Hyundai Kona 2018 review: Elite AWD

We’ve had a decent amount of experience with the Hyundai Kona, and for good reason: buyers love it. Everyone else, it seems… not so much.

The Kona’s wild face is like a black hole for opinions. Good, bad - it doesn't matter. It just sucks them all in.

Controversial? Probably. Unwanted? No, not at all. Small SUVs are seemingly becoming more and more alike to look at, so at least you aren’t going to lose this in a car park.

Not that the Kona is made for sitting in the car park. SUVs are all about leisure activities (or at least that's what the ads tell us); they’re made for getting your lifestyle toys to your favourite lake, beach, or camping ground. 'Escaping the city' and all that... Good thing I know a leisure enthusiast then!

My father’s partner in Maitland, at the lower end of the Hunter Valley in NSW, loves that stuff. Loves it! She camps, kayaks, and canoes herself through almost every weekend. I have no idea how she does it. A walk to the fridge is enough weekend movement for me.

As expected, she’s very much into SUVs. Not only do she and my dad go canoeing frequently, she's also recently floated around the idea of buying a small SUV.

Given her current Toyota Yaris is getting a bit tired, it seemed obvious I should pay her a visit.

Saturday:

Like all Saturdays in Sydney’s outskirts, the weekend opened with the typical weekend grind: horns, honking, and an endless stream of grey, mid-spec cars all trying to leave the city behind.

While the looks of the Kona didn’t assist progress in any way (not that I was expecting it to magically part traffic as if it were the Red Sea), it did at least bring a mild sense of occasion.

Looking around left to right, every car seemed the same.

The Kona Elite, on the other hand – partly thanks to the spicy orange paint job, black two-tone roof, and adventurous chunky-dunk plastic wheel arches – felt unique. It's a loud design that stands out, for better or worse.

The Elite AWD gets 17-inch wheels as standard.

It’s disappointing the exterior’s individualism doesn't extend to the interior. If you’ve been in a Hyundai i30, it’s a similar deal inside the Kona: effective and functional controls ergonomically distributed across a conservative, yet nicely screwed together dashboard.

It’s not zesty or tempestuous, but does boast solid fit and finish. The HVAC switchgear have very little lateral play, none of the buttons feel tacky, and the indicator/wiper controls have premium, Volkswagen-esque weight and movement. They look plain, but feel good in hand.

NVH levels were reasonable once out on the Pacific Highway's 110km/h limit - possibly due to the Elite’s more forgiving 17-inch wheels compared to the the bigger 18-inch rims found on the more expensive Highlander - and the leather-trimmed seats were comfortable and supportive.

But when I pulled up at my dad's house, both he and his partner were not impressed. While the Kona’s mad face and loud paint both he and his partner were not impressed, they were disappointed by its boring interior and lack of built-in sat nav. 

I tried countering with details of the punchy turbo-petrol engine (which is an awesome unit!) and all the safety kit, but it was futile. Any hint of excitement faded when they saw the all-grey interior and felt the blow of the price.

While the Kona I had was the more expensive all-wheel drive (AWD) with the 130kW/265Nm, 1.6-litre turbo-petrol (instead of the basic 2.0-litre found in the front-wheel drive models) the price still came out to $32,000 before on-roads.

Compared to the Hyundai i30 SR ($28,950), that doesn't look like spectacular value. But it's roughly on par with the $30,990 Mazda CX-3 sTouring AWD, which is great to drive but tiny inside; the $30,990 Toyota C-HR AWD, which looks fantastic but is woefully underpowered; and the $33,340 Honda HR-V VTi-L, which is as spacious as a bus (but about as interesting).

On top of the level of specification brought over by the base ‘Active’ spec, the Elite AWD picks up leather seats with perforated inserts, single-zone climate control, a proximity key with push button start, automatic wipers and lights, fog lights, and bigger 17-inch alloys.

It sits reasonably high off the ground, but it won't give many drivers the 'rollover' anxiety some SUVs used to give.

There’s also an electronically locking centre differential. Hit the diff lock button (located to the right of the gear shifter) and the car’s power will be split 50/50 between the front and rear axles. It works best in those loose surface off-road situations (like driving on the beach) where fixed power distribution is better than letting computers shuffle power around when needed.

The turbocharged all-wheel drive Konas, as opposed to the naturally-aspirated font-wheel drive ones, also get a multi-link rear suspension unit instead of the more basic torsion beam, which helps keep the car more planted in bumpy corners.

