LDV Terron 9 vs Chevrolet Camaro

What's the difference?

There’s no doubt that the current crop of Chinese utes are better than previous versions. Similarly, there’s little doubt that private buyers are having a big say in which way the market is headed, particularly when it comes to alternatives to the Thai-built legacy players. And that’s precisely where the Terron 9 plays its best game. The value for money is hard to argue with, and the sheer size of the thing gives it an extra dimension if that’s what you think you need in a dual-cab. While we have no quarrel with the driveline of the Terron 9, it will be nice when somebody finally adds an on-bitumen four-wheel-drive mode to one of these in this price range. Until then, the Terron 9 can’t be criticised for this omission. In the meantime, the Terron 9 exhibits quite a bit of refinement in the way both the engine and transmission work together. Our biggest complaint is the way the driver-assistance systems have been calibrated. The driver-distraction warning is almost comical (for the first five minutes, anyway) in its zeal, and the lane-keeping assistance program is bordering on scary in the wrong circumstances. Again, LDV is not alone in this regard, but as a clean-sheet design, sketched up in a driver-assisted world, perhaps we were expecting a little more from this ute.

The Camaro 2SS is a real-life Hot Wheels car. This beast looks amazing, sounds incredible and is not overpowered, making it usable as a daily driver.

Now about that score. The Camaro 2SS lost big marks for not having AEB, lost more marks for the short warranty and no capped-price servicing and also some for its price, because compared to the Mustang it’s expensive. It’s also impractical (space and storage could be better) and uncomfortable to drive at times, but this is a muscle car, and a great one at that. It's not for everybody, but  truly perfect for some.

While the Terron 9 remains a ladder-chassis design with the body plonked on top (just like traditional four-wheel drives and most other dual-cabs) there is one important departure in design terms. And it’s one that rules out a whole sub-class of this type of vehicle.

Because the body sides are one piece in the Terron, with no gap between the rear bulkhead and the tray, there’s no way to turn the thing into a cab-chassis with a drop-side tray or service body. Yes, you can add a canopy to the existing design (LDV is working on its accessory line-up for the Terron right now) but there’s no cab-chassis variant now or in the works.

That might seem a bit odd, but when you consider the vast majority of dual-cabs are, in fact, styleside utes, maybe the sales hit won’t be a huge one. That’s especially so when you consider many of the Chinese utes rely on private buyers, not fleet customers, for their sales volumes. And in any case, says LDV, the way the body is constructed allows for a little more rear seat legroom and a touch more cargo space length for the same overall length. Which the company believes is a trade-off worth sticking with.

There’s also been a clear brief for the Terron 9 to make a visual statement. While it’s dimensions put it somewhere between the mainstream dual-cabs and the full-sized American pick-ups we see, the styling definitely leans towards the latter. The grille is huge, the vertical tail-lights very Stateside and the whole thing looks imposing. I’ll personally draw the line at attractive, but it’s definitely imposing.

The most adventurous piece of interior design must be the electronic door handles which need just a simple press to open the doors. There’s a manual, cable-operated door opener hidden in each door pocket if things go wrong electrically at some stage.

As was the case with Ford’s Mustang, something seemed to go bizarrely weird in the styling of the Camaro in the early 2000s, but by 2005 the arrival of the fifth generation saw a design that re-imagined the original (and I reckon the best) 1967 Camaro. Now this sixth-generation car is a sharper resolution of that, yet not without causing a bit of controversy.

Along with styling changes, such as redesigned LED headlights and taillights, the front fascia was also given a tweak, which involved repositioning the Chevy ‘bow-tie’ badge from the upper grille to the black-painted cross bar that separates the top and bottom sections. The reaction from fans was enough for Chevrolet to quickly redesign the front and move the badge back.

Our test car was the version with the ‘unpopular’ face, but I reckon it gets away with the look, thanks to the body colour being black, which means your eye isn’t drawn to that cross bar.

