An investigative report into the aerodynamics of a motorised brick.
There was a time, not so very long ago, when you could look at a family SUV and feel absolutely nothing at all. You’d spot a Nissan Qashqai, a Volkswagen Tiguan, or a Ford Kuga parked outside a semi-detached house in Surrey, and your brain would simply refuse to register its existence. They were the automotive equivalent of beige wallpaper; grey, curved, inoffensive blobs of metal explicitly designed to ferry small humans to rugby practice without causing a scene or raising a neighbour's eyebrow. We complained bitterly about them being boring. We begged the car industry for something different. Something bold. Something that stood out in the local Waitrose car park on a rainy Tuesday.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, Hyundai heard our pleas. They listened to our cries for innovation. And in response, they have given us the new 2024 Hyundai Santa Fe. A car so aggressively rectangular, so relentlessly angular, that it looks less like a mode of transport and more like a high-end kitchen appliance that has escaped from Currys PC World and rolled onto the M25 to seek a better life.
Let us be brutally, undeniably honest for a moment: the new Santa Fe is catastrophically, jaw-droppingly, almost admirably ugly. It is a vehicle that defies all conventional logic of automotive design. It is as if the design team in South Korea locked themselves in a windowless room with a crate of exceptionally strong lager, a vintage VHS copy of Minecraft, and a strict, sackable ban on using any drawing implements other than a set square and a spirit level.
The Front End: An Unhealthy Obsession with the Letter 'H'
Let us begin our miserable journey around this rolling brick by examining the front end. Now, corporate identity is important. We all know that a BMW has kidney grilles, and an Aston Martin has that lovely, sweeping mouth. Hyundai, apparently having suffered a severe bout of corporate amnesia, decided that the only way people would know who made this car is if they literally plastered the letter ‘H’ all over the front of it like a proud toddler displaying fridge magnets.
The daytime running lights are shaped like an ‘H’. The lower bumper valence is shaped like an ‘H’. If you look closely enough into the imposing, fortress-like grille, you will probably find hundreds of tiny ‘H’s crying out for help. It’s not so much a car front as it is a sponsored Sesame Street episode. "Today’s terrifying school run commute is brought to you by the letter H!"
Then there is the sheer verticality of the bonnet. It does not slope. It does not curve to gracefully meet the wind. It stands completely upright, presenting a flat, unforgiving wall of steel to the oncoming air. Aerodynamics? Never heard of them, mate. The drag coefficient of this vehicle must be roughly the same as a medium-sized block of flats or an open parachute deployed inside a wind tunnel. If you hit a pheasant on a country B-road in this thing, the poor bird wouldn't roll over the bonnet; it would simply splat against the front like a cartoon coyote hitting a cast-iron frying pan.
The Side Profile: The Aerodynamics of a Skip
Moving around to the side of the Santa Fe, the horror show continues unabated. This is a massive vehicle. It is significantly longer, taller, and wider than the previous generation, making it utterly unsuited for the medieval goat tracks we proudly call roads here in the United Kingdom. If you attempt to navigate this behemoth through a standard multi-storey car park in Birmingham, you will inevitably end up leaving a fair portion of your wing mirror and dignity scraped along a concrete pillar.
The side profile is completely devoid of any interesting lines or organic shapes. Car designers usually employ something called 'flame surfacing'—clever, subtle creases in the metal that catch the light and make a large car look sleeker, lighter, and more dynamic. The Santa Fe’s designers simply took a ruler, a very thick marker pen, and drew a straight line from the headlights all the way to the tailgate. It has the exact proportions of a shipping container, or perhaps a very expensive, motorised builder's skip.
Even the wheel arches are octagonal. Octagonal! Wheels, last time I checked the laws of physics, are circular. Putting a perfectly round wheel inside an octagonal arch makes the car look like it's constantly surprised. It’s as if it woke up one morning, looked in a shop window reflection, and suddenly realised the sheer magnitude of what it looked like.
