A write-off. This simple phrase has always been powerful and emotive to me, like “shark” or “root canal therapy,” although I’ve only had first-hand experience with the lattermost.
If you’d told me a few weeks ago that my wife was going to have an accident that would write off her car, I’d have pictured myself in therapy about now. Thankfully she’s perfectly okay, and I would almost have said the same of the little Mercedes-Benz B250 we bought used about four years ago, an empty-nester downsize from the previous SUV.
But the B is not to B.
The accident, such as it was, lacked only a swipe of yellow paint from a steel pole in a supermarket car park. It actually happened at home: she took a phone call as she exited our garage, which involves driving forwards into an immediate 90-degree left turn into the narrow driveway.
She’s been doing this for 14 years without incident, but this time she turned too soon. The concrete corner of the garage snagged the B-Class on the left rear quarter panel, above the wheel. I later had to digest the crunch when I viewed it on the garage security camera.
The panel was pushed in and scraped for about the width of the wheel. While the tyre was scuffed, it was apparent that the wheel itself hadn’t contacted the wall.
This was hardly the stuff of bent chassis rails or (this being all-wheel drive) a deranged driveline. Indeed, after my brief inspection, she kept driving it for a couple more weeks – feeling emboldened by the $4500 we’d spent only a month earlier on a new inlet manifold, thermostat, serpentine belt, rear brake rotors and intermediate service at 80,000 kays.
She called about the insurance claim and was told to drop the car in for assessment. A few days later, a guy phones from the panel shop. My wife says, “I’ll just go get my husband. He’s, uhh, some kind of motoring expert.”
I guess I’m not, because it was like we were suddenly talking about quantum-optimised aerospace construction when this guy quoted $36,000.
I naturally asked if the whole chassis was skewed or if there was something equally serious I’d missed. I had noted the B-Class’s rear quarter was part of one panel that extended all the way forward to the base of the A-pillar.
The panel shop guy explained his shop didn’t do half-arsed jobs using body filler; that the repair would involve replacing that whole panel. Even at that, I thought: “Yeah? So?”
What I had really been missing was the last 10 years’ worth of eye-opening increases in the cost of labour and replacement parts.
The Insurance Council of Australia in March 2025 noted a 42 per cent increase in the average cost of vehicle accident claims between 2019 and 2024. The cost of vehicle repairs, accounting for about 60 per cent of that average claim cost, increased by 26 per cent between 2022 and 2025. (The other 40 per cent is things like replacement rental cars).
The ICA partly blames these cost increases on some car makers covertly controlling the supply of parts. Since 2022, manufacturers have been obliged to make diagnostic and repair information available to independent repairers, but the ICA has noted a trend among some newer brands only selling parts – and/or the software to integrate them – to its own network.
The motive, you’d like to think, is to better control the integrity of repairs. But an obvious side effect is fewer available repairers and less pricing competition. Hence, higher repair costs.
I was just enough of a motoring expert to know that our 2017 B250’s market value was well shy of $36,000. But the words still came as a shock when, a few days later, the insurance company phoned. A write-off.
My wife went out to the insurer’s yard to collect all the stuff from her car. All the day-to-day things. Sneakers in the boot. A First Aid kit. Six pairs of sunglasses, most broken. Wads of tissues and tubes of lip balm in the door pockets. Reusable paper shopping bags that no-one remembers to reuse. The private rego plates, for her next car.
I was busy and so didn’t go. It was a few days later that I realised I’d taken out the owner’s manual and service booklet at some point during this kerfuffle, and still had those and the spare ignition key in my office.
It’s still a sad, sinking feeling that there is no longer a car to return them to. It would feel too weird to just throw them out.
I never got to say goodbye.
This story first appeared in the August 2026 issue of Wheels magazine, now on sale. Subscribe here and gain access to 12 issues for $109 plus online access to every Wheels issue since 1953.
“Take your left foot off the brake and put it on the floor, Mum.”
“Mum? Mum!”
My left foot hovers, confused, searching for the clutch. There isn’t one. My right foot freezes convinced the car is about to launch itself into the neighbour’s fence. The engine is silent, the car motionless, yet I’m certain we’re about to crash.
“It’s not going anywhere,” my son says, already regretting this. “This is a different way of driving.”
That’s when it hits me: driving used to be muscle memory. Now it’s software, and I’ve been left behind.
I’ve driven the same car for nearly 20 years: a black Toyota Yaris five-door hatchback. Manual. No screens.
No sensors. No digital assistant judging my decisions. Just a key, a clutch and muscle memory that has never let me down. I’ve never had an accident.
