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Geely Galaxy Cruiser Coming to Britain

If you were betting on who’d take the next swing at the Land Rover Defender and Mercedes-Benz G-Class, Geely probably wasn’t your first pick. But that’s exactly what the Chinese auto giant is doing with the Galaxy Cruiser—a square-jawed, tech-heavy SUV that looks ready to muscle into the luxury off-road club. And yes, it’s headed for the UK.

First shown at last year’s Shanghai motor show, the Galaxy Cruiser currently wears a “concept” badge, but only just. According to Geely design studio director Flavien Dachet, the production version is effectively locked in, with Chinese sales slated to begin before the end of the year. Exports will follow, and Geely Auto UK marketing boss Yan Tianxiao has made one thing clear: Britain is firmly on the list.

“We will definitely launch that car in the UK,” he said—no hedging, no qualifiers.

That confidence makes sense, because under the Galaxy Cruiser’s rugged styling sits hardware Geely knows well. The SUV rides on the SEA-R platform, the same architecture underpinning the Zeekr 9X and the plug-in hybrid version of the Lotus Eletre. This isn’t a body-on-frame dinosaur revival; it’s a modern, electrified foundation designed to scale from luxury road cruisers to something far more dirt-friendly.

According to Dachet, the Galaxy Cruiser pushes that platform harder than its siblings ever have. Testing in China’s deserts reportedly exceeded expectations, suggesting that this isn’t just a fashion-forward soft-roader wearing hiking boots for Instagram.

On paper, the concept certainly looks the part. There’s independent active suspension capable of controlling each wheel individually—useful when traction is scarce and terrain is unpredictable—along with steer-by-wire and brake-by-wire systems. Claimed wading depth is an eyebrow-raising 800 mm, which puts it squarely in Defender territory and well beyond what most “lifestyle SUVs” dare to promise.

Then there’s the AI layer. Geely says the Galaxy Cruiser uses artificial intelligence to support its advanced driver-assistance systems, helping identify obstacles and suggesting safer paths through tricky terrain. Importantly, it won’t override the driver’s inputs—a reassuring note in a world where autonomy marketing sometimes gets ahead of reality—but it’s clearly meant to act as a digital spotter for less experienced off-roaders.

Powertrain details remain officially unconfirmed, but the blueprint is already familiar. Expect the same plug-in hybrid setup used by the Zeekr 9X and Lotus Eletre PHEV: a turbocharged 2.0-litre four-cylinder petrol engine paired with a substantial battery pack, reportedly around 70 kWh. Geely claims an electric-only range of up to 220 miles, though that figure comes from China’s CLTC test cycle, which is far more optimistic than Europe’s WLTP standard. Translate that to the real world, and expectations should be dialed back accordingly.

Still, even a conservative estimate would put the Galaxy Cruiser among the longest-legged PHEVs on sale. With three electric motors in the Zeekr 9X—and all signs pointing to a similar configuration here—four-wheel drive is a given. Power output hasn’t been announced, but the benchmarks are telling: the 9X produces a frankly absurd 1381 horsepower, while the Eletre PHEV is expected to land around 912 bhp. The Galaxy Cruiser may not chase those numbers outright, but “underpowered” won’t be part of its vocabulary.

What’s more interesting is where Geely positions this thing philosophically. Despite its blocky proportions and unmistakable 4×4 silhouette, the Galaxy Cruiser isn’t pitched as a hardcore rock crawler. Dachet openly admits the design team studied the usual suspects—the Defender, G-Wagen, and Ford Bronco—before crafting their own interpretation.

“There’s always the same recipes,” he said. “The codes are the same. It’s how we interpret it in a way that’s recognisable.”

That interpretation leans more toward luxury and family use than mud-plugging bravado. Think less overlanding purist, more premium all-terrain Swiss Army knife. In other words, it’s aimed at buyers who like the idea of rugged capability, even if the toughest obstacle they’ll face most days is a flooded country lane or a snowed-in driveway.

For Geely, the Galaxy Cruiser represents new ground. The company has spent years mastering electric platforms and premium sub-brands, but the rugged luxury SUV space—long dominated by European icons—has remained largely untouched. Breaking into that club won’t be easy. Brand cachet still matters here, and buyers spending Defender or G-Class money tend to be conservative with their loyalties.

But Geely has something those incumbents don’t: scale, speed, and a willingness to rethink what an off-road luxury SUV can be in an electrified era. If the production Galaxy Cruiser delivers on even half of its promises—and arrives in the UK at a competitive price—it could become a serious disruptor.

