LDV D90 vs Lexus LX570

What's the difference?

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 Lexus is awkwardly big and not very fleet of foot when you're negotiating the commute to work, school or the shops. It slurps fuel at a rate we're not used to seeing these days and it's not the easiest to park, even with all of its cameras and beepers.

The LX is far more at home out on the highway, where it is incredibly comfortable and quiet. One imagines the diesel entry-level model would do it all, but with less consumption. If you must have a V8, the LX 570 without the S might be even more comfortable without the sports dampers.

Either way, it's a lot of car for the suburbs.

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 LX came in for a facelift in 2021, perhaps to differentiate it from its Toyota sibling and, according to the press release, “ its level of urban sophistication.” That kind of tells you where this car is going to spend all of its time, doesn’t it?

There’s the new spindle grille that dominates the nose, with some clever detailing to make it look a bit more sporty and dramatic. Around the car there are modified bumpers, skirts, new wheel designs, all that kind of thing. It does look sportier, but there’s no way to hide the visual bulk of such a big unit.

The interior is largely unchanged and the ruggedness is softened somewhat by semi-anline leather trim and alloy sports pedals. It’s terribly conventional and very usable, but there’s none of the excitement or innovation you'll find in other, more recent Lexus cabins.

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.

Hellooo?! I think there’s an echo in here. This is one giant car, with eight seats available for the keen or foolhardy to squeeze themselves into. If you’ve got all eight deployed, the boot space starts at a reasonable 349 litres. Kick out the three in the back row and flip them up to the sides of the boot and you have 710 litres, although that figure is slightly down on what it could be as the seats don’t stow neatly away under the floor.

Getting the third-row passengers out is a bit of a chore, because the middle row needs a hefty shove to move, while folding the third row jump seats is a power-assisted affair. The middle-seat passenger in the third row is hugely unlikely to be comfortable no matter their size, but the headroom is good anywhere you choose to sit, and the second row has heaps of legroom.

Scattered throughout are cupholders - I counted seven - and you get bottle holders in the doors. All three rows should be reasonably comfortable, with vents supplying climate-controlled air to each and everyone, and the middle row has its own set of controls.

When you’re knocking on the door of $170,000, “good value” is relative. You’ll be pleased to hear, however, that the LX 570 S is properly loaded. You get 21-inch wheels, air suspension, comprehensive multi-terrain modes should you feel the need to get out amongst it, terrain cameras (with under-car view), variable steering, auto LED headlights, auto wipers, powered tailgate, reversing sensors, reversing camera, clearance sensors, sat nav, head-up display, power front seats, four-zone climate control, heated front seats, wireless phone charging, around-view cameras, sunroof, heated steering wheel, and heated outboard seats in the middle row.

The 12.3-inch screen is big but it’s the old Lexus system, controlled by the weird mixture of touchpad and four-way rocker switch. It’s never been a satisfactory control method and the system itself is a little cumbersome, lacking Apple CarPlay and Android Auto.

The kids in the back should be sorted, though, with an 11.6-inch HDMI-input screen on the back of each front seat, and a set of supplied headphones so that, once the kids are plugged in, you can enjoy the 19-speaker Mark Levinson stereo in peace.

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 5.7-litre petrol V8 is classic Toyota/Lexus, unstressed and unhurried, with 270Kw and 530Nm. All of this is harnessed to an eight-speed automatic and an extremely capable off-road setup that almost nobody who buys this car will ever use.

The LX 570 S will tow up to 3500kg braked and 750kg braked.

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 official combined cycle figure of 14.4L/100km is fairly sobering but the real world is even more so - my time with the LX 570 S yielded an indicated 18.5L/100km, which was not unexpected given I spent a lot of time in urban and suburban driving. I don’t think that figure will come as a surprise to any owner of a 2600kg-plus petrol V8-powered four-wheel drive.

The LX 570 S has twin petrol tanks (93 and 45 litres) for a whopping 138-litre capacity to swallow 95 RON fuel, which, on my figures should deliver 745km between fills.

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.

First, some key figures - the LX 570 S is 5.08 metres long, 1.98 metres wide and 1.87 metres tall, depending on the height you’ve set the air suspension. It is Quite Large. Yes, cars like the Mazda CX-9 are as long and the Hyundai Palisade is nearly as tall, but given the LX’s humble origins, it just feels really, really big, and it looks it, too.

That feeling is not helped by oddly heavy and slow steering. The latter quality is a result of its off-roading abilities, but you can’t help but wonder if the variable-ratio steering couldn’t be made a bit quicker for town use. The S in the 570 S also adds sportier dampers front and rear, which do the ride quality few favours. Smooth roads are fine, of course, but concrete roads induce a weird porpoising movement that some air-suspended Land Rovers get, and it’s not particularly pleasant, although if you don’t use one of those roads, you won’t notice.

It's obviously a tricky machine to park and get around tight inner-city back streets. Our narrow suburban street posed a challenge when turning in and out of our narrow driveway with cars parked either side. And I did wonder about the strength of our driveway, given the heft of the LX.

I'm not going to pretend I enjoyed driving the LX, but it’s not bad to drive. You’re always aware of the sheer size and weight of the thing, though, as well as the conspicuous consumption of the very smooth and very agreeable V8. The engine does its best to shift the huge weight and the transmission is beautifully calibrated.

Once you’re on a motorway, progress is quite regal, too, so trips away in the LX will be supremely comfortable, even if you hit the busted-up dirt roads I accidentally ended up on. 

The LX has 10 airbags, ABS, stability and traction control, forward AEB (with pedestrian detection), auto high-beam, lane-departure warning, blind-spot monitoring, rear cross traffic alert and trailer-sway control.

The LX does not have an ANCAP safety rating. Its LandCruiser twin was last tested in 2011, so that’s not exactly relevant, given the huge rule changes and improvements in safety equipment since then.

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.

Lexus offers what I think is a unique four-year/100,000km warranty along with four years' roadside assist.

Capped-price servicing weighs in at $495 per service, almost $3000 over six services, and you'll be back at the dealer every six months or 10,000km before leaving with a loan car. Or the dealer will come and fetch the car from you and then return it freshly cleaned. Nice.

LX owners also get access to Lexus Encore Platinum . This generous program includes Lexus on Demand (you can book another Lexus - such as an LS or an RC F if you’re feeling racy - four times per year at some airports or dealers) and eight valet parking vouchers for some Westfields and Chadstone in Melbourne, all booked through the Encore app. There’s also a bunch of benefits inherited from the standard Encore program.