Not that my father and his partner were really interested in going for a drive any more. If it doesn’t have a welcoming interior, space in the back, or a decent-sized boot, they aren’t interested. Bit harsh.

In terms of boot space, a Honda HR-V is much better suited to haul cargo. While the Kona offers up 361-litres of space (VDA), the Honda features a class-leading 437 litres. Massive!

Sunday:

On day two I decided to head south-east to NSW's Central Coast to take my mother and her partner out for a lakeside lunch. Maybe they'd give the Kona a more favorable reception.

Like my dad and his partner, this pair isn't too fussed when it comes to cars. Spot on average expectations, in fact. If they didn’t like it I wouldn’t know what to do. But weirdly, it was me who started feeling the Kona’s charm. And I hate most SUVs.

A Mazda CX-3 has half a million variants, all of which offer a pretty engaging drive; the user-friendly 'press-and-go' Honda HR-V is as practical as a chest of drawers; and the Toyota C-HR has cheeky, Japanese Tonka-Toy charisma. The Kona Elite, on the other hand, feels like an oddball amalgam of all of them.

It's as if Hyundai took a pinch from its closest competitors, added a dash of Germanic maturity, and then cooked it up before putting it on sale. It’s surprisingly tasty.

Spec any variant above the base-model Active ($24,500-$28,000) and you’ll score a bigger safety net that includes blind-spot monitoring, AEB with forward collision warning, rear-cross traffic alert, and lane-keep assist.

All jolly good. But while the rear seats get a centre fold-down armrest with cupholders, there aren’t any rear-mounted air vents in the centre console. This didn’t go down well with my mum.

“What happens if it’s a hot day and have baby in the back seat,” she asked. “What are they supposed to do?”

While the Kona lacked the incumbent omnidirectional air vents in the rear of the centre console, it did have floor-mounted nozzles poking out from under the front seats. Not as good, but they’re sure to get the job done. Just make sure the rugrats don’t shove jam and kick crumbs down there.

We had plenty of time to dawdle around. Not only because someone had completely forgotten about going out for lunch (and needed another half hour to get ready), but because one of the neighbours had entirely parked me in. On our own property...

Once out and around the Central Coast suburbs, we found the ride quality was nicely sorted. Firm, but compliant. It sits reasonably high off the ground, but won't give many drivers the 'rollover' anxiety some SUVs gave back in the day. Hyundai calibrates the suspension tune of all its Australian-market cars locally and it shows. There's a good compromise between comfort and handling, height and composure.

There was also an impressive feeling of zippiness out of faster corners, with the little 1.6-litre turbo always ready to slingshoot us out with commendable gusto. Peak torque arrives at 1500rpm (very low!) and stays with you all the way to 4500rpm. On top of that, the torque figure is a very strong 265Nm; the most amount you’ll find in a petrol-powered small SUV, by far.

What all this means is the Kona’s 1.6-litre turbo-petrol is a very capable despite its size. It's small but fiesty, and because that torque is smeared across the lower-end of the rev band, the engine feels much bigger than it is. Whether you're darting through the CBD or driving up a hill on the highway, the Kona has plenty of punch.

What almost lets it down is the transmission. It’s a bit of a mismanaged oddity. Instead of a normal torque-converted automatic (which is what most autos are), the transmission in the AWD Kona is a dual-clutch auto (effectively a manual gearbox with two computer-controlled clutches).

The advantage here is that when you’re on the move, the gear changes are very quick and efficient. You don’t really feel them and the ‘box doesn’t sap power from the engine. The bad part is when you take off from an incline. In these circumstances, the car tends to roll as the clutches slowly, then swiftly, engage and send drive to the wheels. Sometimes you’ll dawdle forward as they engage, sometimes you won’t. It depends on the hill and how you apply the throttle. There’s a bit of a learning curve.

By the time we finished lunch and turned around, my mum hadn’t been (completely) sold on the car. On top of the interior's lacklustre design and tight rear space, she drives a near-new hatchback and isn’t overly convinced about the (limited) advantages brought by smaller, more expensive SUVs. For her, the Kona Elite is temping, but not convincing.

But by the time I had to hand back the keys at the end of the week, I'd come to like the Kona. Very much.

The transmission can be annoying, but the Elite irons out its foibles with solid advantages. Despite the wacky front-end, the Kona comes off as a level-headed machine and appears to be targeted towards those who appreciate polished basics over superficial luxuries. I like that... a lot.