The Volvo EX90 arrives in South Africa like a concept car that accidentally became real. It’s clean, it’s calm, it’s beautifully put together. Park it anywhere and people stop, stare, and take a second look.
This thing looks expensive because it is. Around R2.6 million of Scandinavian confidence. And on first glance, it absolutely feels worth it.
Then you try to live with it.
Let’s start with the one thing that defines this car… electricity.

The EX90 wants a proper fast charger. The kind that can dump serious power into the battery in minutes. Instead, where I live, the local mall proudly offers a “fast” charger… just not the kind you’re hoping for.
It’s not the big-city, blink-and-you’re-done version. It’s more of a “grab a coffee, do your shopping, take your time” situation.
Some cars can take a solid burst of power and get moving quickly. Here? You need to commit. Properly. Because what should feel like a quick spark turns into a long, slow simmer.
To put that into real-world terms: adding 150 km in a petrol Volvo XC90 takes roughly 15 litres. A fuel pump delivers that in seconds. You barely have time to check your messages.

Here? You could shoot a full VMAG feature, edit it, upload it… and still be waiting.
And yes, you can go the home setup route. Solar, wall box, the whole “I am my own Eskom” starter pack. It works. But it’s not cheap, and it’s not always reliable. Especially when the sun decides to clock out early.
So already, before you’ve even driven anywhere interesting, the EX90 has turned mobility into a scheduling exercise.
Now, step inside.
This is where things go from futuristic… to slightly absurd.
There are almost no buttons.
Everything lives inside a screen. A big, crisp, beautiful screen that expects you to do everything through it.
Want to open a window? First select which window. Then open it. Adjust mirrors? Dive into menus. Change airflow? Scroll, tap, confirm, hope.

It’s like your car replaced simple actions with admin.
And here’s the problem… cars don’t live on perfectly smooth roads here. They live on real roads. Bumpy ones. Busy ones. Ones where your attention belongs outside the car, not inside a touchscreen maze.
Trying to navigate menus while driving feels like texting while jogging on a gravel road. You might manage it… but it’s not exactly clever.
Which makes the biggest irony hit even harder.
This is a Volvo. Safety is supposed to be the headline act. Yet here you are, eyes off the road, digging through digital layers just to adjust something that used to be a simple twist or press.
The car even reminds you to “pay attention” while you’re busy trying to figure out where Volvo hid basic functions.
Comedy. Unintentional, but still.
Then there’s connectivity.
Instead of everything just working seamlessly, there’s a dongle involved. Yes, a physical little device tucked away to keep things online. It froze more than once. Each time needing the old-school unplug-and-reset trick.

On a R2.6 million car.
That’s not cutting-edge. That’s 2008 office printer energy.
And yet…
Here’s the twist.
Strip away the charging frustrations, the interface gymnastics, and the occasional tech tantrum… and the EX90 is genuinely impressive.
It’s quiet in a way that feels expensive. The ride is smooth. The cabin is a lovely place to be. It feels like a proper luxury SUV that just happens to run on electrons instead of fuel.
But that “just happens to” part is the catch.
Because in this environment, that one detail changes everything.
The EX90 isn’t a bad car. Not even close. In the right conditions, it’s brilliant.
But here, right now, it feels like a perfectly tailored suit worn to a muddy rugby match.
Technically impressive.
Completely out of place.
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