In a past life I spent a lot of time working on the launch of the Toyota C-HR. I could spend this time telling you how the C-HR was initially supposed to be a Scion, but was then re-rebranded as a Toyota when Scion shuttered. Or I could talk about how the original marketing strategy was to target “luxury aspirationalists,” or some other convoluted name like that. I could also maybe spend a paragraph explaining what an “aspirationalist” is. But instead, I’ll take a second to dive into the stuff that interested me as a car guy.

The things, and access, that excite me as a car journalist don’t exist in ad land. So it was an incredibly rare treat to sit down with the C-HR’s chief engineer, Hiroyuki Koba, and lead designer Ian Cartabiano, to get the full backstory of the car. With Koba-san, I got to dive into his racing background, and how this small crossover-thingy was designed with the spirit of a sports car, with a driver-focused cockpit and sport-tuned suspension. Hell, his team even took a prototype C-HR to the 24 Hours of Nurburgring as part of the development process.

And as a design nerd, the talks I had with Cartabiano were just as intriguing. There’s the functional stuff, like how that massive wing is designed to direct airflow in such a way that it doesn’t coat the back window in dust. Or how the shapes were so complex, new manufacturing methods had to be created in order to make this hyper-angular design a reality. But what spoke to me most was Cartabiano’s enthusiasm for the C-HR’s polarizing nature. Toyota historically is a brand that plays it safe, so for the lead designer to, in so many words, say he’s cool with a passionate dislike for the design… Well, it speaks volumes about Toyota’s larger initiative to actually stop making appliances and start taking chances.

Personally, I am a fan of the C-HR’s design. It’s like a sculpted, shaved, and honed chunk of metal, with the light housings feeling as if they were extruded from the corners. The shape is blistered in just the right places to make this subcompact crossover visually feel like a much larger vehicle. But I can also see how it can feel like it’s all a bit too much - especially when compared to the tamer Toyotas that came after.

Move inside and things feel a bit more normal. The overall look and feel makes simplicity feel stylish; the dash is clean and without fuss, and the various controls are intuitive to use. Color and texture are used sparingly to bring bold, yet restrained, accents throughout the cabin. The front seats are great, offering lots of comfort and generous side support, and true to Koba-san’s word, the driving position feels natural.

But spend more time with the C-HR, and it quickly becomes apparent that this car wasn’t designed with backseat passengers in mind. Where things feel open up front, the rear is incredibly claustrophobic, with slit-like windows and an oversized C-pillar that envelops the area in darkness. Head and legroom are lacking, and with the rear seats up, so is cargo space. But hey, if you’re part of a young, active, urban couple who only needs two seats to seek out the adventure in the everyday, this is your vehicle. Er, sorry. Old habits coming up again... But in all seriousness, if you’re the type who always has someone riding in the back seat - like, I don’t know, kids - look elsewhere.

And despite that racecar provenance, performance is a mixed bag. The bones that underpin the C-HR are superb - it’s the same G-AC/TNGA platform that can be found in both the current Toyota Corolla and Lexus UX200. Same wheelbase and all, so it should come as no surprise that Toyota has spent an excessive amount of time getting the chassis tuning just right. The chassis itself is pretty good, offering a solid, smooth ride and agile handling. As with all modern cars, the steering is accurate, though it could stand to feel more communicative.

The real downfall to the driving experience, as you’d expect, comes from the drivetrain. Underneath the C-HR’s chiseled bonnet is a wheezy 2.0-liter inline four rated at just 144 horsepower. It gets worse: the only transmission available is an underwhelming CVT which tries its damndest to ensure those 144 ponies are corralled at all times. So yeah, it’s slow at all speeds, in all areas of the powerband - if you can call it that. And since it’s EPA-rated at just 29 mpg combined, it’s not like this powertrain is doing much to save the Earth or anything like that.

So, my own nostalgia glasses aside, the C-HR just leaves me feeling confused. From the styling, to the interior, to the inspiration behind the handling, it gets a lot of things right. But then I can also see how the product planners outright murdered some good ideas in order to potentially get more market share.

I also can’t help but wonder if the C-HR is long for this world. It is, essentially, a lifted Corolla hatch. But with the recent announcement of the Corolla-based Corolla Cross crossover, I wouldn’t be surprised to see the C-HR get the axe to make room for the more traditional-looking ‘Rolla SUV. I bet someone, somewhere, already has a deck saying how it will be the perfect vehicle for “rugged potentialists,” or whatever it is they’re calling car buyers these days.

Highlights	Description
Engine	2.0-liter 4-Cylinder DOHC 16-Valve with Valvematic
Horsepower	144 @ 6100 rpm
Torque	139 lb-ft @ 3900 rpm
Transmission	CVT with Intelligence and Shift Mode (CVTi-S)
Suspension, F/R	Independent MacPherson strut/Multi-link
Brakes, F/R	11.7-in. vented discs/11.1-in. solid discs
Wheels and Tires	18-in. alloy, 225/50R18 all-season tires
Curb weight	3060 lbs.
Overall length	172.6 in.
Overall width	70.7 in.
Overall height	61.6 in.
Wheelbase	103.9 in.

Toyota C-HR Limited Review