Back in the 1990s, a large executive car with a mainstream badge was about as desirable as lumpy mash. If you wanted to project an image of real clout and business acumen, an Audi, BMW, Mercedes-Benz or, perhaps, Volvo, would have been your go-to choice.
In view of that, a chrome-infused barge from a South Korean company also responsible for a motorised wardrobe called the Amica, sounds like a rather hard sell. And so it proved. For a whole six-month period in 2001 (the year after it went into production), the Hyundai XG30 notched up a paltry 173 sales. That works out at less than one a day. Oh dear.
Apart from the sort of styling that would make a SsangYong Rodius feel a bit better about itself, what were so many British executives missing out on? The XG30 was a 4.9-metre-long saloon with a Mitsubishi-derived 3-litre V6, front-wheel drive and an entire litany of titivating equipment. It could reach 60mph in 9 seconds, and its spacious, cosseting cabin was awash with leather and wood-effect trim.
On the face of it, then, the XG30 didn’t sound like a bad car. But it flopped almost entirely as a result of that less-than-stellar badge on its boot lid. Hyundai has made huge leaps in recent years in terms of competitiveness and desirability, but back in the day its reputation was very much that of a budget-focused car manufacturer. The XG30’s residual forecasts reflected this: after three years, the model would've retained a disastrous 25% of its value.
Bottom line? While an equivalent Audi and BMW would be more expensive to buy outright, their far superior residuals would make them better-value buys in the end.
And yet… The Hyundai XG30 is a guilty pleasure of mine, a motorised Dannii Minogue, if you will (actually, that is deeply offensive to Dannii). Ever since I saw it on Top Gear back in 2000, it has elicited an interest that corresponds with its left-field nature. The appearance is rather challenging at first, with slightly iffy proportions and a comically under-wheeled stance. But the liberal use of chrome, large proportions, high belt line and important-looking grille endow it with more than a passing resemblance to a Rolls-Royce Silver Seraph. The design of the rear three-quarters is particularly Seraph-y.
I’m sure it holds very little - if anything at all - for the keen driver, but equally I’m sure the soft suspension is capable of ferrying you and your business colleagues about in serene comfort. Not everybody wants to experience the connected, firm, razor-sharp dynamism of a BMW, even if most normal people do.
The XG30 lasted only three years on the British market, but sales were much higher in its native South Korea and throughout Asia. It’s now almost forgotten, along with other left-of-field execs such as the Mitsubishi Sigma and Nissan Maxima QX. Perhaps there's a reason for that. Anybody else a fan? No…?
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