HYBRID COMPANY CAR GROUP TEST · RS6 · 718
Is there more to plug-in hybrids than a cheeky tax-dodge? Two revamped Germans attempt to overthrow Britain’s unlikely favourite
Hybrids from Volkswagen and BMW take on the class-leading Mitsubishi. Yes, you did read that right. Also, many fast cars
Odd bunch, right? Traditionally, a BMW 3-Series would lord it over driver-pleasing, junior-exec expresses like a Jaguar XE and Alfa Romeo Giulia. A Volkswagen Passat’s role in life is giving Mondeo man something to aspire to. And the Mitsubishi Outlander is the motoring equivalent of the outdoorsy hiking boots and puffer jackets sold in the middle lucky-dip aisles at Lidl. You’d like a Land Rover really, but the, erm, Outlander – though the most expensive car here – is just too much car for too little money to turn down. So, these cars are not rivals. And yet…
Throwing some plug sockets into the mix blurs the lines. These three are the front line of the plug-in hybrid family-car war. The all-new BMW 330e, substantially revised VW Passat GTE and ageing but unignorably popular Mitsubishi Outlander PHEV are vying head-on for the £40k company car market, not to mention vacuuming up sales of diesel deserters. Sales of turbodiesels slumped to just one in five of all new car sales in January 2020. The dual-engined car’s time has come, because, a 330e for argument’s sake will set you back £1,000 less in company car tax per year than a 320d. Any further questions?
“MITSUBISHI WAS BANG ON TIME WITH A LOW-CO2 HYBRID PACKAGE IN AN OF-THE-MOMENT SUV SHELL”
Indeed. What’s the range? How often will I have to plug in it? Is it so heavy my driveway (you’ve got a driveway, right? You’ll need to be plugging it in overnight) will subside? All that and more, coming up, after this.
Straight to the Mitsubishi. The oldest car here, the Outlander PHEV has been heroically keeping Mitsubishi afloat in the UK since 2013, but was boosted by brawnier e-motors and a more power-dense battery in 2018. It’s had more facelifts than Mickey Rourke, with similar results, but its dubious styling and badge haven’t stopped it becoming a phenomenon. It’s Britain’s best-selling plug-in hybrid. A few years ago, it accounted for 50 per cent of all PHEVs sold. Tempting ads scream “140mpg, 40g/km of CO2 – the world’s best-selling electrified SUV”.
Like Ford readying the Mustang for boomers, Mitsubishi was bang on time with this thing: a low-CO2 package in an of-themoment SUV shell. Even now, the likes of Audi, Land Rover and even Ford are scrambling to catch up. That’s surprising. What’s downright shocking is that this car isn’t just a tax loophole with a reversing camera. It’s… alright.
Obviously, you’re sat up high. Good vantage point. The Outlander manages to feel wieldy though – narrow and easy to place thanks to its blockiness. The steering is extremely light, so it’s untaxing to pilot through town. It’s not in the least bit sporty, which is an increasingly rare thing, but suits the Outlander’s remit. It leans ponderously in bends and the body boings about, but it stops short of being properly ungainly. Those slender, columnmounted paddles behind the big steering wheel? They’re shortcuts to adjusting the five-stage regenerative braking... because there’s no gearbox, just a CVT, which, thanks to usable electric boost, bears the car forward while the 2.4-litre naturally aspirated engine remains reasonably unflustered.
Over two commutes (west London to just north of Hertford, rush hour, single-digit ambient temperature, starting with a full electro-charge), the Outlander managed a combined 42mpg. I used my electricity tactically: battery power for the North Circular crawl, then hybrid boost once on to the freer flowing motorway. Back to the dregs of e-power for the final mile or so in town. With heated everything ablaze and aircon idling to keep the windows clear, 19 miles of e-range was forecasted. So, the as-tested numbers are in a different galaxy to the heady claims,
but I’m not convinced a diesel seven-seat SUV would’ve been dramatically more efficient escaping such logjam.
The Passat GTE is also a facelifted, fettled machine: this shape has been with us since 2015, and had the Donatella Versace treatment last autumn. Following a minor news story that occurred during the Passat’s life, VW really doubled down on the hybrid flagship for the revamp, treating the GTE to a bigger capacity 13.6kWh battery that improved electric range by 40 per cent. The official claim is 35 miles of zero-emission running, or, if you twin the 1.4-litre turbo four-pot engine’s effort with electricity (yep, the engine’s a whole litre smaller than the Mitsubishi’s) then a combined 215bhp will haul all 1,730kg from 0–62mph in a swift 7.4 seconds. The sporting GTE mode pretensions appear seductive, until you calculate the BMW is 74bhp more powerful, 70kg lighter and 1.4 seconds quicker off the mark. But the VW has an ace to play. Not as much as the BMW, but its efficiency is spectacular. In E mode, it’s not dramatically more parsimonious than the Mitsubishi, doing 2.5 miles per kWh to the SUV’s 2.3, but the bigger battery means a verifiable 30 miles on e-power, and a massive 70mpg over the same route in identical conditions.
