Hyundai Ioniq 9 - long-term review

Hard to imagine, as you clutch a melty Cornetto in 35-degree heat, but I’ve been skiing. OK, I went skiing back at the beginning of April (essentially the last week of the season before the Alps turn into one giant Slush Puppie), but I drove there in the Ioniq 9 - a car which, apart from being electric, should be the perfect tool for the 1,258-mile job.

I say perfect, but as I’m ushered onto the standard-width, alloy-chewing Eurotunnel carriage, despite asking for a spot in the XXL one, my butt starts puckering. If you’ve ever driven anything girthy down of these you’ll know the horror – a central channel with raised metal kerbs either side just a few millimetres wider than the 9’s 21in multi-spoke wheels, and then every fifty yards or so a toilet cubicle that crushes you in further still and tries to eat your wing mirrors.

But what’s this? The high sidewall tyres (never has a set of 21in wheels looked smaller on a car btw) don’t only help the ride, they let you clip the nasty metal lips without cheese-grating your rims. Result. And because I don’t have traditional wing mirrors, but svelte little camera pods, even the toilet intrusion isn’t an issue. Small things, big feelgood factor.

We’re on the French motorways now, the excellent radar cruise control set to 130kph, the lane-keep nudging the wheel about smoothly to keep me in the centre of the markings, the infuriating speed-warning bong turned off. I’m largely a passenger, doing a not-too-terrible 2.2mi/kwh, considering the sheer mass and we’re at a steady 80mph cruise. This is truly a car born to crush distance - a wallowy, whisper quiet express. The kids have a captain’s chair each, acres of floor space around them to pile up pillows, entertainment devices (with a 100w charger each on constant duty) and snacks, and all is serene as I chew through an audio book. Parenting has never been so easy.

It goes without saying that with the third row folded we have a truly stadium-sized boot, plus all the aforementioned floor space (in the front, between driver and passenger, too) plus various compartments, cubbies and stash drawers. Even my wife, the reigning champion of packing more than four humans could reasonably need, had a hard time filling it to the gills.

My charging tactics are thus: to completely ignore the very helpful built-in nav that (like a Tesla) tells you where to stop, and for how long, the speed of the charger and how many stalls are free. I know better of course and shall be employing fewer, longer stops, because once you’re hooked up you might as well go to 100 per cent, right? Wrong. The problem is, it’s French school holidays so the roads and therefore the service-station chargers are busy. A short queue at each eats into our ETA, once hooked up we rarely get near the Ioniq 9’s 233kWh max charging speed and then the final 20 per cent of charge is like watching paint dry. There’s only so many café au laits a man can drink.

On the return journey I park my pride and do exactly as the nav says, stopping a lot more often, rarely for more than 20mins, pinballing between 25 to 30 per cent and 80 per cent battery, enough for fast two hour stints and lo and behold progress is quicker and crucially less stressful because you’re never close to troubling the sub-15 per cent battery panic zone. I’m hugely impressed, it’s one of those cars that it’s hard to get excited about any one thing in particular, but it leaves no box unchecked. It’s relentless in its pursuit of making your life easier.