Now behind the wheel of Toyota’s new C-HR GR Sport Hybrid, it feels like stepping into the next chapter of something I already trust rather than a different brand. Thankfully, my husband drove the car home from the depot in a busy traffic suburb to our quiet no-through road in a bushland town on Sydney’s western fringe.
Living in the Blue Mountains these days, I don’t drive in city traffic.
The Boy drops in to teach me how to operate a modern car. I’m terrified. I learned to drive in a manual Toyota Tarago van without power steering, stuffed with rambunctious kids and Dad calmly issuing instructions from the passenger seat. We drove everywhere: around the city, long stretches of highway, endless suburban loops designed to teach me how to tackle roundabouts, hill starts and spatial awareness. I was the first of five children to learn in that van.
By the time it finally clicked over one million kilometres and gave up, it was battered, scraped and held together mostly by habit and family memory. Naturally, Mum and Dad replaced it with another Toyota van. Then another. The last one is in our driveway being transformed into a camper.
My first car was a forest green Corolla hatchback, followed by a maroon one, a silver one and a black one. Always Corolla (other than a brief flirtation with a grey RAV4 about 20 years ago). Always manual. Always Toyota.
My current Yaris is showing its age. The fuel gauge is unreliable so I keep it filled above two pips. Apparently it’s a thing with the 2007 model, which I learned when it carked it on the highway one day. The door seals are perishing, so it stinks of mildew every time it rains. The duco has lost some of its sheen. First gear has moods. But I know that car.
I know how much kick to give it to get up a hill. I know when I can launch into traffic and when to wait. But I trust it and, more importantly, it’s always been worthy of that trust.
It was feeling a bit sluggish recently, so we checked the oil. Who knows how long it had run on dry, but six days a week it had dutifully carted us up and down the Mountains and beyond without complaint. That’s the thing about Toyota. It has never let me down. The Yaris is like a windup toy: pull the string and it goes. The C-HR does that too. It just does a lot more of it.
“Okay, so that’s your lane assist,” The Boy explains patiently.
“What’s lane assist?”
A pause. “It keeps you in the lane.”
“I am in the lane.”
“Yeah, but it helps.”
That word keeps coming up. Helps. The car isn’t taking over; it’s backing me up. It beeps when I drift slightly. It flags cars I can’t see. It adjusts speed when traffic changes. It projects information onto the windscreen so I don’t have to glance down. At first it feels like interference. Then gradually it starts to feel like support.
“My car’s mostly mechanical,” I say.
“This is mostly electronic,” The Boy replies.
And somewhere between those two things is where modern driving now sits. Driving used to be physical. Mechanical. You felt everything through your hands and feet, even your seat. Now it’s physical and digital, instinct and information.
I always thought my attachment to manual cars was about simplicity.
But after a few days in the C-HR, I realise it’s also about familiarity. And here’s the uncomfortable truth: the C-HR reveals I’m a control freak. I don’t trust anyone but me to visually sweep a shopping centre carpark before reversing.
The reverse cameras and sensors are undeniably helpful, but I still twist around in my seat like a startled bantam chook, checking everything with my own eyes.
I passed my driving test on the first attempt in 1989 but failed the reverse parking component, a skill I still struggle with. The C-HR somehow makes reverse parking feel less like public humiliation and more like a collaborative exercise. The cameras and sensors don’t rob me of control, they widen the margins.
The deeper we get into the weekend, the more I realise I haven’t just skipped a few years of driving technology. I’ve skipped an entire era.
“Wait,” I say at one point. “The car charges itself?”
The Boy looks at me the way people look at grandparents discovering Wi-Fi. “Yes, Mum.”
The Toyota C-HR Hybrid combines a petrol engine, electric motor and regenerative braking to recharge the battery while driving. It doesn’t need plugging into a charger. The car quietly charges itself while moving.
Mind. Blown.
“This car doesn’t really have gears?” I wonder.
“Well, not normal ones,” he says.
The C-HR uses a continuously variable transmission, or CVT, which as you more knowledgeable Wheels readers would know, smoothly blends power from the petrol engine and electric motors without traditional gear shifts.
“What does that actually mean?” I ask.
“It means you don’t have to think about gears anymore.”
That feels faintly offensive.
“All right, so Dad just discovered there’s different modes. Like Sport mode.”
The Boy presses the button with the enthusiasm of someone about to demonstrate fireworks.
“Sport mode basically unlocks how the car should be all the time,” he declares.
Immediately, the car changes character. Not in a Fast & Furious way, but definitely sharper, more alive. The steering tightens. Acceleration becomes more immediate. The car stops feeling polite and starts feeling edgy.
“What does it actually do?” I ask.
The Boy launches into an explanation involving throttle response, electric motor assistance and torque.
