Toyota Prado vs LDV D90

What's the difference?

While no doubt the hybrid would appeal to some buyers, given the limits in towing capacity and higher fuel consumption, the extra performance doesn’t really make the i-Force Max a compelling proposition for the LandCruiser/Prado. Australian buyers have made it abundantly clear they’re happy with the Prado already on sale, so it’s hard to see the hybrid having too much success here alongside the diesel engine.

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 Prado and LandCruiser largely look the same, but the 1958 we drove did have a few standout elements from a design perspective.

The most obvious are the retro round headlights of the 1958, which are meant to hark back to the original FJ Cruiser. The retro theme is helped by the round light framing the large rectangular mesh grille with ‘TOYOTA’ in big, bold letters.

Personally, I really like the round lights and think it’s a shame the Australian-bound Prado misses out, purely for the aesthetics.

Inside the cabin also feels like a throwback in time, but not to the 1950s, rather the late ‘80s and early ‘90s with the grey cloth trim. It’s a brave decision from Toyota to ditch a more modern look and feel, but, again, I really like it. It feels hard-wearing and suits the nature of the Land Cruiser in the US market, where it has to woo buyers away from Bronco and Wrangler.

One design choice of note is the US-spec version has ‘LandCruiser’ embossed on the dashboard ahead of the passenger, something else we miss out on here with our Prado.

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.

As the entry-grade variant in the US range, the LandCruiser 1958 is more utilitarian than pampering. That translates to a cabin that has plenty of usability, just like the Australian-delivered LandCruiser Prados we’re used to.

There’s nothing overtly different about the US-spec model, with good space and small item storage in the front and decent room in the second row.

The multimedia system is the same as the one used here too, which speaks to Toyota’s strength for consistency of product around the world. It means anyone driving a Toyota - whether it’s in Australia, the US or elsewhere - has a sense of familiarity immediately.

It also helps that Toyota has stuck with a large amount of physical buttons and switchgear (I counted nearly 50) in addition to the touchscreen. While other brands look to cut controls to save money at the expense of usability, Toyota is sticking with what people know and enjoy.

However, the US version of the Prado has the same riser box inside the boot, which limits its cargo capacity in the same way as it has done here. It's still a reasonable size, but the riser does eat into space and compromises practicality.

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.

This is the heart of our review, the unavailable hybrid engine, the so-called 'i-Force Max' hybrid powertrain. This is because the US market has never embraced diesel engines, which are so beloved by Prado owners in Australia, so in the search for greater efficiency, Toyota USA is leaning on hybrid technology.

The set-up in the LandCruiser combines a 2.4-litre four-cylinder turbocharged petrol engine with an electric motor in the bell housing between the engine and eight-speed automatic transmission. The combined output of this petrol-electric hybrid is 243kW of power and 630Nm of torque, which is significantly more than the 150kW/500Nm offered by the 2.8-litre turbo diesel offered in Australia.

The catch is, despite the additional power and torque, the LandCruiser is only rated to tow slightly more than 2700kg compared to the 3500kg towing capacity offered by our diesel Prado.

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.

Obviously one of the biggest reasons for offering/choosing a hybrid engine is fuel efficiency and on that front the LandCruiser runs into the classic problem of big car, small engine. The official combined urban/highway fuel economy figure for the hybrid is 10.2L/100km, which is well behind the official claim for the diesel-powered Prado of just 7.6L/100km.

Drilling in deeper, the LandCruiser hybrid can drop as low as 9.4L/100km on the highway but rises to 10.6L/100km in a purely urban environment, which is typically the opposite to how hybrids excel.

The other major difference between the LandCruiser and our Prado is the size of the fuel tank. The US model only gets a 67-litre tank compared to the 110L offered in Australian models. That, naturally, has a major impact on range, with the LandCruiser hybrid only able to go a theoretical 656km on a single tank, compared to nearly 1300km for the Prado diesel.

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.

While it may be a hybrid, the LandCruiser is no urban ‘show pony’ and Toyota USA is adamant that it is tough enough to live up to the reputation of its famous nameplate. It’s built on the same TNGA-F platform as our Prado - as well as the Tundra pick-up and others - so it has the foundations for rugged adventure.

It comes standard with locking centre and rear differentials, rear coil springs, full-time four-wheel drive, a two-speed transfer case, ‘CRAWL Control’, a 2400W AC inverter and standard trailer brake controller, which are all must-haves for anyone planning a serious off-road trip.

While we have little reason to doubt the off-road ability of the LandCruiser, our test drive was limited to the urban jungle of Los Angeles, which allowed us to really focus on the powertrain.

Not surprisingly, given its similarities with other Toyota hybrid set-ups, it felt very familiar, albeit in a very different vehicle than the RAV4 and Camry we’ve driven previously. Despite its big on-paper numbers, there was some noticeable lag on initial acceleration and the engine sounds like a modern four-cylinder - a bit gruff when revved hard.

It certainly has enough performance to pull the LandCruiser along, but it isn’t over-endowed with power and torque. At least not in the way its stats suggest.

For the most part, around town, it did a good job of quietly motivating the big SUV around with a minimum of fuss.

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.

One big plus for the LandCruiser over the Prado is Toyota USA offers two years of free servicing - a nice bonus.

It does have different warranty coverage for different components though, the overall vehicle warranty covers the first three years, the powertrain is covered for five years but the hybrid components are warranted for 10 years.

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.