The Allure of the Six-Cylinder Mazda
In a segment drowning in anonymous, appliance-like crossovers, the 2024 Mazda CX-90 arrived like a shot of espresso. Here was a three-row family hauler with a longitudinal engine layout, a turbocharged inline-six, and ambitions clearly aimed at the German luxury establishment. Our initial track test in Northern Michigan confirmed the hypeâthe CX-90 Turbo S walked away from a five-way comparison, its 340-horsepower heart and sophisticated chassis seemingly rewriting the rules for mainstream SUVs. The Deep Crystal Blue Mica example we welcomed into our fleet for a 40,000-mile shakedown, a flagship Premium Plus trim priced north of $58,000, promised a new benchmark. What followed was a masterclass in dashed expectations, a saga where stunning aesthetics and a sumptuous cabin collided with infuriating dynamics and baffling ergonomics. This isn’t just a review; it’s a forensic examination of a vehicle that consistently wrote checks its driving experience couldn’t cash.
Engineering Under the Skin: Power Train and Platform
Let’s start with the foundation, because mechanically, the CX-90 is a fascinating piece of kit. The heart of the Turbo S is a 3.3-liter turbocharged and intercooled DOHC 24-valve inline-six, an aluminum-block and head gem that produces 340 horsepower at 6000 rpm and a meaty 369 pound-feet of torque from a low 2000 rpm. This isn’t just a numbers game; the longitudinally mounted engine feeds an all-wheel-drive system via an eight-speed automatic transmission. Sandwiched between them is a clutch packâMazda’s implementation of a 48-volt mild-hybrid systemâdesigned to smooth stop-start and improve efficiency. On paper, itâs a coherent, almost European, approach.
But the devil is in the execution. That clutch pack, meant to be seamless, engages and disengages with the subtlety of a seismic event. The transmission itself exhibits a chronic case of indecision, particularly in its default Normal mode. The 1-2 upshift, often occurring around a glacial 1750 rpm, can turn gentle acceleration into a treacly, slurred affair. Itâs as if the software is terrified of using the engine’s substantial mid-range torque. Switching to Sport mode sharpens throttle response, but the gearbox logic remains hesitant, and the steering’s utter lack of feedbackâa numb, slow 17.1:1 rackâannounces impending understeer with all the drama of a weather report. The powertrainâs character is schizophrenic: wide-open throttle unleashes a coarse, agricultural roar from the six-cylinder, followed by a momentary surge of acceleration, only to lapse back into lethargy as the transmission hunts for a gear it clearly doesn’t want to select.
The chassis architecture is sound in theory: front control arms, a rear multilink setup, and large vented disc brakes at all corners. Our test vehicle wore 21-inch Falken Ziex CT60A A/S tires (275/45R-21), a choice that would become a recurring theme of frustration. The suspension tuning, however, is a fundamental misjudgment. It is unapologetically firm, transmitting every pavement imperfection, pothole, and expansion joint as a sharp jolt into the cabin. This is not a sporty, controlled firmness; it’s a harsh, busy roughness that contradicts any notion of premium refinement. For a vehicle weighing nearly 5000 pounds, the ride quality is simply unacceptable, especially when compared to the pliancy of rivals like the Toyota Grand Highlander or the adaptive setups available on European competitors.
Cabin Contradictions: Luxury Materials, Illogical Layout
Open the door, and the CX-90âs saving grace awaits. The interior of our Premium Plus trim is a masterclass in material execution. Soft-touch plastics, genuine metal accents, and beautifully stitched fabric on the dashboard create an ambiance that feels several price classes above. The leather-trimmed seatsâin our case, a caramel hueâare plush and supportive, with ample adjustment. The 12.3-inch digital gauge cluster and infotainment display are crisp and modern. For a moment, you believe youâre in a true luxury SUV.