All I hear is: “The electric motors have an enormous amount more torque than petrol engines, and it’s instant. There’s no delay whatsoever.”
That becomes obvious almost immediately. In my Yaris, getting up Boddington Hill on the Great Western Highway below Wentworth Falls in the Blue Mountains requires strategy, optimism and what I can only describe as a flying start from somewhere around Bullaburra, the suburb downhill. The C-HR doesn’t flinch. I don’t have to drop a gear. My foot’s barely squeezing the accelerator. It just climbs. Quietly. Effortlessly.
“When you’re going up hills, it’s using the electric motors to push you up,” he says.
For the first time since getting into the car, I stop focusing on what I don’t understand and start noticing what I like. The confidence. The ease. The strange, slightly addictive feeling that the car is always ready before I am. The Boy casually informs me the car is all-wheel drive.
“But they won’t let us take it off-road,” I point out.
He gathers patience like a physical cloak.
“No, because it’s not a four-wheel-drive,” he says. “It’s ALL-wheel drive.”
He explains how the C-HR’s AWD system uses an electric motor to direct power to the rear wheels when extra traction or acceleration is needed, particularly on hills, corners or slippery roads.
Most of the time it behaves like a front-wheel-drive car, quietly shifting power around in the background without demanding attention. It makes the car feel planted. That confidence becomes obvious on winding mountain roads near home.
In my Yaris, overtaking requires careful planning, favourable weather and, ideally, a mild tailwind. In the C-HR, acceleration arrives instantly and smoothly.
“The electric motors give you instant power when you need it,” The Boy says.
And that’s the thing I keep noticing about this car. It isn’t trying to intimidate me with performance – it reassures me.
There are other things I love, too. The seat adjusts itself at the push of a button – to my back and bottom. The steering wheel warms my hands on cold mountain mornings. The heated seats make me irrationally happy. I haven’t had a functioning radio in the Yaris for years and long ago resorted to a portable Bluetooth speaker rolling around on the floor. So the C-HR’s sound system seamlessly syncing podcasts, playlists and maps from my phone is luxury. The phone charging pad feels like magic. The cabin feels designed for people who actually spend time in cars.
At some point during the weekend, The Boy stops sounding exasperated and starts sounding smug.
“I knew this was going to happen,” he says as his father enthusiastically experiments with another button. “I knew you guys would eventually drive a car with all the mod cons and actually like it.”
To be fair, he’s not wrong. By this stage we’ve become oddly attached to the heated seats, the blind-spot monitoring and the reverse cameras that transform parking from a high-stakes emotional event into something almost mundane.
“You don’t need all the mod cons though, do you,” my husband argues weakly.“Most of them come standard now,” The Boy shoots back. “It’s not even that expensive anymore. If this was 2010 or the early 2000s, yeah. But now it’s just normal.”
I’m reminded of the first touchscreen mobile phone we ever bought. We stood in the kitchen stabbing uselessly at the screen with the confidence of people convinced buttons were superior technology. Now I panic if my maps app takes more than three seconds to load.
That’s the thing about technology: it arrives looking unnecessary and faintly ridiculous right up until the moment it becomes indispensable.
“So you’ve worked out the steering wheel phone system,” The Boy says over the phone one afternoon. “Where are you now?”
His father and I are excited to see him.
“We’re out the front of your place.”
We see the curtain twitch.
“Why are you parked in the street? Drive into the driveway.”
“I can’t,” I admit. “I haven’t got the hang of reverse yet.”
A pause. A sigh.
“Okay. I’ll be there in a minute.”
The Boy isn’t teaching me how to drive. He’s teaching me how to exist inside a different philosophy of driving. The old idea of driving was built around mastery. You understood the machine completely and controlled every part of it yourself.
The new idea is collaboration – the car helps, it watches, it fills in gaps and, slightly annoyingly, that can be pretty great.
At one point The Boy asks, with a sly grin: “How do you find the speedo being on the windscreen, Mum?”
Cheeky boy.
Here’s what I’ve come to realise. I’m still a good driver – attentive, careful and experienced. I understand roads, conditions and risk. I feel the car. But now there’s help. And it turns out that’s not a bad thing.
This isn’t really a story about losing control but redefining it, about understanding that driving hasn’t been taken away. It’s been reimagined and expanded, supported in ways that make it safer, easier and, occasionally, more enjoyable.
I’ll go back to my Yaris. Of course I will. It’s familiar, predictable and mine. Toyota, after all, is still home. But I’ll get back into that little black hatchback knowing that the future of driving isn’t about replacing what I know – it’s about building on it.
And if this is what that future looks like, I’m beginning to understand why so many people have already made the switch. Even if I still check over my shoulder like a startled bird every time I reverse.
