede, but it does a good enough job of making the cabin feel plush and comfortable for longer journeys.

The second row is impressive. I had leagues of room in all dimensions behind my front seat position at 182cm tall. The generous amount of soft trims continue and the seat bases are comfortable enough, too. Storage comes in the form of seat-back pockets and large bottle holders in each door.

Maybe the most impressive feature is the third row. While I felt squashed into the rear row of the Mitsubishi Outlander, the Tiggo 8 offers just enough space for an adult to travel in some form of comfort. Access isn’t the easiest, but there’s so much space in the second row the the seat can slide forward to allow sufficient room for my legs. My head touches the roof, however.

There’s not much in the way of amenities back there, with a bottle holder and storage tray for third-row occupants, as well as a 12-volt outlet in the boot.

The boot itself seems large enough, although at the time of writing there was no official boot figure. For context, the combustion version offers 479 litres with the third row down, or 117 litres with it up, and this plug-in doesn’t seem significantly different to my eye.

Unfortunately though, the placement of the battery and DC inverter under the boot floor leaves no room for a spare. There’s only an inflator 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.

Chery’s Super Hybrid system is a little different from other plug-ins on the market. It pairs a 1.5-litre four-cylinder turbocharged engine (105kW/215Nm) with a ‘dedicated hybrid transmission’ (DHT). This is a transaxle which contains a large electric motor (150kW/310Nm) and uses a set of clutches and gears to blend the power sources.

The end result of this is a drivetrain that feels a bit like a CVT but isn’t the much derided rubber-band-on-a-cone set-up. To Chery’s credit, it almost feels like driving an electric vehicle, such is the relatively smooth power delivery and seamless blending of the power sources depending on speed.

Just don’t expect to tow much more than a tinny as capacity is limited to just 750kg.

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 Tiggo 8 has a headline electric driving range of 95km, although this is rated to the more lenient NEDC cycle. Usually you can expect more like 75km in the real world, but these plug-ins tend to vary greatly from their official figures for better or worse, so stay tuned for a longer test to see what the real-world figure is.

Regardless, it draws this range from a 18.3kWh battery pack, that is capable of charging up on both DC and AC, which is rare for a plug-in. On the faster DC chargers, it is capable of topping up at a maximum rate of 40kW for a claimed 30 to 80 per cent charge in 20 minutes. Combined range, using a full tank of fuel and full charge can have the vehicle travel up to a claimed 1200km.

The overall fuel efficiency is 1.3L/100km, a somewhat useless figure. The actual figure will depend entirely on how you use the car. Have a short commute and charge at least at one end of it? It may as well be zero.

What’s particularly clever though is how Chery has put significant work into the software map of the hybrid transmission to keep it as efficient as possible, even when the battery is drained. 

The vehicles we tested on the launch were all hovering around the mid-5.0L/100km mark, even with the batteries long drained to their reserve level. The brand’s engineering people say the software map is specifically designed to achieve less than 6.0L/100km even when the battery is dead.

Again, not every plug-in hybrid can claim the same.

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.

The Tiggo 8 leans into the traits on display in the smaller Tiggo 7. This means a too-high seating position trading driver ergonomics for visibility, a vague steering tune defined far too much by software, and an overly soft ride quality.

There are various trade-offs here, but it’s about the opposite of a driver’s car. The steering lends hardly any feel to what’s going on at the wheels, and the floaty ride conspires with the tall seat base to feel a bit disconcerting when cornering at high speed.

However, the positives include ease of use and relative comfort. The steering is light enough to make the Tiggo 8 pretty manoeuvrable at low speeds, and the soft ride has the Tiggo 8 floating over road imperfections with relative ease.

It’s also quick, with the electric motor providing urgent acceleration, but this is somehow not very engaging or fun regardless. Plus, slamming the accelerator down, particularly in Sport mode, will overwhelm the front tyres.

This car maintains over 20 per cent of its total battery capacity in reserve, in order to have a large buffer to draw from in hybrid mode to facilitate the smooth electric driving, but this also allows more room to store regenerated energy from idle time or braking compared to a plugless hybrid.

It seems to drive as an EV most of the time, although it lacks a true one-pedal driving mode despite having three levels of regenerative braking.

The cabin is impressively quiet, particularly at lower speeds. It’s genuinely hard to tell when the combustion engine is on to assist the electric driving functions, and the standard acoustic glass keeps most of the nasty ambient noise out. However, at speeds above 80km/h, road noise eventually finds its way into the cabin.

There are many rivals that provide an overall better balance of driving dynamics and handling with comfort, but this Tiggo 8 shoots for a more comfort-oriented family buyer who just wants a quiet and fuel-efficient SUV.

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.

The Tiggo 8 Super Hybrid is covered by seven years and unlimited kilometres of warranty, seven years of roadside assist, and seven years of capped-price servicing, following the successful formula of once-underdog Kia.

The servicing price varies year on year according to the capped-price schedule, between $299 and a particularly expensive service at the 90,000km mark which costs $1291.31.

The average yearly cost works out to $453.45 if you keep the car for the full seven-year duration. Not the cheapest we’ve ever seen, but all things considered, it’s pretty good.

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.