ROADTEST: CHRYSLER GRAND VOYAGER:WELCOME TO the latest iteration of the soccer-mom minibus with presidential appeal and more interior legroom than the Government jet.
Having been rescued from oblivion by Fiat, Chrysler is going through a seemingly ill-fated forced marriage with Lancia at the moment, but it’s good to see that so far it hasn’t had to sacrifice the one model that justifies the brand’s continued existence.
This car may carry the mass-market Chrysler badge, but the Grand Voyager is something of a brand all its own: a seven-seater for the well-heeled with the sort of premium appeal to rival the German upmarket badges.
Starting at €45,995 for a well-equipped version, a further €3,000 will you get more gadgets than a smash and grab at Halfords. It’s the sort of pricing that’s certain to lure prospective buyers to the long-empty Chrysler showrooms.
While built with the US in mind, some changes do cater for European tastes. The most obvious is under the bonnet. A revised 2.8-litre 163bhp turbo-diesel with a six-speed automatic gearbox is now standard. On paper it should be big enough to do a decent job, but on the road its 360Nm of torque is just too small to lug this great lump of metal around. Take your foot off the “gas” pedal and the vehicle slows to a lethargic crawl, like it has dropped anchor.
As the engine has to work so hard, we never exceeded 10L/100km (28.3mpg) in suburban driving, better than the official urban figures, but still very thirsty. The automatic gearbox does its best to cope, but it’s fighting a losing battle to get the most from the engine. Emissions are also unimpressive at 222g/km, resulting in a motor tax bill of €1,050. This annual outlay needs to be weighed against the seemingly attractive sticker price.
There are other features that haven’t made the transatlantic trip very well. The move to right-hand drive has left the pedals strangely skewed to the left of the footwell, while the steering wheel features a ridiculously large button that does nothing more than call up current compass directions on the dashboard. Meanwhile, the voice activation control for the radio operates via a button on the stereo next to the controls themselves. With European roads modelled on spilt spaghetti rather than organised grids, no one cares whether they’re heading north or south so long as the sat-nav is working. And if you can reach the button for the voice activation then you can surely change the radio station as well.
The need to cater for our squiggled road network highlights another difference between US autos and European cars: we care far more about a car’s handling than our US cousins. Alas, the Grand Voyager once more reveals the Stars and Stripes in its DNA. It tends to wallow even in the gentlest of bends, while the steering is far too light and uninformative, seemingly with only a passing relationship with the front wheels.
Yet for family functionality and features this car is a star. If you harbour any animosity towards physical exertion then you’ll love this car in limited-edition specification, for the most strenuous effort required is flexing your index finger to push one of the car’s many control buttons.
In the higher specification version the third row bench seats flip and fold into the floor at the flick of a switch. That said, it requires a vote of confidence that these electronics will operate reliably through the rough and tumble of family life. All the rear seats are incredibly comfortable and even the third row caters for tall adults with ample legroom, while the luggage space remains cavernous.
For an additional €1,600 there’s the option of two roof-mounted 9-inch screens, one for each row, with wireless headphones and remote controls. As each screen operates independently, one can follow the antics of Peppa Pig while the other is filled with Glee. While most parents who prize peace and quiet will have already invested in portable DVD players, the roof-mounted screens will be a talking point at the school gate.
Our road test of the Grand Voyager was evenly split between childish wonder at its functionality and frustration at its lack of motoring prowess. Strip away all the whizz-bang electronics and you have an underpowered people carrier with rather sloppy handling but loads of comfort and legroom in the back; all for a relatively competitive price.
Rivals include the Renault Espace (€36,800) and the Ford Galaxy (€48,995 for a top-range Titanium), or a Volvo XC90 (€56,545). All of these are better to drive, yet the Voyager wins out in terms of family functionality.
Ultimately its US roots are both its virtue and its vice. It will largely come down to how much influence the rear passengers have in the potential purchase. Backseat drivers will vote for Voyager.
Factfile
ENGINE
2,777cc four-cylinder turbodiesel with a six-speed auto box, putting out 163bhp
@ 3,800rpm and 360Nm of torque.
PERFORMANCE
0-100km/h: 12.8 seconds; 185km/h top speed
ECONOMY
8.4 L/100km (33.6mpg)
EMISSIONS
222g/km (€1,050 motor tax)
LUGGAGE CAPACITY
756 litres to 3,296 litres (2,054 litres in four-seat mode)
FEATURES
All models feature power-operated sliding doors; a power tailgate; cruise control; three-zone climate control; alloy wheels; fully-adjustable second-row captain’s chairs, Bluetooth connectivity; reversing camera.
PRICES
€45,995 for Touring model €48,995 for Limited version
RIVALS
Ford Galaxy 2.0 TDCi Titanium Powershift – €48,995 (€447 motor tax); Renault Espace 2.0 dCi 130 Generation – €36,800 (€630 motor tax); Volvo XC90 163 bhp Auto FWD SE – €56,545 (€1,050 motor tax)
OUR RATING 6/10
Ultra-practical, comfortable and well-priced – but not much fun for the driver
