Jeep Cherokee vs Lamborghini Aventador

What's the difference?

The Cherokee is perhaps not going to tempt anyone set on a mainstream mid-size family SUV. But, to those on the periphery who are genuinely looking for something different, there’s a lot on offer here.

The proposition is boosted by the Cherokee’s unique off-road equipment and compelling price tag, but just keep in mind it’s old-fashioned in more than just one way…

The Aventador isn't the best car you can buy for the money and truth be told, it isn't the best Lamborghini, which is a bit tough when you remember the only other car they make at the moment is the V10 Huracan. But it's all about the theatre as much as being a very capable supercar. 

I'm not a Lamborghini fanboy, but I completely get the Aventador. It's a because-we-can car, just like the Murcielago, Diablo and Countach before it. But unlike those cars, it's thoroughly modern and with the upgrades introduced to the S, it's faster, harder and enormously entertaining. 

As the last of a dying breed it delivers on everything a Lamborghini should - amazing looks, nutty price tag and an engine that excites not just driver and passenger but anyone with a heartbeat. It's by far the most charismatic car you can buy, no matter how many zeroes are on the cheque.

Photography by Rhys Vanderside

Part of me wants to like the Cherokee. It’s a refreshingly modern take on the mid-size formula from Jeep. There’s another part of me which thinks it’s a bit soft around the edges with a little too much influence from the likes of the last-generation RAV4, especially around the rear. A smaller, heavily opinionated, part of me says it looks like the kind of car the Hamburgler would drive.

But you can’t deny the black paint with black and grey highlights looks tough. The raised plastic bumpers, small wheels, and red powder-coated recovery hooks speak to this SUV’s off-road ambition. And the package is nicely rounded out with LED light fittings front and rear which cut nice angles around this car’s edges.

Inside is still very… American, but this has been toned down significantly from past Jeep offerings. There are almost no truly awful plastics now, with an abundance of soft-touch surfaces and nicer interaction points.

The wheel is still chunky and leather-clad though, and the multimedia screen is an impressive and bright unit taking centre stage in the dash.

My main complaint with the cabin is the chunky A-pillar which eats a bit of your peripheral vision, but otherwise it’s a plush design.

Asking if there's anything interesting about a Lamborghini design is kind of like asking if the sun is warm.

While there are some geese out there in the corners of the internet who think Audi has ruined Lamborghini styling, there is absolutely nothing shy about the Aventador. It's an incredible looking machine and, if I may say so, shouldn't be had in black because you miss a lot of the madder details.

This car is all about the experience.

It might look close to the deck in the photos, but however low you think it is, it's lower. The roofline barely makes it to the bottom of a Mazda CX-5's windows - you need your wits about you in this car because people just don't see you.

It is absolutely spectacular - people stop and point, one chap sprinted an easy 200 metres to take a photo of it in the Sydney CBD. Hello, if you're reading.

Inside is pretty tight indeed. It's amazing to think that a car 4.8 metres long (a Hyundai Santa Fe is 4.7 metres) struggles to contain two people over six feet tall. My six foot two photographer's head left an impression in the headlining. It's a tiny cabin. It's not a bad one though, it even has a cupholder on the rear bulkhead behind the seats.

The centre console is covered in Audi-based switchgear and is all the better for it, even if it is starting to look a bit old (those bits are from a pre-facelift B8 A4). The alloy gearshift paddles are fixed to the column and are brilliant to look at and touch, while the digital dashboard - which changes with the driving mode - is fantastic even if the reversing camera is awful.

The plushness makes for a comfortable environment, particularly for front passengers who benefit (in this case) from power adjustable seats, telescopically adjustable steering column and faux-leather trimmed padded surfaces pretty much everywhere.

There are small bottle holders in the doors, big bottle holders in the centre console, a large armrest box, and a small trench in front of the transmission stick. Sadly the Cherokee seems to miss out on the secret compartment under the seat base which the smaller Compass gets.

Back seat occupants get a decent, but not impressive, amount of space. I’m 182cm tall and had a small amount of airspace for my knees and head. There are small bottle holders in the doors, pockets on the back of both front seats, a set of movable air vents and USB ports on the back of the centre console, plus large bottle holders in the drop-down armrest.

Seat trim all-around has to be commended for being ultra-soft and comfortable, albeit not super supportive.

The second row is on rails, allowing you to max out boot space if need be.

Speaking of boot space, it’s a tough one to compare to other models because Jeep is insistent on using the SAE standard rather than the VDA standard (as one is more or less a liquid measurement, and the other is one made up of cubes, they are impossible to convert). Regardless, the Cherokee managed to consume all three items in our luggage set with ease, so it at very least has a competitive standard boot capacity.