This story first appeared in the August 2026 issue of Wheels magazine, now on sale. Subscribe here and gain access to 12 issues for $109 plus online access to every Wheels issue since 1953.
You may not have heard of Chinese luxury automaker Hongqi, but you could be familiar with their cars without even knowing it.
Used as China’s state cars for official Government duties, Hongqi’s range of high-end sedans and SUVs is often seen in motorcades and parades. Soon they’ll be seen on Australian roads too.
Hongqi (pronounced hong-chi) is a brand under the umbrella of the First Auto Works Group, and would be the first passenger car brand from FAW to appeal in Australia, although the company has already established a presence here with its FAW-branded heavy trucks.
For simplicity and ease of understanding in Australia, the brand will be marketed as HQ, rather than its domestic name, which translates to ‘red flag’. It remains to be seen if the red flag styling features of domestic models are removed for the Australian market.
Right-hand-drive products are already in production, sold in markets like Indonesia, Singapore, and Thailand. While the brand has a range of over passenger cars and SUVs globally, plus a Toyota Coaster-rivalling bus, in its current portfolio, just one model is expected to launch the brand.
Pitched as a rival to luxury SUVs like the BMW X5 and Mercedes-Benz GLE, the E-HS9 SUV offers an all-electric drivetrain with a 548km WLTP range, 120kWh battery, 362kW dual-motor drivetrain, 5.5-second 0-100km/h acceleration, six or seven seats, and a multi-screen, leather-lined interior.
So far, the E-HS9 is the only right-hand-drive product in Hongqi’s line-up, priced from 2,990,000 Thai baht (A$128,400), positioning it as a rival to incoming large luxury SUVs like the Volvo EX90 and incoming Zeekr 9X.
FAW has previously confirmed that, before the end of 2026, Hongqi would expand its reach to markets including the UK, Malaysia, and Australia. According to information obtained by GoAuto, the trading names HongQi Australia and HQ ANZ have been registered by Greentech Smart EV Pty Ltd, which will function as the brand’s local distributor.
While Hongqi’s domestic line-up includes petrol, electric, and PHEV across its models, including a 4.0-litre turbocharged V8 in its flagship Guoli sedan, as used by Chinese president Xi Jinping, Australian models are likely to stick with ‘new energy’ EV and PHEV powertrains.
The head of Greentech Smart EV, Jim Wu, told the Australian Financial Review that the brand would aim to offer three models here, priced in line with rivals like BMW and Mercedes-Benz but offering “more luxury”.
Despite this stance, the Rolls-Royce rivalling ultra-luxury sedans sold in the Chinese market aren’t likely to appear in export markets, with the brand focusing on higher-volume small, medium, and large SUVs, echoing its existing European line-up.
Wu said the brand’s dealership rollout included plans to have dealerships in each Australian capital city, but did not provide details on locations or timing for the brand roll-out.
There are plenty of sought-after motoring legends, cars that instantly captured hearts and minds. But for every one of those, there’s a car lurking in the shadows. For every headline act, there’s a crucial bit player.
Whether they were overshadowed by attention-hogging members of their own line-ups, outshone by competitors when new, or simply never recognised for their efforts, these are the forgotten cars from Australian showrooms that deserve cult status.
Mazda 6 MPS
The smaller, cheaper, and arguably cooler Mazda 3 MPS got the lion’s share of attention, but the 6 MPS flew under the radar. Mazda’s internal brief for the car was to keep it subtle and understated on the outside, with an extensive powertrain overhaul that would appeal to those in the know.
Unfortunately for Mazda, the buyers it sought all went to Subaru for the same turbocharged all-wheel drive thrills, and a healthy dose of additional visual aggression lacking from the MPS. Despite this, Mazda’s gutsy 190kW/380Nm turbocharged 2.3-litre engine and ultra-responsive AWD gave the unassuming mid-size sedan true sleeper appeal.
Holden Astra VXR
Some hot hatches, like the Volkswagen Golf GTI or Renault Megane RS, can’t escape their legendary reputation. Meanwhile, Holden’s Opel-developed Astra VXR struggled to get a look-in.
Aussies got their first taste of a true Holden hot hatch with the HSV VXR from 2006 to 2009, then it appeared in Opel showrooms as part of a disastrous one-year experiment in 2012, but after a brief hiatus the Astra VXR came to Holden dealers from 2014 to 2017 as a manual-only 206kW/400Nm terror.
Styling bordered on exotic, for the small car segment at least, and handling was incredibly sharp, with a HiPer Strut front suspension set-up that tamed torque steer and kept traction mostly in check.
Eunos 30X
The Mazda MX-5 is a superstar of recognised desirability. Its posh coupe cousin, not so much. The Eunos 30X was a compact two-door from Mazda’s premium arm in the 1990s with one neat trick up its sleeve: Australia’s smallest V6.