The Passat is a very intuitive, helpful hybrid. Tug the DSG gearlever and it’ll switch instantly between D mode, which lets the car coast like it’s in a vacuum when you lift off (handy on the motorway) and B mode, which maximises regen into the battery so you slow smoothly, without touching the brakes (ideal if you’re concentrating in town). Every time you turn it on, it’ll default to E mode, so early getaways are polite to the neighbours. Asking it to be a hybrid is more convoluted than I’d like: tap the E mode button, then tap Hybrid in the touchscreen, then select where on the sliding scale you’d like battery charge to be ‘held’ – either drain the whole thing, save a little for later on, or if you want to rinse your economy,
“THE VW'S TURBO'D ENGINE IS A WHOLE LITRE SMALLER THAN THE MITSUBISHI'S”
ask the engine to charge up the battery, in the least efficient use of fossil fuels since Deepwater Horizon.
The Passat’s also impressive in its desperate attempts to run fuel-free when the battery is drained. After every application of brakes, it’ll respond to the right pedal for just a second or two on e-power before indulging the petrol engine. We got it to record over 35mpg even with a flat battery.
It’s not a car of dual-personality, whatever the GTE-mode button promises. The steering’s inert, the engine’s reedy, and the whole car feels breathless and out of sorts when hustled. Besides, every time the engine is roused it’s a guilt trip: you’ve let yourself down, you’ve let Greta down, you’ve let the polar bears down. The play value and satisfaction in the Passat comes from just how cleverly you can tactically deploy its resources to go further on less. It’s a comfortable but otherwise forgettable express, but for the average (14 miles or so) commute, a tremendous tool.
The BMW is the exact opposite in many ways. You sit low and straight-legged. The engine makes a fabulous rasping barrel-chested noise. The 330e M Sport does not lack for visual attitude with its many M badges and twin exhausts, and with a maximum of 289bhp at the rear wheels, it’s properly fast. Until the XtraBoost function drains the 12kWh battery slung beneath the rear bench... then it’s sluggish. The 330e’s appeal – and stumbling block – is it’s obsessed with being taken seriously as a BMW. Despite carrying an extra 200kg, it’s determined to be a driver’s car. So the ride is busier, the steering full of heft and the responses almost cartoonishly alert. This makes it feel like a slick-shod racing car in this company, but is more than a little wearing when it’s tasked with doing an inter-urban commute, which best showcases PHEV efficiency.
At best, the 330e was returning low 60s to the gallon, but it drained its battery more rapidly than the relaxed Passat, and struggled to manage 30 to the gallon once it was out of charge. Weirdly, it only enters regen braking when the pedal is pressed – it’s not at all like the i3, which was designed to be driven as a one-pedal car. That makes it feel more natural, but it’s a concession to the old times. The BMW also can’t hide its packaging compromises: the boot is 100 litres smaller than that of a standard 3-Series, and the fuel tank is a pathetic 40 litres, instead of a 320d’s 59 litres.
The small print, then. It’s five hours to charge the Outlander or Passat from a three-pin, about an hour less for the Three (or 3.5hrs/2.5hrs on a 3.6kW wallbox). All three qualify for
16 per cent benefit-in-kind tax, but because the Mitsubishi’s e-range is sub-30 miles, if it’s registered after April 2020 it’ll trigger a marginally higher tax rate than the saloons. Mind you, said tax is calculated on price including options so forget speccing a £49k-as-tested 330e like this one.
So, the Mitsubishi’s third place here is a very honourable one. The powertrain is clever, it’s very well-equipped and obviously enormously spacious. It desperately needs a worthy cabin. The BMW and VW are very close. The BMW is the more desirable, engaging product to sit in and drive. But the Passat is more efficient, and makes it easier to harvest our planet’s resources. If it’s your money, get the 3-Series. Company paying? The Passat edges it.
“ASKING THE ENGINE TO CHARGE THE BATTERY IS THE LEAST EFFICIENT USE OF FUEL SINCE DEEPWATER HORIZON”