Here’s some pub ammo for you – Chevy calls the ‘bow tie’ on this Camaro a ‘Flow Tie’ because its hollow construction means air can pass through it to the radiator.

Big on the outside but small inside, the Camaro’s dimensions show it to be 4784mm long, 1897mm wide (not including mirrors) and 1349mm tall.

Ford’s Mustang is elegant, but Chevy’s Camaro is more macho. Big haunches, long bonnet, flared guards, nostrils. This is one mean-looking monster. Those high sides and ‘chopped’ roof design may also make you assume the cabin is more cockpit than lounge room.

That assumption would be right and in the practicality section further down I’ll tell you just how cozy the interior is, but for now we're just talking about looks.

I’m not sure what David Hasselhoff’s apartment looks like, but at a guess I reckon it would have a hell of a lot in common with the interior design of the Camaro 2SS’s cabin.

Soft, black leather seats with SS badging, giant metal air vents, door handles that look like chrome exhaust tips and a display screen that is oddly tilted towards the floor.

There’s also an ambient LED lighting system that lets you choose from 1980s-neon colour palettes, the likes of which we haven’t seen since Ken Done’s outstanding depiction of a Koala family sitting down to a barbecue lunch.

I’m not knocking it, I love it, and even though the guys in the office thought it would be hilarious to set the lighting to hot pink, I kept it that way because it looks awesome.

A longer, wider cargo bed is probably one of the Terron 9’s best party tricks. Compared with the T60, the Terron is larger in every direction and extends that lead into the tub’s dimensions where it emerges with 1230mm between the wheel arches and a cargo bed length of 1600mm (90mm more than the T60 Pro).

That’s partly all possible by the extra wheelbase which, at 3300mm, is about as big as it gets in this class of ute, although the turning circle has grown to 13.1m compared with the T60’s tighter 12.7m.

A spray-in tub liner is standard as is the spring-assisted tailgate. Pony up for the ritzier, Evolve version, and you add cargo rails atop the tub sides and cargo-bed lighting.

Inside the tray, there are four decent tie-down hooks nice and low in the tub and plastic side toppers to prevent damage to the tub’s top rail. The tailgate is a clever design that is supported by springs and struts so that it drops in a controlled way and is very light to lift back up. The latch on the top corner of the tray is odd, but the tailgate can be opened via the key fob, too.

The biggest omission in the tray is the lack of any power socket.

Inside, the cabin is wide and features a pair of cup-holders down low in the centre console, as well as a USB-A, USB-C and a 12-volt socket placed somewhat awkwardly in the centre bin. The front arm-rest looks like it should incorporate a wireless phone charger, which it doesn’t. Yet. Watch this space, is the whisper. A reach and height adjustable steering column is also a nice addition at this price-point. And, thankfully, LDV has worked out that most people don’t want to go fishing through a menu to adjust the climate control. So the Terron 9 has actual buttons on the dashboard. Hallelujah.

Side steps are standard and help you in and out of the cabin, and there are grab-handles in the right places, too. Rear seat space is generous and even the cloth trim of the entry-level version is not the cheap-and-nasty sort, even if it’s far from sporty looking.

The indicator wand is on the `wrong’ side for Australia, partly because the gear selector is a wand on the other side of the steering column. Some users will spend the first few days hitting the gear selector in error. The starter is a push button, but placed in the conventional position of a standard ignition key. Nice touch.

The Camaro 2SS’s cabin is cozy for me at 191cm tall, but even with a similarly proportioned photographer riding shotgun it wasn’t too cramped. Believe it or not, we were able to carry all his equipment and lights, plus batteries for our night shoot (have you seen the video above – it’s very good). I’ll get to the boot size in a moment.

The Camaro 2SS is a four-seater, but those rear seats are only going to suit small children. I was able to fit my four year old’s car seat into place with a bit of gentle persuasion, and while he could sit behind my wife, there was zero space behind me when I was driving. As for visibility, we’ll get to that in the driving section below, but I can tell you he couldn’t see much from his tiny porthole.