The floor in our Trailhawk was carpeted, and a luggage cover comes standard. Worth noting is how high the boot floor is off the ground. This limits the space available, but is required for the full-size spare hidden under the floor, a must for long-distance drivers.

Yes, well. There's not a lot of space because a V12 is not just big all on its own, all the ancillaries to support it rob a lot of the remaining space. Having said that, there's room in the front for soft bags with a 180-litre front boot, space for two people inside, a cupholder and a glove box.

And the doors open up into the sky rather than out like a normal car's. Who cares if it's impractical, it's hardly something that's going to stop someone buying one.

As with any Italian supercar, the price-to-feature ratio is rather higher than your average humdrum hatchback. A 'naked' Aventador S starts at a horse-spooking $789,425 and basically has no direct competition. Ferrari's F12 is front-mid engined and any other V12 is either a decidedly different Rolls Royce-type machine or super-expensive niche manufacturer (yes, niche compared to Lamborghini) like Pagani. They're a rare very breed, Lambo knows it, and here we are a sneeze-on-the-spec sheet away from $800,000.

So you have to keep two things in mind when rating a car's value for money at this level. The first is that there isn't any real rival in a pure sense, and if there was, it would be the same price and have the same spec. That's not excusing it, by the way, it's an explanation.

Anyway.

For your eight hundy you get 20-inch front wheels and 21-inch rears, climate control, cruise control, 7.0-inch screen (backed by an older version of Audi's MMI), four-speaker stereo with Bluetooth and USB, car cover, bi-xenon headlights, carbon ceramic brakes, electric seats, windows and mirrors, leather trim, sat nav, keyless entry and start, four-wheel steering, leather trim, digital dashboard, power folding and heated mirrors, active rear wing and active suspension.

The number of out-of-the-box options is staggering and if you're keen to really get on it, you can commission your own options when it comes to trim and paint and wheels. Let's just say that as far as the interior went, our car had almost $29,000 of Alcantara, steering wheel and yellow. The telemetry system, heated seats, some extra branding and front and reversing camera (uh-huh) added up to $24,000, the cameras almost half that total.

With all the bits and bobs, the test car we had was a sobering $910,825 before on-roads.

The Cherokee shows its star-spangled heritage here with a rather old-school drivetrain.

Under the bonnet is a 3.2-litre ‘Pentastar’ non-turbo V6. It produces 200kW/315Nm which you might note isn’t much more than a lot of turbocharged 2.0-litre alternatives these days.

If you were hoping for a diesel as a more attractive option for long-distance travel, tough luck, the Trailhawk is V6 petrol only.

The engine is perhaps at odds with the modern nine-speed torque converter automatic transmission, and the Trailhawk is one of the few front-biased, non-ladder chassis-based vehicles to have a low-range crawl gear and locking rear differential.

The Trailhawk drives all four wheels.

The Aventador S is powered by Automobili Lamborghini's 6.5-litre V12. You know it's a V12 because there's a plate on top of the engine (which you can see through the optional glass cover) that says so, and handily, tells you the cylinder firing order. That's a neat touch.

Buried deep in the middle of the car, this monster engine develops an astonishing 544kW (30kW up on the standard Aventador) and 690Nm. Its dry sump means the engine sits lower in the car. The gearbox is slung across the back between the rear wheels - the rear pushrod suspension actually sits on top of and across the gearbox - and is apparently brand new.

The transmission is known as an ISR (Independent Shift Rod) and has seven forward speeds and still just the one clutch. Power goes through all four wheels to the road, but it's clear the rears get the lion's share.

The 0-100km/h time is the same as the standard car, which kind of tells you that 2.9 seconds is about as quick as you can go on road tyres when you don't have four electric motors with torque from zero rpm.

In the spirit of keeping the hard-done-by fuel conglomerates in business, this V6 is as thirsty as it sounds. This is compounded by the fact that the Trailhawk weighs in at close to two tonnes.

The official claimed/combined figure is already not great at 10.2L/100km, but our week-long test produced a figure of 12.0L/100km. Not a good look when many of the Cherokee’s mid-size competitors are at least in the single-digit range, even in real-world testing.

In a small concession, you’ll be able to fill up (annoyingly frequently) with entry-level 91RON unleaded. The Cherokee has a 60L fuel tank.

Hilariously, the official figure is 16.9L/100km. I doubled it without trying. Simple as that. If you're buying this car thinking it will be easy on the juice, you're insane.

Cheeringly, Lambo has at least tried, the V12 going silent when you sit at the lights, the best thing being the way it bursts back into life when you lift off the brake.