At 1.8 litres, the 30X was even smaller than the 2.0-litre V6 in the 323 from the same era. Power was a modest 99kW, which sounds light by modern standards, but was appreciably better than the 85kW from a similar-era 1.8-litre four-cylinder Corolla.
Sadly, the 30X didn’t share the MX-5’s rear-wheel drive chassis, but it still had pin-sharp handling, absolutely loved the top end of its rev range, and the sound alone made up for any lack of power.
Ford Mondeo XR5 Turbo
Ford dropped a version of Volvo’s turbocharged inline five-cylinder engine into the Focus and created a legend. They also did the same thing to the Mondeo, and it almost went unnoticed.
The Mondeo XR5 Turbo is about as unassuming a vehicle as you’ll find. No loud colours, no boy racer body kits. It’s a medium-size car, so it offers more back-seat and boot space than a Focus, and in standard guise, it’s a more comfortable way to ride out lumpy urban tarmac.
Today, secondhand values see the two draw almost level, and while it’s a little heavier and slower, the Mondeo is not far off the pace – not to mention the fact it’s got an almost supercar soundtrack with the right exhaust.
Porsche 944
The Instagram era has made a good Boxster almost untouchable, and the 911’s popularity fuels its own fire. The 944, on the other hand, often gets overlooked, but is absolutely worthy of attention.
It lacks some ‘Porsche-ness’ with its front-engine layout, but the marque gave it near-perfect 50:50 weight balance, the engines and transmissions have stood up well over the years, and the handling was developed by Porsche. Never mind the horsepower numbers, drive it by feel.
The 944, although a little unlike the rest of the Porsche range, also has the very on-trend pop-up headlight thing going for it. Later versions get you some worthwhile interior upgrades and feel a bit more contemporary.
Nissan Pulsar ET
In the mid-1980s, Japan was just starting its turbocharged experiment, still a little exotic and a little mysterious. Not the kind of thing you’d expect to liven up an unassuming hatchback like the Nissan Pulsar.
The N12-generation Pulsar turbo is an easily missed notch in Australia’s motoring history. It was locally developed, albeit from a cache of Nissan global parts, with a lot of work put into making handling sharper, braking stronger, and torque-steer tamer.
The politically correct term for how the Pulsar ET feels on the road would be ‘connected’ but, perhaps more accurately, and against rivals like the Laser TX3, ‘unrefined’ also fits the bill. As a cheap, light, and flexible starting point, though, it offers plenty of potential.
Saab 9000
Australians seemed to miss the message, but some parts of the world understood the Saab thing pretty well. Forget Top Gear’s claim that to be a true petrolhead, you need an Alfa Romeo. Peak automotive-nerdom comes with a Saab.
Honestly, all of the company’s products are good, but the ‘90s-era 9000 offers rock-solid build quality, immersive interior comfort, and turbocharged performance that’s smooth and vigorous, rather than uncouth or outrageous.
No, the 9000 isn’t the best choice for anyone seeking corner-threading thrills or running regular quarter miles. It’s a different kind of automotive appreciation. Just ask a Saab owner.
HSV SV6000
The VN-based SV5000 is one of HSV’s legendary foundation models, but 16 years later the Z-Series SV6000 didn’t hit quite the same high note. It’s rarer than the SV5000, and a stellar example of HSV’s attempts to integrate tech to the benefit of performance.
Ultimately, the 297kW 6.0-litre V8 was the same as you’d find in a Clubsport R8. The difference, for the special edition, was the inclusion of HSV Dynamic Driver Interface, touted as a world-first.
What you got was a GPS-enabled Dell personal digital assistant (PDA) that let you ‘record’ performance data for later analysis. Think oil and coolant temps, throttle position and anything else that had an in-car sensor. The setup was an early precursor to the integrated Enhanced Drive Interface that appeared in the later Gen-F2 HSV range.
HSV promised 50 of the limited-edition model, with the potential to expand to 100 if buyer interest was there. With no mention of a production extension, we can assume it was not. Finding one today – with a working DDI – would be something of a flex over your Clubsport and Senator-owning mates.
Anyone who thought Bugatti had pushed the design envelope about as far as it can go with the Bolide has just been proved wrong with the creation of the Destrier, the W16-powered new addition to the marque’s uber-exclusive Solitaire Program.
While it’s based on the Bolide, rather than the Chiron, the Destrier – which is named after a medieval warhorse or charger – is an even wilder proposition with a silhouette that’s as much a work of art as a highly effective piece of aerodynamic engineering.