Then you try to use anything. The infotainment system, controlled by a console-mounted rotary knob and a touchscreen, is a labyrinthine nightmare. Simple tasks become odysseys. Want to tune to a non-preset SiriusXM station? You must navigate: Menu > Entertainment > Menu > Tuner Controls > scroll to find tuning. Checking tire pressures? Information > Vehicle Status Monitor > Maintenance Details (not the similarly named Vehicle Maintenance Settings). This isn’t intuitive; it’s actively hostile. It feels like software from a decade ago, a catastrophic misstep in an era of Tesla’s minimalist screens and BMW’s iDrive evolution. The physical controller, while providing a tactile feel, cannot compensate for a menu structure that requires too many steps for basic functions.
Ergonomics are equally baffling. The three-zone automatic climate control uses separate buttons for up and down temperature adjustments, both of which require a downward pressâa counterintuitive pattern that forces drivers to unlearn a lifetime of muscle memory. The shift lever, a by-wire unit, employs a sideways motion for Park/Reverse and an up/down motion for Reverse/Neutral/Drive, a design that invites errors and expletives. This space-saving shifter consumes precious center console real estate, yet the primary storage bin is shallow and small, barely accommodating a modern smartphone. For a vehicle aimed at families, the lack of clever, covered storage is a major oversight.
The Third-Row Reality Check and Practical Shortcomings
Mazda added 7.5 inches of wheelbase over the outgoing CX-9, yet the third row remains a cramped afterthought. Adults will find it a punishing space for any journey beyond a few miles. Headroom is limited, and legroom is negligible when the second-row seats are in a comfortable position. This puts the CX-90 at a significant disadvantage against segment leaders like the Kia Telluride and Honda Pilot, whose rearmost seats are genuinely usable. The CX-90âs strength is in its first two rows, where the captain’s chairs in our Premium Plus trim offer excellent comfort and the center console adds a touch of executive flair. Cargo space is generous behind the second row (75 cubic feet) but collapses to a meager 16 cubic feet with the third row upâcompetitive but not class-leading.
The towing capacity, rated at 5000 pounds, is a useful figure for an SUV of this size. Our long-termer did pull a trailer, and the observed fuel economy, while impacted, remained respectable. However, the act of towing highlighted the transmission’s reluctance to downshift, requiring careful planning on inclines. The brake controller, a $900 option, is mounted poorly on the lower dash, a perfect target for a kneeling passenger’s knee.
Performance: Numbers vs. Feeling
The spec sheet tells a story of competence. Our 40,000-mile retest showed slight improvements: 0-60 mph dropped from 6.4 to 6.1 seconds, the quarter-mile from 14.9 to 14.5 seconds at 99 mph, skidpad grip improved from 0.81 to 0.83 g, and braking from 70 mph shortened from 176 to 166 feet. These are solid, if not spectacular, figures for a nearly 5000-pound SUV. Fuel economy, a bright spot, settled at an observed 22 mpg overall and a stunning 30 mpg on our 75-mph highway testâbeating the EPA estimate and our long-term Toyota Grand Highlander Hybrid Max. Over 40,000 miles, the CX-90 proved utterly reliable, with only scheduled maintenance and a $1133 tire replacement (more on that) costing us.
But the driving experience is a separate, far more damning report. The CX-90 lacks the playful, connected feel of the beloved CX-9 it replaced. Where the CX-9 felt like a sports sedan in SUV clothing, the CX-90 feels like a luxury land barge with a sporty sticker. The slow steering, pronounced body roll, and constant understeer create a disconnect between driver and machine. The inline-six’s coarse idle and unrefined acceleration under light throttle further erode any sense of occasion. This is a vehicle that asks you to endure its flaws for the sake of its looks and its back-seat comfort. The performance numbers are a mirage; the actual feel is one of lethargy and compromise.