Cargo capacity of the boot is small, as you’d expect, at 257 litres, but the space is deep and long. The problem is not the volume, however, it’s the size of the opening, which means you’ll have to cleverly angle larger items to get them in, like pushing a couch through your front door. You know, houses are big, but their openings aren’t. I know, profound.

Cabin storage is also limited, the door pockets were so thin my wallet couldn’t even slide into it (no, it’s not the wads of cash), but there was just enough room in the centre console storage bin for it. There are two cupholders, which are more like elbow holders, (because this part wasn’t swapped over in the conversion and that’s where your arm lands while driving) and a glove box. Rear-seat passengers have a large tray to fight over in the back.

The 2SS doesn’t have a wireless-charging pad like the ZL1, but it does have one USB port and a 12V outlet.

You know how people talk about cars not always being a rational purchase? This is the type of vehicle they’re talking about. The Camaro 2SS lists at $86,990 and the total tested price of our car was $89,190, because it was fitted with the optional 10-speed auto for $2200.

In comparison, the V8 Ford Mustang GT with the 10-speed auto is about $66K. Why the big price difference? Well, unlike the Mustang, which is built as a right-hand-drive car in the factory for places such as Australia and the UK, the Camaro is only built as a left-hand drive. HSV puts about 100 hours into converting the Camaro from left to right-hand drive. That’s a big job and involves gutting the interior, taking out the engine, swapping the steering rack and putting it all back together again.

If you still think $89K is a lot to spend on a Camaro, then think again because the top-of-the-range hardcore race-car-for-the-road ZL1 Camaro lists for about $160K.

Those are only the two grades of Camaro in Australia – the ZL1 and 2SS. The 2SS is a higher-specified version of the 1SS sold in the US.

Standard features in the 2SS include an eight-inch screen, which uses Chevrolet’s Infotainment 3 system, a nine-speaker Bose stereo, Apple CarPlay and Android Auto, head-up display, rear-view camera and rear camera mirror, dual-zone climate control, leather seats (heated and ventilated, plus power adjustable in the front), remote start, proximity key and 20-inch alloys.

That’s a decent amount of kit and I’m particularly impressed by the head-up display, which you don’t get in the Mustang, and also with the rear-vision-mirror camera, which turns the entire mirror into an image of what’s behind the car.

While peak outputs of both the Terron 9 and its smaller stablemate T60 seem similar on paper, in actual mechanical terms, there are a few important differences.

While the T60 uses a 2.0-litre four-cylinder diesel with a pair of turbochargers, the Terron 9 is, on paper, a bit more simplified, but a lot newer in design terms. It’s a 2.5-litre unit, but reverts to a single turbocharger for a power peak of 163kW (three up on the T60, at slightly lower revs) and max torque of 520Nm (20 more). Fuel economy should be about line-ball with the T60 (more of that later).

Like the T60, the Terron 9 features an independent, coil-spring front end, but loses the T60 Plus’ coil-sprung rear axle for a leaf-sprung live axle.

The Terron 9 sticks with an eight-speed automatic transmission (although a different unit to the T60’s eight-speed unit) and also gets four-wheel drive with a low-ratio transfer case for proper off-roading. What’s missing (but nobody else at this price-point has it either) is Auto 4WD mode which allows the vehicle to be driven in four-wheel drive on bitumen surfaces. In the case of towing on a wet road, this is a huge boost to overall safety.

While the extra torque over the T60’s smaller engine seems welcome, it pays to remember that the larger Terron 9 is about 300kg heavier than its little brother. That said, the payload is a little higher at 1100kg for the Origin and 1005kg for the Evolve but with the vehicle’s full 3500kg on the tow-hitch, that payload falls to 600kg and 505kg respectively, thanks to the Terron’s 6500kg Gross Combination Mass. It’s far from alone in this regard.