Whether traditionalists are ready for a high-tech, AI-assisted, plug-in hybrid challenger wearing a Geely badge is another question entirely. But one thing’s certain: the Defender and G-Wagen won’t be the only names in this fight for much longer.

Source: Autocar

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Fiat’s Radical Idea for City Cars: Slow Them Down Instead of Loading Them Up

If you’ve priced a modern city car lately and wondered how something so small got so expensive, Fiat CEO Olivier François thinks he knows exactly why—and he’s got a solution that sounds almost heretical in today’s arms race of sensors and silicon. His proposal? Forget stuffing city cars with ever-more advanced driver-assistance systems. Just cap their top speed at 73 mph.

Yes, really.

Speaking candidly about the impact of EU safety regulations, François said he would “happily” limit the maximum speed of Fiat’s urban-focused models—the 500, Panda, and Grande Panda—as a way to avoid fitting them with costly ADAS hardware that he believes adds little real-world benefit for how these cars are actually used. The argument is refreshingly blunt: most of the mandated tech is designed for high-speed driving, while city cars live their lives well below that threshold.

It’s hard to argue with the usage case. These cars spend their days dodging scooters, hunting for parking spaces, and rarely seeing the far side of 50 mph. Designing them to safely cruise at autobahn speeds—and then loading them with cameras, sensors, and computing power to manage that capability—starts to look like engineering theater.

François’s frustration centers on cost. According to him, the cumulative effect of these regulations has driven the average price of a city car up by around 60 percent in the past five or six years. That’s a staggering increase for vehicles whose core appeal has always been affordability, simplicity, and accessibility—especially for younger buyers and urban commuters.

“I don’t think that city cars in 2018 or 2019 were extremely dangerous,” François said, pushing back against the notion that more hardware automatically equals more safety. From his perspective, the industry hasn’t so much improved city cars as overburdened them.

The irony is that even without a speed cap, Fiat’s smallest models aren’t exactly autobahn missiles. None of them can officially crack 100 mph, and the electric Grande Panda is already limited to 82 mph. Dropping that ceiling to 73 mph—118 km/h, which happens to be the average maximum legal speed limit across Europe—would be more symbolic than transformative.

And that symbolism is the point. François questions why a car should be over-engineered to exceed legal speed limits in the first place. Most ADAS systems, after all, are developed with high-speed scenarios in mind. Lane-centering on highways, adaptive cruise control at triple-digit speeds, complex sign recognition—all impressive, all expensive, and all arguably excessive for a car designed to commute across town.

In that context, a speed limiter starts to look like a refreshingly analog solution to a digital problem. By defining a hard ceiling aligned with legal limits, Fiat could potentially sidestep some of the requirements that drive up costs, keeping city cars closer to their original mission.

François also welcomed the EU’s proposal for a new “M1E” category for small cars, which would acknowledge that a one-size-fits-all approach to safety regulation doesn’t make sense across every segment. City cars aren’t compact crossovers, and they’re certainly not executive sedans. Treating them as such, he argues, undermines their sustainability—financially and philosophically.

That word, sustainability, matters here. François describes city cars as “democratic” vehicles: small, inexpensive, and accessible. Price them out of reach, and buyers don’t upgrade to something slightly larger—they often move to the used market or abandon new cars altogether. In a market already struggling with affordability, especially for younger drivers, that’s a problem regulators may not have fully reckoned with.

Of course, Fiat wouldn’t be alone in using speed limitation as a safety strategy. Volvo famously capped all of its cars at 112 mph back in 2020 as part of its Vision Zero initiative. The difference is scale and intent. Volvo’s move targeted high-speed behavior in premium cars; Fiat’s would reshape the definition of what a city car is allowed to be.

Whether regulators would accept a lower top speed in lieu of advanced safety tech remains an open question. Safety policy tends to move in one direction—more systems, more redundancy, more rules—and rarely backtracks. François’s proposal challenges that momentum by suggesting that smarter regulation might mean less, not more.

It’s a provocative idea, and one that cuts against the grain of modern automotive development. But in a world where simplicity has become a luxury and “basic transportation” is anything but cheap, Fiat’s suggestion feels less like penny-pinching and more like a plea for common sense.

Limit the speed. Lower the cost. Build cars for how people actually drive. It’s a very Italian solution to a very modern problem—and it just might be crazy enough to work.