Although it shares its fundamental architecture with the Bolide, the new hypercar has been transformed into a road-focused showpiece with an entirely new exterior and a lavishly appointed cabin. The result is a machine that retains race-inspired performance while presenting a far more elegant visual identity.
The most striking aspect of the Destrier is its low-slung stance. Standing at less than one metre tall, it sits significantly lower and wider than the Chiron, giving it an unmistakably dramatic presence. Unlike many modern hypercars that rely on large active aerodynamic devices, the Destrier maintains its sleek profile at all speeds thanks to carefully integrated aerodynamic solutions.
While the proportions stem from the Bolide, virtually every exterior panel has been redesigned. Up front, Bugatti has reimagined its signature horseshoe grille with a wider opening framed by a precision-machined aluminium surround. A carbon-fibre centre section supports the iconic enamel Bugatti badge, creating a striking focal point.
Flanking the grille are brushed aluminium trim elements that sweep rearwards across the front guards before flowing into Bugatti’s familiar C-shaped side profile. The design is complemented by newly developed oval headlights and an expansive wraparound windscreen featuring the same dramatic curvature as the Bolide.
At the rear, Bugatti has opted for a fixed ducktail-style spoiler in place of an active rear wing. Beneath it sits an aggressive diffuser incorporating four separate lighting elements and quad exhaust outlets. Despite the more refined styling, the Destrier retains the Bolide’s sophisticated cooling and aerodynamic package, with discreet air channels and vents ensuring sufficient engine cooling while maximising high-speed stability.
Power comes from Bugatti’s legendary quad-turbocharged 8.0-litre W16 engine, one of the final applications of the iconic powerplant following the end of regular production. Producing 1175kW, matching the Bolide, the engine promises extraordinary performance.
Bugatti has not released performance figures, but with the Destrier expected to remain close to the Bolide’s 1450kg dry weight, it is likely to deliver acceleration and top-speed capability worthy of the French marque’s most extreme creations.
Inside, however, the Destrier departs dramatically from its track-focused sibling.
Rather than the sparse cockpit of the Bolide, the cabin has been completely reworked with premium materials throughout. The interior is finished in Ambre Voyageur, combining fine leather with a specially knitted textile that extends across the seats and dashboard to create a distinctive handcrafted appearance.
Much of the Bolide’s functional switchgear has either been redesigned or eliminated altogether in favour of a cleaner layout. A newly developed yoke-style steering wheel sits ahead of a compact digital instrument display, providing key driving information without overwhelming the minimalist cockpit.
Bugatti has not disclosed the cost of the one-off creation, and it is unlikely to ever reveal the figure publicly. Given the level of brain-bending engineering and craftsmanship involved, expect that figure to comfortably run into the tens of millions.
The hypercar will make its public debut at the prestigious Pebble Beach motor show in California, where it is expected to be among the event’s biggest attractions.
GWM has revealed a plug-in hybrid version of its Cannon ute, broadening its electrified commercial vehicle range ahead of an Australian launch later this year.
The Cannon Hi4-T PHEV joins the larger Cannon Alpha Hi4-T as the second plug-in hybrid ute in GWM’s local line-up, making the Chinese brand the only manufacturer currently offering two PHEV utes in Australia.
While local pricing and final specifications are yet to be confirmed, GWM says the new model has been developed to bridge the gap between traditional diesel-powered work utes and fully electric vehicles by combining battery-electric driving with conventional four-wheel-drive capability.
Power comes from a 2.0-litre turbocharged petrol engine paired with an electric motor, producing a combined 310kW and 750Nm. The plug-in hybrid system is matched to GWM’s Hi4-T drivetrain, which retains a conventional transmission and mechanical four-wheel-drive system rather than relying solely on electric motors to drive one axle.
GWM claims combined fuel consumption of 2.4L/100km (NEDC).
A 33.1kWh battery provides a claimed 115km of electric-only driving range (NEDC), allowing many owners to complete daily commuting without using the petrol engine. When both power sources are combined, the company claims a total driving range of 1037km (NEDC).
Unlike many electrified passenger vehicles, the Cannon Hi4-T has been engineered to retain its towing and off-road credentials. It offers a 3500kg braked towing capacity, while the traditional four-wheel-drive system is intended to preserve off-road capability in challenging terrain.
The new model also features Vehicle-to-Load (V2L) capability, including 230-volt power outlets integrated into the ute tub. The system allows the vehicle’s battery to power equipment such as tools, camping appliances or household devices when parked.
The Cannon Hi4-T expands what has become one of Australia’s broadest ute ranges. GWM now offers two Cannon model families across multiple body styles and four different powertrains, spanning petrol, diesel, hybrid and plug-in hybrid options.
