Suzuki Fronx vs LDV D90

What's the difference?

If you’re considering a small car, particularly if an SUV is the goal, a Suzuki should in most cases be on the shopping list. Back-to-basics motoring is key to the brand’s identity. Its most popular model is a tiny ladder-frame 4X4, for example. Hi Jimny.

The Fronx doesn’t break new ground in any practical sense, but it does come in with a decent price and list of features that should sway plenty of small-car fans in the showroom.

It’s decent to look at, comfortable for the segment, and easy to get used to and drive. The numerical rating on this review betrays just how likeable the car is.

It’s not extremely refined and it starts to lose its dynamic shine on rough roads, but in an urban setting the Fronx should excel.

Note: CarsGuide attended this event as a guest of the manufacturer, with 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.

‘Fronx’ as a name doesn’t exactly scream ‘cute’, but the little SUV has a pretty classically Suzuki design. This is not a complaint at all.

The Fronx is 3995mm long, 1765mm wide and 1550mm tall, but despite its diminutive dimensions the brand has opted to lean into a ‘coupe’ style with a sloping roofline that creates a relatively sporty look, especially for something with a two-digit power figure.

So while some of Suzuki’s designs have been divisive in Australia (Ignis, anyone?) the Fronx takes a slightly more conservative approach by leaning into more design trends than just the coupe-back SUV shape. 

For example, its tail-lights span the width of the tailgate rather than simply flanking the boot as was standard for decades.

The LED daytime running lights at the front are also arranged in a slim, high-up position with a set of headlights below.

Inside is arguably more conservative than out, as the Fronx goes with a fairly standard formula in terms of its layout, with few premium materials (the synthetic leather on the seats feels cheap for example) or adventurous design elements to be found.

But that’s not such a bad thing.

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.

Because for all the conservative, even outdated, styling in the cabin, the fact is it’ll be refreshingly familiar to someone who’s getting out of a car from perhaps even before the year 2000.

Suzuki’s place at the budget end of the new-car market means its customers are likely either quite young and buying their first new car, or relatively old and looking for a cheap, rarely used runabout as the ‘last car’.

For the former, a lack of techy distractions is paramount. For the latter, ease of use wins over cutting-edge tech in most cases. Which is why it’s probably okay that the Fronx’s multimedia touchscreen and software wouldn’t feel out of place almost a decade ago.

It can be a tad fiddly to use at speed, but it’s still more straightforward than the ‘iPad-like’ systems Tesla has made popular, and there are physical controls for important functions like climate control.

There’s also a row of ever-present haptic buttons for volume controls and navigation shortcuts.

The ergonomics of the interior are quite basic, but there are no red flags in terms of visibility, reach, or placement. 

The head-up display is a bonus, but the physical dials on the dash rather than a digital driver display are clear enough, despite again feeling nabbed from a time before head-up displays even existed. 

Space for the front passengers is decent, it’s not cavernous but it’s far from cramped. Elbow rests and seating positions allow for a relaxed ride.

The back seat is a slightly less comfortable place, but at 178cm I can sit behind my own seating position without my knees touching the seat in front, and my head has just enough space above to accommodate the top of a mullet.

Behind that, luggage capacity in the boot is 304 litres, or 605 litres with the rear 60/40 split seats folded.

There’s also no space-saver spare tyre, just a repair kit as standard.

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.

The Fronx is powered by a 1.5-litre four-cylinder engine with mild-hybrid assistance, driving the front wheels via a six-speed automatic transmission. 

Its outputs are quoted at 76kW and 137Nm, not exactly high-grade stuff and part of the reason the Fronx feels like it takes more than 10 seconds to hit 100km/h.

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.

Suzuki claims fuel consumption at 4.9L/100km. With its 37-litre fuel tank, the Fronx should be able to manage more than 600km on a single tank, though theoretically its maximum range given its claimed fuel efficiency is 755km.

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.

How you plan to use the Fronx will make a big difference in whether what you’re about to read is a good thing or not. 

The Fronx is a light SUV for a start, so expecting brilliant handling, effortless acceleration and a dead-quiet cabin is going to mean you’re disappointed.

But if you want something easy, engaging and fun, the Fronx might work for you.

Our brief test loop wasn’t entirely indicative of what the Fronx is likely to face day-to-day. With limited time and no preset drive program, the roads within a 20-or-so minute drive of Nagambie, Victoria had to suffice.

The Fronx fared well on the average road, it turned out, with the 1064kg Suzuki managing to feel planted enough to hurl along 100km/h back-roads without complaints. It rides on the same platform used recently by the Suzuki Baleno, something I’ll admit to not having driven.

The rougher roads didn’t faze the light SUV too much, though consistently uneven surfaces made it feel unsettled in some cornering.

Its steering and suspension give enough feedback to make the right inputs easily, though the nature of its light weight and minimal accoutrement in terms of driver assistance make the Fronx feel very rudimentary from the driver’s seat.

At low speeds around the centre of town, the Fronx manages the state’s terrible roads well, though taking off from intersections can be laborious. Much like overtaking, the drivetrain will complain.

And don’t expect its mild hybrid system to do a lot in the way of hard work - or any work at all, really. You could take the hybrid badge off the car, let someone have a drive, and they’d be none the wiser.

From the limited observations on the launch, the Fronx would feel best at home in suburbia or a metropolitan centre more so than on the Hume Highway or the towns dotted alongside it.

Essentially, this is not a refined road trip car for the highway, but its no-fuss approach to getting around means you shouldn’t be surprised if you start seeing them in the car parks at universities or bowls clubs.

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.

Suzuki has a five-year, unlimited kilometre warranty for its new cars, which is a little behind the curve compared to many budget-friendly brands these days. 

Suzuki does have a five-year servicing schedule, with intervals every 12 months or 15,000km, whichever comes first. Total cost is $2005 over the five years, with services averaging $401, which is not particularly cheap.

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.