More Toy Story than Fast & Furious
I CAN’T RECALL A CAR LESS WORTHY OF ‘GT’
WELL, look what we have here… If it isn’t another midsize SUV crossover for us all to get excited about. Which isn’t difficult – from a styling point at least (after which don’t hold your breath).
The Hyundai Kona has heaps of the now seemingly mandatory fun B-SUV quirkiness going on – maybe too much. Whether this over-egging of the design pudding is due to the genuine enthusiasm of chief designer Luc Donckerwolke (who, incredibly, was responsible for the Lamborghini Gallardo, Diablo and Murciélago), or merely corporate paranoia at having to make a splash in the Toy Story world of the Nissan Juke, Mazda CX-3 ETC, your guess is as good as mine.
And look what happens as a result – the visual travesty of a world-renowned designer ditching his artistic genius for such overthe-top comic-book looks – not to mention no fewer than three false grilles.
What’s the point of it all, beyond wooing unsuspecting innocents into thinking it looks quite nice? The truth is, underneath the fancy dress many of these modern-day Mystery Machine clones are noisy, uncomfortable, extremely dull to drive and usually woefully underpowered.
Cast your eyes back, beyond the Kona’s B pillar, and this collage of a vehicle begins to look physically stressed, almost hunched up. Thank goodness, then, for the much more fluid back end, by far the Kona’s best and least muddled angle. Its neat clusters of reverse lamps, indicators and reflectors are a welcome spot of well-organised calm, nestling within the no-nonsense, wraparound rear bumper.
Boot space is average to mildly disappointing, although the flatload lip is a godsend, as is the relatively flat extended cargo hold (once the rear seats have been folded down). From a passenger’s point of view, my wife and boys really didn’t like being in the back. The three-person bench seat is surprisingly narrow for the size of the car, as well as being unattractive and uncomfortable. ‘Especially around corners,’ protested Mrs Evans. ‘We’re all over the place back here.’
The major issue with the interior is its general, all-round bleakness. Sure, there’s minimalist chic but then there’s plain ugly, chunky, dark and depressing, which is what we have here. It’s a shame, as all the on-board tech is rather good, pleasingly simple in its layout, and easy to navigate and operate. And I loved the oversized font on the phone page.
After starting up the 1.6-litre, four-cylinder turbocharged petrol engine for the first time, I was greeted by the inoffensive rhythm of a standard turn-over, a relatively quiet affair. That was until I began to pull away, after which it began to sound very odd indeed. It was more akin to a desktop fan than anything one might expect to find under the bonnet of a car. With the entertainment system turned down and all the windows up, it was all I could hear and seemed to get louder and more hypnotic the more I fell under its spell.
Power-wise, the whole package felt a bit underwhelming. Except for when I really wrung its neck, at which point it did threaten to get a wiggle on. This however, at the expense of rendering everything else even more unpleasant and desperate than it was already.
God only knows why Hyundai has bothered with the pretence of three driver’s modes, with so little performance to shout about. Compounded by something I find annoying and quite offensive: the car’s full name, the Kona ‘Premium GT’. I cannot recall a car less worthy of the GT suffix, especially preceded by the word Premium. This is the type of condescending sales bluster that drives consumers bonkers, presuming them to be fools. Like lying about one’s age.
At least the fuel economy made me happy! The Kona regularly registered over 14km/l, regardless of driving styles, road surfaces and traffic density. The brakes, however, didn’t illicit any happiness – they are soft and indistinct, as is the steering.
As much as my family, friends and I admired the i30N we tested over Christmas, we really didn’t care for this car very much at all.
Price-wise, it’s neither seductively cheap nor abhorrently expensive, which leaves me to conclude, if it was half as much fun inside as it is outside, it might be worth considering but it’s not. So don’t.
I still can’t believe the same bloke who designed this designed those Lambos. How did that happen? What did he do wrong?