GWM has not announced Australian pricing but says the Cannon Hi4-T will be positioned among the country’s more affordable plug-in hybrid utes when it arrives. Full specifications, pricing and local timing are expected closer to launch.
The humble Nissan Qashqai may not seem like the most remarkable SUV on the market, but it has proved looks can be deceiving by setting a Guinness World Record.
Nissan’s campaign to prove the effectiveness of its e-Power hybrid system has paid off as the Qashqai set the mark for ‘the longest journey completed by a non-plug-in extended-range electric vehicle SUV without external charging or refuelling’ by clocking up 1980km.
The SUV travelled from the Colombian capital of Bogotá to the country’s Caribbean coast, with the journey largely a downhill run that started around 2600 metres above sea level.
Nissan hasn’t released details of the route taken, nor the fuel consumption recorded, but with a 55-litre fuel tank, it should sit somewhere around 2.78L/100km. Official consumption is rated at 4.1L/100km in mixed driving, giving the Qashqai a range of 1341km from a single tank.
The Guinness World Record for the longest distance by a plug-in hybrid SUV is held by the Chinese Hongqi HS6 PHEV, covering 2327.34km across China. The longest distance covered by a non-hybrid vehicle is 2831km, set in a Skoda Superb diesel that made it from Poland to Paris and back.
Nissan’s record attempt took place from July 14 to July 17 with Guinness verifying and publishing the mark on July 29.
“By proving that an electric-driven SUV can cover nearly 2000 kilometres without relying on external EV charging grids or mid-trip refuelling, the attempt directly addresses range anxiety for consumers in South America,” Guinness said in a promotional release.
Unlike parallel hybrids, which can use electric, petrol or combined power to drive their wheels, Nissan’s e-Power system operates as a series hybrid with the petrol engine used to charge a small on-board battery, which in turn powers the wheels via an electric motor, with no plug or external charging capability.
GWM has opted to go big on battery range as it attempts to stamp its authority on the plus-sized luxury SUV market with the new Haval H10.
As Chinese brands flood the segment with high-margin models, GWM has launched a multifaceted attack featuring strong levels of equipment and sharp pricing.
The Haval H10 adopts styling from GWM’s off-road Tank models, but unlike the body-on-frame Tank range, the new offering only looks tough, using a more on-road-friendly monocoque platform.
The GWM One platform that underpins the Haval H10 is multi-powertrain-compatible, allowing for internal combustion, hybrid, plug-in hybrid or fully electric propulsion. Initially, at least, the H10 will come with a PHEV powertrain.
CarNewsChina reports the H10 will launch with a 440kW/770Nm combined output drive system, comprising a 100kW front electric motor, 220kW rear electric motor and 132kW 1.5-litre four-cylinder petrol engine with a four-speed dedicated hybrid transmission. Acceleration from 0-100 km/h takes a claimed 4.9 seconds.
The 42.8kWh battery enables an electric-only range of up to 323km under CLTC testing (around 260km under WLTP conditions). Recharging at up to 120kW on a compatible DC charger is available, with GWM claiming a 126km top-up is possible in 15 minutes.
Fuel consumption is rated at 0.87L/100km in mixed driving conditions, or 6.6L/100km with a depleted battery.
Despite being based on a monocoque chassis, the Haval H10 includes a number of off-road-aligned features, including an electronically actuated mechanical rear differential lock, crawl control, a tailgate-mounted spare wheel, and 220mm of ground clearance.
Two versions of the H10 will be offered in China: a five-seat model with a 5138mm overall length and a seven-seat version with a longer rear compartment that stops the tape at 5299mm. Both versions keep the same 3000mm wheelbase.
Interior appointments include fully-reclining front seats, individual second-row captain’s chairs with leg rests, heated, ventilated and massaging seats, a dual-pane panoramic sunroof, a food cooler and warmer with a -6ºC to 50ºC range, and more.
The front infotainment screen measures 15.6 inches with a 17.3-inch roof-mounted rear infotainment screen. An in-house AI assistant, called Coffee AI (based on GWM’s Coffee OS), is available, and a 21-speaker premium audio can be optioned.
Driver-assist technology for the H10’s domestic market includes lidar-assisted autonomous driving capability, start-to-finish navigate-on-autopilot functionality, intelligent parking assist and intelligent torque vectoring.
In order to gain traction in its home market, the Haval H10 will launch with a starting price of 209,800 yuan (A$44,050). Its closest rival, the BYD Ti7 (sold as the Fangchenbao Titanium 7 in China), starts slightly lower at 206,880 yuan (A$43,425) but with a shorter 190km EV range.
Australian plans for the new model are yet to be locked in, with GWM’s ‘urban’ Haval division not currently offering a three-row SUV as the more rugged Tank 500 covers that segment down under.