Sure, the 2SS doesn’t produce the mammoth 477kW of the ZL1, but I’m not complaining about the 339kW and 617Nm it does make from its 6.2-litre V8. Besides, 455 horsepower from the 2SS’s naturally aspirated LT1 small block is plenty of fun and the sound on start-up through the bi-modal exhaust is apocalyptic - and that’s good.

Our car was fitted with the optional 10-speed auto ($2200), with paddle shifters. The automatic transmission was developed as a joint venture between General Motors and Ford and a version of this 10-speed is also found in the Mustang.

This traditional torque-converter automatic isn’t the quickest shifting thing, but it suits the big, powerful and slightly lethargic personality of the Camaro 2SS.

LDV’s official fuel consumption figure for the Terron 9 is 7.9 litres per 100km. That’s a number that you might – just might – see on a gentle highway run, but the 9.0 litres per 100km we recorded on our own test drive is probably closer to the day-to-day mark. That’s still pretty good, though and speaks of the tall gearing in the eight-speed automatic transmission.

Against the 80-litre standard fuel tank, that gives a useable range of close enough to 850km on the open road before you need to start watching the fuel gauge.

It’s also worth mentioning that the Terron 9 is Euro 5 complaint rather than meeting the tougher Euro 6 emissions targets. As such, it does not require the addition of AdBlue, representing another running cost saving.

Okay, brace yourself. During my fuel test I traveled 358.5km and used 60.44L of premium unleaded, which comes out to be 16.9L/100km. That sounds awfully high, but actually it's not as bad as it looks, considering the Camaro 2SS has a 6.2-litre V8 and I wasn't driving it in a way that would conserve fuel, if you get my drift. Half of those kilometres were on motorways at 110km/h, the other half would have been in bumper-to-bumper city traffic, which would have driven up the fuel usage, too. 

The official fuel consumption after a combination of open and urban roads is 13L/100km.

The first impression is that this is a very big vehicle. The passenger’s seat seems miles away and the bonnet is high, wide and mighty. That might not play too well off road where such a huge bonnet can hide the obstacles you’re about to fall off or drive over, but at least the forward facing camera system gives you a fighting chance. The other problem off-road is likely to be the sheer girth of the LDV where it might struggle a little for elbow room on tracks formed by smaller vehicles.

On the bitumen, the Terron 9 feels pretty relaxed with a gear for every occasion and an unstressed engine that is clearly tuned for mid-range oomph rather than top-end power. It’s smooth and relatively refined and, left to its own devices, the eight-speed automatic shifts up seamlessly.

The only complaint would be a degree of driveline shunt in the example we drove that could be both heard and felt, most notably in the transition from off-throttle to on-throttle, but also during the odd upshift. In 2025, this seems very odd indeed. We checked with LDV and they reckon this is a one-off glitch and possibly down to the car’s early build. Certainly, the second Terron 9 we sampled didn’t exhibit the same problem.

Ride quality is generally good and while the leaf-sprung rear axle can feel a little lively at times, it’s not a bad match for the front end, meaning that the car feels of a piece rather than two halves of a car fighting each other. While there is plenty of suspension movement, it also feels quite well controlled despite the obvious amount of unsprung mass. Cabin noise is commendably low, too. Thanks to tall gearing and that noise suppression, the Terron is a relaxed highway performer.

The steering is better than average for this type of vehicle with a good relationship between feel, weight and reaction speed. This is one ute than can be hustled along if it needs to be, and one on which the paddle-shifters are a meaningful inclusion (although they’re also a huge bonus when off-roading).

By far our biggest complaint is one that is far from exclusive to LDV. And that’s the (what we consider to be) poor calibration of some of the driver aids. The lane-keeping assistance is the main offender and, on a narrow road with a well-defined edge, the Terron 9 will intervene to prevent a wheel dropping onto the gravel. Unfortunately, at higher speeds, it does so with what feels like a stabbing action; violent enough to scare you the first time it happens. Could it frighten a timid or inexperienced driver into a crash? It’s a possibility we can’t ignore.