If you have the time available, it takes 90 litres of premium unleaded to fill the tank.

The Cherokee drives pretty much exactly how it looks, soft and ‘murican.

As thirsty as the V6 might be, it’s fun in a kind of retro way to be behind the wheel. It makes lots of angry noises and flies up the rev range (into fuel-drinkin’ town) all too easily, although despite that you might notice you’re not going particularly fast the whole time.

This is largely down to the Cherokee’s overbearing weight. Not great for fuel usage, it does have benefits for comfort and refinement.

On tarmac, and even gravel surfaces, the interior is impressively quiet. There’s little road noise or suspension rattle, and even the fury of the V6 is more of a distant thrum.

Gravity takes its toll in the corners, where the Cherokee hardly feels like a confident apex carver. The steering is light though, and the long-travel suspension is soft and forgiving. This makes for a refreshing SUV experience which places the focus solely on comfort over sportiness.

It’s also a nice point of difference from many mainstream competitors which seem hell-bent on making mid-size family SUVs handle like sports sedans or hatchbacks.

A test of the off-road features was a little outside the scope of our regular weekly test, although a thrashing down a few gravel tracks only served to confirm my confidence in the comfort suspension tune and stability of the standard all-wheel drive mode on offer.

In Strada or Street mode, awful. Everything is slow and doughy, particularly the gearshift which goes looking for a gear like dog looking for a stick you didn't throw, but instead hid behind your back. The low-speed ride is nothing less than terrible, fidgeting over every single lump and bump and is only slightly more appealing than being dragged along behind.

The gearbox is really the worst bit about it. Automotive history is littered with cars that laboured along with a single clutch semi-auto: Alfa Romeo 156, BMW's E60 M5 and today the Citroen Cactus is stuck with just such a dud transmission.

Like that old M5, however, there's a trick to making the gearbox work for you - show absolutely no mercy.

Switch the selector up to Sport, get off the highway or major arterial road and head for the hills. Or better still, a clear race track. Then the Aventador goes from a pain in the rear to a glorious, roaring, completely unhinged and unhinging battle cruiser. This car is all about the experience, from the second you lay eyes on it to the moment you put it to bed.

This isn't an everyday supercar and it's absurd to think Lamborghini thinks it is.

First up, there's the obvious entry point with those wacky doors. While it's tricky to get in, if you're under six feet and reasonably mobile, stick your backside in, keep your head down and you're in. If you've been clever, you've specified the glass engine cover so you can see out the back but the huge wing mirrors are surprisingly effective.

Has someone thoughtlessly parked the car in a tight spot? No trouble, the four wheel steer makes the car absurdly manoeuvrable given its extravagant length and width.

As we've already established, it's not much fun at low speeds, waiting until about 70km/h before things start to make a bit more sense. This isn't an everyday supercar and it's absurd to think Lamborghini thinks it is. It just isn't.

The old Aventador was not the most capable of machines but made up for it with its overall belligerence. The new S takes that aggro and dials it up. When you move the drive mode to Sport you are basically unleashing hell. You can pretend to be super-masculine and switch to Corsa (race) mode, but it's all about getting the car straight and getting you around the track in the most efficient way possible. Sport is where it's at if you want to have fun.

The Aventador is about being seen, but not before you've been heard - from two postcodes away. It really is utterly glorious when you have a stretch of road to yourself. The V12 revs furiously to its 8400rpm redline and the wallop of the upshift is accompanied with a fantastic bark and a burst of blue flame. And these aren't the best bits.

Approach a corner, stomp on the colossal carbon ceramic brakes and the exhaust erupts in a combination of bangs and pops and growls that puts a smile on even the most hardened car-hater's face. The fact it steers into corners with just a demure roll of the wrist, aided and abetted by that funky four-wheel steering system. It's just brilliant, addictive and truth be told, it gets under your skin.

The Aventador doesn't have an ANCAP safety rating but the carbon chassis also comes with four airbags, ABS, stability and traction controls.

Jeep has upped its ownership promise in the past few years with what it calls the “there and back guarantee”. This consists of a five-year/100,000km warranty and matching capped price service program.

It’s a shame the warranty is distance-limited, but time-wise is on par with Japanese makers. While the capped price service program is welcome, it's almost twice as expensive as an equivalent RAV4.

According to Jeep’s online calculator, services varied from $495 to $620 on this particular variant.

Roadside assist is offered beyond the warranty period provided you continue to service your vehicle at an authorized Jeep dealership.

In an unexpected twist, you'll get a three-year/100,000km warranty and the option to increase to four years ($11,600!) or five years ($22,200!)(!). Having recovered from typing that, given the cost of something going wrong, that's probably money well-spent.