The 2027 Mercedes-AMG GT53 4-door Coupé has been revealed, showcasing how Mercedes-Benz intend to handle the entry-level end of its flagship EV range.
Following on from the more powerful 600kW GT55 and 860kW GT63 flagship, the new entry point to the range comes with dual motors and offers peak power of 400kW. AMG claims the GT53 can sprint from 0-100km/h in 3.5 seconds with a one-foot rollout (3.9-sec standing start), 1.4 seconds slower than the GT63.
The AMG GT53 also sits lower on the performance pecking order than the cheaper CLA45 four-door coupé, with a 500kW claimed output and a 2.7-sec 0-100km/h time with a one-foot rollout (3.0-sec standing).
The drive system comprises a two-speed transmission for the rear axle motor, and single-speed drive on the front, moving away from the three-motor setup of the more powerful GT55 and GT63. The front motor works as a ‘boost’ motor when extreme acceleration is required, and is engaged via a disconnect unit when needed.
Continuous power is rated at a tamer 270kW, with an 800Nm peak torque figure claimed.
An 800-volt battery architecture is retained, with a peak charging rate of 600kW on a compatible charger, enabling a 10-80 per cent recharge in 11 minutes. A 10-minute top-up is enough to add 534km of range, but despite the impressive DC charging speeds, the GT53 4-door is only 11kW AC compatible.
Mercedes-Benz quotes a WLTP driving range of between 682km and 809km, depending on specifications, and an urban-only range of between 761km and 880km. Battery capacity is 106kWh, the same as that of more powerful versions of the AMG GT 4-door.
For drivers unwilling to let go of the emotional connection of AMG’s combustion-engined cars, the GT53 will offer a petrol engine soundtrack, based on the engine noise of the previous E53 Coupé. Switching to the AMGFORCE Sport+ drive mode activates this, along with simulated gear changes and a manual mode.
The AMG GT53 D-door will also be equipped with AMG Ride Control adaptive air suspension, ‘AeroKinetics’ adaptive aerodynamics, with a deployable rear wing and extending rear diffuser, and a six-mode drive control to toggle between Comfort, Sport, AMGFORCE Sport+, Slippery, Eco, and Individual modes.
The interior features separate instrument and driver-angled infotainment displays housed under a single frame, with a separate passenger display available. Sports front seats and individual rear seats, plus an AMG sports steering wheel with ‘Responsive Control’ drive mode adjustment and shift paddles are also included.
Australian pricing and availability are yet to be announced, but European sales start this month, with a starting price of €115,430 (A$189,170), expected to translate to a higher price locally once import costs and Luxury Car Tax are added. The previous generation GT 4-door Coupé, available in flagship GT63 S E Performance PHEV guise in Australia, was priced from $409,600.
Australian motorists are reportedly paying strangers to accept responsibility for traffic offences in an illegal attempt to avoid losing their licences, with the practice becoming increasingly visible online.
A report by Yahoo News Australia said social media platforms and online marketplaces are being used to advertise services in which people offer to accept demerit points in exchange for cash, allowing drivers facing licence suspension to falsely nominate someone else as the person behind the wheel.
The Canberra Times also reported drivers in the ACT are paying as much as $500 per demerit point, with some handing over more than $1000 to retain their driving privileges.
One provisional licence holder told the newspaper he paid $1200 for another person to accept responsibility for a mobile phone offence after he had already accumulated enough demerit points to be facing a mandatory three-month suspension.
The alleged transactions exploit the process that allows registered vehicle owners to nominate another driver for camera-detected offences through government infringement portals.
Figures provided to the newspaper show Access Canberra received 23,792 statutory declarations in the first six months of 2026 from registered owners claiming they were not driving at the time of an offence. That follows 42,308 declarations in 2025 and 40,677 in 2024.
An ACT Government spokesperson said suspicious declarations are referred to the Australian Federal Police for investigation where appropriate.
Reports about online advertisements for paid demerit point transfers were widely reported in 2023, with Yahoo reporting similar listings continue to appear on Facebook Marketplace, Messenger and community groups.
Among the advertisements identified by Yahoo were listings offering “demerit points” for sale, while another encouraged drivers to contact the seller if they wanted to avoid accumulating penalty points. Some posts included price lists for various traffic offences.
Authorities have warned motorists against participating in false nomination schemes.
In the ACT, making a false statutory declaration can attract fines of up to $55,000 for individuals. In New South Wales, falsely nominating another driver can also result in substantial financial penalties and additional licence sanctions.
Road safety authorities say the demerit point system is designed to identify repeat offenders, with licence suspensions intended to remove high-risk drivers from the road rather than provide a financial incentive for illegal point-swapping schemes.