The driver-distraction warning is also, ironically, its own distraction. Take your eyes off the road for long enough to read the otherwise excellent dashboard display, and you’ll have the warning stepping in with a beeping admonishment as well as a visual warning that overrides the information you were trying to read in the first place. Again, LDV is hardly alone in this, but there’s definitely some recalibration required before the systems are as good as some of the (more expensive) competition’s equivalents.

Exactly how an American muscle car should be – loud, a bit uncomfortable, not all that easy, but a hell of a lot of fun. Those first three attributes may sound like negatives, but take it from somebody who owns and loves hot rods - it’s part of the appeal. If an SUV is not easy to drive or comfortable there's a problem, but in a muscle car it can enhance the engagement and connection factors.

That said, there will be many who think the ride is too firm, the steering heavy and that it feels like you’re staring out a letterbox slot through the windscreen. It’s all true, and there are other performance cars out there which make as much horsepower, handle better and are so easy to drive they can almost (and some do) pilot themselves, but they all lack the feeling of connection the Camaro offers.

Wide and low-profile Goodyear Eagles (245/40 ZR20 at the front and 275/35 ZR20 at the rear) provide good grip, but also feel every blemish in the road, while four-piston Brembo brakes all round pull the Camaro 2SS up well.

Acceleration from 0-100km/h isn’t disclosed by HSV or Chevrolet, but the official line is that it’ll nail it in under five seconds. Ford reckons its Mustang GT can do the same in 4.3 seconds.

If you were wondering if you could live with the Camaro daily, the answer is yes but, much like wearing leather pants, you’ll have to suffer a bit to look this rock and roll. I put 650km on the clock of our 2SS during my week with it, using it daily in peak-hour traffic into the city, in supermarket car parks, and for daycare drop offs, with country road and motorway drives on the weekend.

The seats can get uncomfortable over long distances and those low-profile ‘run-flat’ tyres and firm dampers don’t make life any comfier. You’ll also find that wherever you go people will want to race you. But don’t get sucked in; you’re slower than you look - another muscle-car trait.

Sure, it’s not the quickest performance car I’ve steered and on winding roads its handling capability is not up there with many sports cars, but that V8 is responsive and angry in Sport mode and smooth in its delivery of grunt. The exhaust note is sensational and the steering, while heavy, offers great feel and feedback. The sound isn’t electronically enhanced but it uses bi-modal valves, which open and close at different engine and exhaust loads to produce its addictive bark.

The Chevrolet Camaro 2SS doesn’t have an ANCAP rating, but it’s certain that it wouldn’t achieve the maximum five stars because it doesn’t have AEB. There is forward-collision alert which warns you of an impending impact, there’s also blind-spot warning, rear cross traffic alert and eight airbags.

For child seats (and I did put my own four-year-old in the back) there are two top-tether points and two ISOFIX mounts in the second row.

There's no spare wheel here, so you’ll have to hope you’re within 80km of home or a repair shop, because that’s how far the Goodyear ‘run-flat’ tyres will get you.

The low (ish) score is for the lack of AEB. If the Mustang can be fitted with autonomous emergency braking, then the Camaro should be, too.

The Terron 9 is covered by LDV’s rather excellent seven-year/200,000km warranty. Service intervals are every 12 months or 15,000km with the exception of the very first service which is due at 10,000km to account for the running-in oil the engine is filled with from the factory. This sounds like an extra impost, but mechanical sympathists will love this attention to detail.

LDV is looking into capped-price servicing but there’s no announcement to be made yet, nor any hint of what the price structure of that might look like if it happens.

The Camaro 2SS is covered by HSV’s three-year/100,000km warranty. Servicing is recommended at nine-month/12,000km intervals, with a complimentary inspection at the end of the first month. There is no capped-price-servicing program.