And let’s not even dwell on the C-pillar handle. Hyundai has added a hidden grab handle behind the rear doors so you can hoist yourself up to access the roof rack. Because apparently, Hyundai’s marketing department believes the typical Santa Fe driver is a rugged outdoorsman constantly popping up onto the roof to strap down a bespoke canoe, rather than Colin from accounts just using the massive boot to carry a few bags of premium potting soil from the local garden centre.
The Rear End: The Absolute Scene of the Crime
If you thought the front and sides were questionable, I suggest you sit down, pour yourself a stiff cup of Yorkshire tea, and mentally prepare yourself for the rear of the new Santa Fe. This is, without a shadow of an exaggeration, the most baffling piece of car design to grace British roads since the fateful launch of the SsangYong Rodius or the Pontiac Aztek.
It is entirely flat. It is a massive, unbroken, terrifying sheet of metal that looks like a blank billboard waiting for a local roofer to slap a vinyl advertisement on it. You could easily project a full-length feature film onto the tailgate of this car. It is the vehicular equivalent of a forehead that is just slightly too large for its face.
But the true, unadulterated catastrophe lies in the taillights. Usually, taillights are positioned at eye level, roughly halfway up the boot lid, so the bloke tailgating you on the M1 in a leased Audi A3 actually knows when you are braking. Hyundai, however, in a moment of pure madness, has decided to mount the taillights right down at the absolute bottom of the bumper, hovering precariously just above the exhaust pipe.
The visual effect is utterly disastrous. It makes the car look bottom-heavy and incredibly sad. It gives the impression of a giant who has worn his trousers so low that they are dragging along the pavement. It looks like a commercial transit van that has been converted into a hearse by an amateur who didn’t own a tape measure. When you follow one of these cars in heavy traffic, it looks completely disproportionate; the indicator lights are so dangerously low to the tarmac they practically scrape the cat's eyes. You half expect them to detach over a particularly vicious speed bump.
The "Defender" Delusion
It is blindingly obvious what Hyundai was trying to achieve here. They looked at the runaway, astronomical success of the new Land Rover Defender and the Mercedes G-Wagon. They saw that wealthy buyers in London, Surrey, and Cheshire were falling over themselves to buy expensive, boxy, rugged-looking SUVs. So, Hyundai decided they wanted a large, profitable piece of that pie. They wanted to make a rugged off-roader to appeal to the weekend glamping crowd.
The monumental problem is that the Land Rover Defender has actual heritage. It looks the way it does because it evolved from a military-grade agricultural vehicle that was explicitly designed to cross deserts, traverse mountain ranges, and assist in farm labour. The Hyundai Santa Fe, on the other hand, evolved from a friendly, curved soft-roader primarily designed to safely traverse the vicious speed bumps outside a primary school.
When the Defender goes boxy, it looks authentic, purposeful, and tough. When the Santa Fe goes boxy, it looks like it’s wearing a Halloween costume. It’s exactly like watching a mild-mannered accountant put on a pair of heavy Timberland boots, a lumberjack shirt, and carry a prop axe just to go and prune his prize-winning roses in the suburbs. It’s trying entirely too hard to be something it fundamentally isn't, and the charade is painfully transparent to everyone watching.
The Supermarket Sweep: Parking a Behemoth
We must also discuss the day-to-day reality of living with a vehicle that possesses the dimensions of a small canal boat. Taking the new Santa Fe to the local supermarket is an exercise in high-stakes geometry. British parking spaces were largely painted in the 1980s, designed to comfortably accommodate an Austin Maestro or an early Ford Fiesta.
When you attempt to slot this sprawling expanse of Korean steel between a dusty Nissan Micra and an aggressively parked Range Rover Sport, you will sweat. You will rely entirely on the myriad of 360-degree cameras and beeping sensors, including adaptive cruise control assist and parking sensors, because visually judging where the corners of this car end is like trying to guess the exact location of a distant coastline through thick fog. And once you do manage to park it, getting out requires the flexibility of an Olympic gymnast, as you contort your body through a door gap no wider than a letterbox to avoid dinging the car next to you.