The Tire Tale: A Costly Compromise
Our experience with tires was a microcosm of the entire test. The original CX-90 wore Toyo Open Country A50 all-seasons, which delivered 0.86 g on the skidpad and 172-foot stops. Our replacement vehicle, after an accident, arrived with Falken Ziex CT60A A/S rubber. The difference was night and day: grip dropped to 0.81 g, braking stretched to 176 feet. More alarmingly, the Falkens wore out prematurely. Their 300AA UTQG rating proved accurate; the first set was toast before 30,000 miles, costing $1133 to replace. We switched to Pirelli Scorpion Winter tires for cold weather, which transformed the car’s manners, but the all-season failure was a black mark against Mazda’s specification choices. For a premium SUV, factory-fitted tires should offer better longevity and performance. This wasn’t just a wear issue; it was a fundamental flaw in the CX-90’s spec sheet that directly impacted its dynamic capabilities and long-term ownership cost.
Market Position: A Confused Value Proposition
At a base price of $40,970 and an as-tested $58,630, the CX-90 Turbo S Premium Plus exists in a crowded, competitive no-man’s-land. It’s priced against the Toyota Grand Highlander, Kia Telluride, and Honda Pilotâexcellent, practical, and dynamically superior mainstream options. It also brushes against entry-level luxury SUVs from Acura, Lexus, and even base-model BMW X5s. Mazda’s pitch is that the CX-90 offers premium materials and a six-cylinder powertrain at a mainstream price. The interior materials absolutely deliver on the “premium” promise. The powertrain, however, does not. Its unrefined nature and the transmission’s clumsiness feel a generation behind. The driving dynamics are a step backward from the CX-9 and fall short of the Telluride’s surprising agility or the Grand Highlander’s smoothness.
The CX-90 is a vehicle of profound contradictions. It looks spectacular from every angle, with a sharp, confident stance that turns heads. The cabin, at first glance, could pass for something from Audi. Yet, the moment you drive it, the illusion shatters. You’re left with a heavy, stiff-riding, slow-steering SUV with a clunky infotainment system and a cramped third row. It writes a check with its styling and materials that the driving experience cannot cash. For the enthusiast who values engagement, it’s a crushing disappointment. For the family seeking a comfortable, logical, and spacious people mover, its flaws are deal-breakers.
The Road Ahead: What This Means for Mazda’s Premium Dream
The CX-90 is Mazda’s most significant attempt to ascend into the premium strata. Its architectureâlongitudinal engine, available inline-six, sophisticated suspensionâis the hardware of a luxury brand. But this long-term test exposes a critical gap: the software of refinement, the tuning of engagement, and the human-centric design of controls. Mazda has the sheetmetal and the switchgear, but it lacks the final 10 percent of calibration that defines a true luxury product. The ride comfort, steering feel, and transmission behavior are not up to Audi or BMW standards; they’re not even up to the standards set by Mazda’s own CX-9 a generation prior.
The upcoming 2026 CX-5’s new touch-focused infotainment is a step in the right direction, suggesting Mazda recognizes its interface is a liability. But the core dynamic issuesâthe heavy steering, the stiff ride, the hesitant transmissionâare deeper calibrations that require more than a new screen. They require a philosophical shift. Mazda must decide: is the CX-90 a sporty-luxury SUV or a luxurious-sporty SUV? Right now, it’s neither. It’s a beautiful, well-appointed compromise that fails to excel at either. Until Mazda can fuse its gorgeous design and high-quality interiors with the driving delight that once defined the brand, its premium aspirations will remain just thatâaspirations, not realities.
Verdict: Style Over Substance
After 40,000 miles, the 2024 Mazda CX-90 Turbo S leaves us profoundly let down. It is a vehicle of immense visual and tactile appeal, a cabin that could shame SUVs costing twice as much, and a powertrain with the theoretical grunt to impress. Yet, every time you get behind the wheel, it reminds you of its shortcomings with a jarring shudder, a slow gearshift, a numb steering input, or a frustrating menu dive. The fuel economy is excellent, the reliability is sound, and the build quality is evident. But these are table stakes. In the critical arena of driving enjoyment and daily usability, the CX-90 is outclassed by cheaper mainstream rivals and out of its depth against true luxury entrants. It’s a flagship that lost its way, a beautiful shell housing a deeply frustrating core. Mazda chased the premium badge and forgot the soul. For the enthusiast, that’s the ultimate betrayal.
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