DS7 plug-in hybrid: who makes DS cars and should you buy one?
I cannot yet decide whether I owe the DS7 an apology or a debt of thanks after ten days of having it haul my family of four up and down to St Ives and back with pit stops in Padstow for Rick Stein’s fish and chips (naturally) and then over to Wales for good measure. If this thing has been given a tougher test by a family of four, I’d be amazed. From long stretches of motorway miles to nipping onto St Ives harbour and back around the Digey, there, to barrelling around the Welsh hills and hollows - we threw the kitchen sink at it.
But, hang on: what’s a DS? Who makes those? Well, if you’re anything like me, you will have spotted a DS or two on your motoring travels and thought to yourself: I like that, I wonder what it was. When the DS7 arrived, I sent a photo of it to my friends Whatsapp group. One reply was: ‘that looks like a seriously good motor. Not a clue what it is, mind!’ Genuinely.
Let me give you the shortened version: DSs are a standalone brand that is just 10 years old, spun out of Citroen but now, determined to make a name for itself, it has grown up, left the family home and is looking to make its own mark on the motoring world.
Now, bear with me, here, because, as Michael Caine once said in a roundabout fashion: not a lot of people know this. In my previous life I drove and reviewed cars as part of my brief as a journalist. I’ve driven Bentleys, Range Rovers and BMWs, Volvos, Volkswagens and Vauxhalls - from Hondas to Hyundais, I’ve driven a lot of cars but back then it was for the driving experience. The performance. The je ne sais quoi. Now, my wife and I have been together for 20 years and we have two primary school-aged boys. So, now, when I test a car, it’s for the mums and dads. Not those who think they’re Jeremy Clarkson - less the beer belly.
So, the car: when it arrived, the first thing that really struck me was the gargantuan, gaping grille. The thing stares at you like an open-mouthed whale shark on the prowl, with sharp angles and confident lines, pulling together narrow headlights that peer out like squinted eyes. If you were to spot one hurtling towards you on the motorway in your rear-view mirror, you’d leap out of the way for fear of being devoured.
The second thing that struck me was that on the model delivered - DS7 Performance Line+ E-Tense 225 - the battery that powers the electric motors as part of its plug-in hybrid functionality wasn’t charged; I don’t have a home charger and we were leaving for St Ives, a 365-mile trip, at 1am the next morning, so I’d no time to nip off and charge it myself.
C’est la vie; off we went with two large suitcases in the boot, two large Berghaus beach chairs, a windbreak, a beach trolly, beach bag, two body boards, cool bag, coats and a few other bits and bobs. In other words, the boot space on the DS7 is more than plenty for family life.
Immediately I was struck by the sheer silence of the thing. Bear in mind I’ve sat in the cabins of some plush marques and yet this one, with its 1.6l turbocharged petrol engine stands out. It whispers along on the motorways. Large parts of the M5 are 50mph roadwork zones and, honestly, I’ve been in noisier libraries than this thing when sitting at 50mph. It’s a beautifully serene drive when driven for economy. I scanned around for reasons why, and, by way of example, the door pockets are lined with a felt-like material and there are rubber mats inside the cup holders. All there to soak up sound, and it works.
All around the interior are touches of quality and style: from nappa leather to ventilated alcantara-esque heated seats. Only a dodgy flash of what looks like scrunched up tinfoil around the centre console lets it down inside because other than that, you’re in a genuinely top class cabin.
So: so far we have a well-equipped, superbly silent, roomy family car which flirts, inside and out, with the luxurious and that without its battery charged (not my fault) delivered for me, when packed to the gunwales and carrying four people, 40mpg when driven in a Mother Teresa-like fashion. The ride feels taught and poised yet the drive is easy and comfortable, and I think all of those things combined ought to appeal to most people.
Putting on my car testers’ cap from yesteryear, the 8-speed autobox on this thing needs a more deft fettle from the engineers. When you ask it for a change of pace it dithers and delays for an agonising period of time, hesitating like a pensioner at a pelican crossing before engaging and offering some intent, and that’s a problem for the DS team’s ambitions to disrupt the luxury SUV market where the likes of Audi, Volvo, BMW, Mercedes et al are all sitting pretty. That said, it’s a quibble that mums and dads won’t mind and most won’t even notice.
But I wouldn’t be doing Stellantis - the owners of the DS brand - any favours if I didn’t give this plug-in hybrid a full review, batteries included, so off we went to an old friend’s house in Chepstow where he has an Ohme charger installed and we could power up overnight. The spec sheet suggests 58-64 miles of electric range when fully charged; once it was fully charged, the dashboard fessed up the truth: 33 miles of pure electric range on a hot summer’s day. For that, Octopus charged us 93 English pence, so 3p per mile. The drive from Chepstow to home was 180 miles and that battery charge stayed with us every mile of the way - just - chipping in discreetly and improving the economy to 55mpg, which for the size and quality of the DS7 - a car that has 225bhp and a 0-60 time of 8.9s - is impressive.
So, in short, if style, comfort, quality and serenity are your thing, before you shell out for one of the established big guns, I’d recommend you at least pop your head in to DS’s 10th birthday party celebrations. I promise you’ll be impressed.