The Tragic Irony: It’s Absolutely Brilliant Inside
Now, as an impartial judge of motoring, I must be fair. I have to balance the sheer, unfiltered vitriol directed at the exterior styling with a grudging, painful admission about the interior. The tragic, bitter irony of the new Hyundai Santa Fe is that, once you open the heavy door, close your eyes, and climb inside, it is absolutely spectacular.
The cabin is a triumph of modern engineering and ergonomics. It’s spacious enough to comfortably hold a small village fete. The materials are undeniably premium, the twin digital screens are crisp and responsive, enhanced by physical shortcut buttons that improve usability, and there is a cleverly designed cubby hole for absolutely everything. They even have a built-in UV-C sterilization tray in the glovebox—presumably so you can intensely disinfect your hands after being forced to touch the exterior door handles.
Front seats are comfortable, featuring heated front seats and a memory function, while the head-up display and wireless phone charger demonstrate Hyundai's commitment to standard equipment quality. Meanwhile, Apple CarPlay is standard throughout the range, ensuring your smartphone integrates seamlessly with the infotainment system.
It is comfortable, eerily quiet, and immensely practical. You can fold all the rear seats down and genuinely sleep in it, which is handy, should you be kicked out of your house by your spouse for bringing such an ugly car onto the driveway. Boot space is generous, helping this seven-seat SUV stand apart from competitors. Also, the powered tailgate adds an extra touch of convenience for family life.
Importantly, the new Santa Fe now comes with a sophisticated hybrid system option, including a plug-in hybrid variant offering improved electric range and efficiency, while four-wheel drive is optionally available to bolster traction in tougher conditions.
This sheer brilliance only makes the exterior styling more depressing. It’s like finding out that the world’s most talented Michelin-star chef operates out of a dilapidated portaloo. The food is incredible, the service is flawless, but you really have to hold your nose and close your eyes on the way in.
When you are driving the Santa Fe, you are bathed in automotive luxury. But you must always live with the terrifying, looming knowledge that, eventually, you will have to park the car, get out, lock the doors, and look back at it. And every single time you do, a small part of your soul will wither and die.
The Verdict: A Brave Disaster
There is a famous saying in the design world: "Form follows function." The fundamental idea is that the shape of a building or an object should primarily relate to its intended function or purpose. With the new Hyundai Santa Fe, form has taken function round the back of a shed, given it a thoroughly good kicking, and then built a square box out of spite to hide the evidence.
We asked car designers to stop making boring, homogenous jelly moulds. We asked for character. Hyundai has certainly given us character, but unfortunately, the character they chose is 'the mute, square-jawed villain's henchman in a low-budget 1980s sci-fi movie'.
Is it the ugliest car on sale today? That is a highly competitive, fiercely fought field. The BMW XM is currently doing its absolute best to look like a furious, over-styled metallic pig, and the Tesla Cybertruck looks like a low-polygon doorstop rendered on a PlayStation 1. But the Santa Fe hurts infinitely more because Hyundai was on such an incredible winning streak. The Ioniq 5 is a retro-futuristic masterpiece. The Tucson is genuinely handsome. They had the magic touch, and then, inexplicably, they dropped it into a cube-shaped blender.
If you buy a new Santa Fe, you will undoubtedly be treated to a fantastic, hyper-practical, and incredibly reliable family car. But you will also have to accept that you are driving a rolling architectural mistake. You will have to get used to the strange, pitiful looks from other parents at the school gates. You will have to accept that, from the rear, people will constantly mistake you for a DPD delivery driver who has taken a wrong turn in a very, very square van.
It is bold, it is different, and it is undeniably brave. But sometimes, bravery is just stupidity dressed up in a fancy suit. Or in this particular case, a very, very square suit.