Source: Fiat

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Inside BMW’s Plan to Engineer Emotion Into the Electric M3

BMW has finally said the quiet part out loud: its first electric M car will cheat. Not on performance—Munich wouldn’t dare—but on sensation. Synthetic gearshifts and synthesized sound will be part of the experience when the electric M3 arrives toward the end of 2027, and BMW is unapologetic about it.

The car in question is an all-electric M3 built on BMW’s upcoming Neue Klasse EV architecture, closely related to the next-generation i3. And according to Dominik Suckart, BMW’s head of high-voltage batteries, this won’t be just another fast EV wearing an M badge. “We have a legacy to continue,” he says—corporate speak, yes, but also a clear acknowledgment that M cars live or die by how they feel, not just how hard they launch.

That philosophy explains why BMW is leaning into synthetic interaction rather than pretending physics alone will do the talking. The electric M3 will use artificial shift points and sound profiles to give drivers something familiar to lean on, much like Hyundai’s surprisingly convincing setup in the Ioniq 5 N and Ioniq 6 N. That comparison isn’t accidental. Hyundai’s N division was originally run by Albert Biermann, formerly of BMW M, and the electric Ioniq 6 N may be the closest philosophical rival the M3 EV will face.

Unlike the twin-motor Hyundai setup, BMW is going all-in with four motors—one per wheel—each with its own inverter and reduction gearbox. Everything is overseen by a single control brain, allowing precise torque vectoring that would make a mechanical limited-slip differential blush. BMW still isn’t talking numbers, but with a quad-motor layout and a battery north of 100 kWh, expect output that comfortably clears today’s gas-powered M3—and probably embarrasses it in a straight line.

But straight-line speed is table stakes now. BMW’s bigger concern is engagement. That’s where a bespoke software suite called M Dynamic Performance Control comes in. Suckart promises “never-seen-before handling and traction control,” which is a bold claim in a world where every performance EV already claims millisecond responses and infinite adjustability.

The trick here is flexibility. The electric M3 will be able to run as a full all-wheel-drive car, switch to rear-wheel drive for track use or drifting, and even operate in a range-extending RWD mode for everyday driving. In other words, it won’t just be configurable—it’ll be shape-shifting.

At the center of all this is BMW’s intriguingly named “Heart of Joy” control unit, first shown in the Vision Driving Experience concept. It consolidates drivetrain, chassis, and dynamics controls into a single high-performance computer, reducing latency and making the car’s responses feel more immediate and cohesive. BMW wants this EV to react like a great M car always has: intuitively, predictably, and with a touch of mischief when you ask for it.

The battery itself is doing more than just storing energy. BMW says it will be capable of delivering high sustained output—not just short bursts—and, crucially, will continue to recuperate energy even under extreme deceleration at the limits of grip. That’s an engineering flex aimed squarely at track-day credibility, where many EVs still fade or behave inconsistently once the tires and brakes are fully loaded.

Structurally, the M3 EV gets unique treatment as well. The battery housing is a stressed member of the chassis and will be mounted to both the front and rear axles, rather than only the rear as in the standard i3-based models. The goal is improved rigidity and more consistent handling—again, chasing feel rather than spec-sheet dominance.

Weight, however, remains the elephant in the room. Modern M cars are already portly—the plug-in hybrid M5 tips the scales at nearly 2.5 tons—and EVs don’t exactly help that narrative. BMW says it’s attacking the problem creatively, using natural-fiber composites in place of carbon fiber where possible, a technique already employed on the M4 GT4 race car. Besides reducing mass, these materials carry a 40-percent lower CO₂ footprint than carbon fiber, which neatly aligns with the Neue Klasse’s sustainability messaging.

Whether buyers are truly ready for an electric performance sedan that relies on synthesized drama is still an open question. The market’s response to high-end EVs has been enthusiastic but uneven, especially among traditional enthusiasts. Suckart, for his part, seems unconcerned. “We’re excited about it,” he says, “and I think you can be excited too.”

Perhaps the most telling detail, though, is what BMW isn’t abandoning. Alongside the electric M3, the company has strongly hinted that a more traditional gasoline-powered option will remain, using an updated version of the beloved B58 turbocharged inline-six. That’s BMW hedging its bets—and wisely so.

The electric M3 won’t replace the idea of an M car. It’s BMW’s attempt to translate it. And if that translation requires a few well-tuned digital illusions to keep the soul intact, Munich seems perfectly comfortable pressing “simulate.”

Source: BMW

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