Funky-looking crossover takes on the Nissan Qashqai with hybrid tech
Now, far be it from me to get your pedantry radar pinging, but if you’re going to call a car a coupe, high-rider (C-HR), you might expect an element of accuracy within both of those statements. But, well, this is a post-fact world, or so The Guardian keeps reminding me, so let’s allow Toyota some poetic licence. The C-HR – in effect the firm’s new mainstream five-door hatchback – does have a swooping rear window and sits a hand’s width higher than its own Auris hatchback. But a GT86 SUV it ain’t.
You remember the Auris, right? Go on, you do. Replaced the Corolla? Competes against the Ford Focus, Volkswagen Golf, that sort of thing? No? Well, anyway, you can still buy one, only not many people do, hence the requirement, I suppose, for something else. Something crossover-shaped, because if you want a new mainstream hatchback to sell in Europe, these days you’ll need to make what we used to think was a niche one.
The C-HR is precisely one of those. Toyota expects to sell no fewer than 100,000 of them a year within Europe, which is the only market where Toyota initially thought it would sell the car, before other regions got a look at it and demanded it, too. So the C-HR will sell in Japan and other parts of Asia, and before long other regions as well. A crossover is, in effect, the new global family hatch.
In none of those markets, though, will the C-H R be offered with anything other than petrol or petrol-electric propulsion. Even in a Toyota, this is slightly surprising but probably shouldn’t be. Toyota long ago decided that a combination of petrol and electricity – then, further away, hydrogen and electricity – was its future, because it foresaw that although CO2 emissions were the factor that most affected new car legislation, that situation wouldn’t last forever. Air quality – particulates, nitrogen dioxide and so on – are about to replace CO2 as the bigger concern facing legislation makers, despite the non-end to global warming fears. City dwellers trump polar bears, in other words. I suppose they have better lawyers.
The C-HR, then, comes with either a turbocharged 1.2-litre petrol engine (£20,995-£27,995), which can drive the front wheels through a six-speed manual gearbox or, when mated to a continuously variable transmission (CVT), can propel either the front wheels or all four wheels (it’s a crossover, innit). Or it can be had with front-wheel drive and the 1.8-litre petrol-electric powertrain (£23,595-£27,995) that you’ll find in the latest Prius, whose architecture the C-HR also shares.
At 4.36 metres long, the C-HR is more or less the same length as the Nissan Qashqai. (Toyota’s own RAV4 got a bit larger this time around to make room for it in the range.) That the C-HR has some funky surfacing and a steeply raked rear window mean that it isn’t quite as large as a Qashqai on the inside. With its seats up, the Qashqai has 430 litres of boot to the C-HR’s 377 litres, but you can seat adults behind adults comfortably, although the rising rear window line makes the C-HR’s back chairs feel quite claustrophobic.
“It’s hard to think that the Auris and C-HR could come from the same company”
That’s not the case in the front, where there’s not only a relatively low scuttle (thanks to a platform designed for a lowish centre of gravity) but also some wickedly radical styling, if you’re coming from another Toyota. Honestly, it’s hard to think that the Auris and C-HR could come from the same company. It’s finished pleasingly, too. Pretty lovely inside, in fact. What did we do to deserve this?
Be European, apparently, with our insatiable demand for nice things. That’s where the design work was done, as well as most of the chassis development, including a couple of stints in the UK but mostly on the roads around the Eifel mountains, because Toyota, like most car makers, has an engineering base near some track or other based around there.
To drive, then? Well, the C-HR is one of those cars in which it’s useful to make a lot of detailed notes when you’re driving it, because otherwise your driving impressions are a whole lot of ‘fine’. In fact, even with copious notes, it’s not far off that. Toyota doesn’t monitor feedback from its customers about dynamics, partly because it’s hard to decipher layman’s terms into engineering ones, but mostly because Toyota buyers don’t care. They won’t here, either. Toyota said the C-HR wanted performance on a par with a ‘good’ C-segment hatchback. I’m not sure what one of those is. A Vauxhall Astra, maybe?A Hyundai i30? Something that doesn’t constitute aiming high, anyway. So there’s a tight turning circle, the ride is fine and the steering is smooth.
The 113bhp 1.2-litre engine drives through its manual gearbox really sweetly (don’t mention the CVT), but the real action for Toyota will be with the hybrid, accounting for more than 70% of sales. It makes only 96bhp, so you’re not looking at a brisk car (0-62mph is 11.0sec), but although the engine is sometimes vocal, Toyota’s clever, compact hybrid system, which constitutes planetary gears so that the electric drive motor and petrol engine can spin at whatever speed the car wants, is wickedly effective.
That’s just as it is in a Prius, which is no surprise. The surprise, instead, is that all of those Prius characteristics come in a package that looks and feels quite as funky as the C-HR, so you look less like an Uber driver and more like someone with, y’know, an active lifestyle. Which is quite appealing in itself.
Toyota’s rival to the Nissan Qashqai is interesting to look at and sit in but entirely forgettable to drive
Price: £ 27,995
Engine: 4cyls, 1798cc, petrol, plus electric motor
Power: 96bhp at 5200rpm
Torque: 106lb ft at 3600-4000rpm
Kerb weight: 1420kg
Top speed: 105mph
Economy: 74.3mpg (combined)
CO2/tax band: 86g/km, 15%
Rival: Nissan Qashqai 1.6dCi