Rolling with the Rhino
The stocky, chromewheeled Rhino is a fitting illustration of SsangYong’s desire to be different.
That logic of standing out from the crowd sits at odds to the conservative buyers who normally buy into the doublecab ute segment. But, Korea’s only entrant to the ute game — the nation’s best effort yet — aims to change that.
Driven was handed the keys of SsangYong’s four-wheel drive mid-spec silver Sport and topspec red SPR models. While Rhino pricing starts at $29,880, the Sport starts at $40,230, with the automatic costing $42,520. The SPR meanwhile is automatic only, and is priced bang on
$50,000. The later’s pricing is particularly impressive, given that it’s over 10 grand cheaper (if not more) than similar range-topping models from most other brands — of which most aren’t as well optioned.
The powertrain is the same in both models; a 2.2-litre turbodiesel making 133kW at 4000rpm and 420Nm at 1400-2800rpm (if you opt for the manual, you lose 20Nm). This allows for a towing capacity of 3500kg.
The main differences between the Sport and SPR revolve around looks, luxury, and technology. The SPR gains a set of 20in ‘Sputtering” wheels, roof rails, Nappa leather seats that are heated and ventilated in the front row, heated mirrors, keyless entry, dual-zone climate control, a partially digital gauge cluster, and a surprisingly good 360-degree camera.
The SPR also adds side and curtain airbags, which sadly aren’t standard in the Sport — or, for that matter, in any other model in the Rhino range. There’s also no autonomous emergency braking on offer, and the fifth passenger has to make do with merely a lap seat belt.
The double-cab ute segment is one of the last to standardise some of these safety features, with vehicles such as the more expensive Volkswagen Amarok skipping curtain airbags and AEB throughout its range. Hopefully SsangYong has remedies for these shortcomings in the pipeline.
What makes these issues a particular shame is that in every other respect, the Rhino is one of the best passenger utes on the market. This was a point we made at the national launch, and it’s one that grew in legitimacy in our twoodd weeks of Rhino exposure.
It’s arguably the most enormous and liveable cabin of any in the double-cab segment, with 90mm of extra width over the Ford Ranger helping accommodate greater shoulder room and making the fifth seat relatively adult friendly. Rear knee and legroom is especially commodious. As we’ve talked about before, this stems largely from the Rhino being based on its Rexton sibling’s underpinnings — making it fundamentally different in its layout.
Sitting behind the driver’s seat when adjusted to our personal position, knee, feet, and leg-room was ample; a fact we haven’t been able to replicate in a Ranger or Toyota Hilux. It’s comfortable back there too, thanks to a generously angled seat-back. While
Facebook-addicted friends in the back seat don’t get USB ports to plug their phones into, they do get a pair of air vents. Knurled dials and plenty of soft-touch surfaces simply add to the comfort bucket.
The trade-off for all this space is a short rear bed space that’s only 1300mm long — the shortest in class. But to those considering this a deal killer, a 1610mm long-bed version will land here shortly.
Behind the wheel is where all the action happens, and the Rhino is
largely pleasing. Its nuggety dimensions and gaping glasshouse make it easy to place and park, while relatively precise steering makes for a simple drive.
We found the suspension — wishbone in the front, five-link and coil springs in the rear — to be a bit brittle on broken surfaces. This was particularly true in the SPR, thanks to its rapper-video wheels.
The engine lacks torque on paper, but feels surprisingly punchy. While SsangYong claims a fuel economy of 7.9L/100km (Sport) and 8.6L/100km (SPR) in the two utes respectfully (the difference likely accounting for the SPR’s wheels and weight), our combined economy in both utes instead hovered around 10L/100km.
The 2.2-litre’s best attribute, however, is how silent it is.
Start-up and sound at low revs is muted, to the point that even my normally hyperactive pooch struggled to notice the SsangYong’s diesel engine note when it was reversed up the driveway. The quiet engine is further complemented by an equally quiet cabinthat minimises tyre roar and wind noise.
Combined, the Rhino is probably the most peaceful ute money can buy. Apart from a Mercedes-Benz X-Class, perhaps.
If you’re reading this thinking that SsangYong has turned the corner and morphed into some kind of vehicular Cinderella, know that the Rhino still packs a requisite assortment of weirdness.
For one, it won’t automatically connect to your phone’s Bluetooth audio when you switch it on. This is something that has to be done manually each time you clamber inside. While most of the switchgear is lovely to use, the indicator and wiper stalks are among the cheapest-feeling on any new vehicle. And the way the outline of the back doors crosses the C pillar to meet the bed is odd to look at and a potential fingerjamming risk.
Without a doubt though, the most bizarre feature on the Rhino is the ability to change the sound of the indicators. There are four traditional bing-bong noises and a fifth option of . . . chirping crickets; ideal for flicking on when a passenger’s joke falls flat or when the passing scenery could do with an extra dosage of nature.
But if you can stomach those mild quirks, you’ll find that the SsangYong Rhino is every bit the double-cab ute contender.
Loaded with value, toys and surprise; this is the game-changing ute SsangYong has long been chasing.