I have lots of thoughts about this stunning disappointment, which also happens to be an EV
2024 Honda Prologue review by The Road Beat
Words and pictures: Mitchell Weitzman
In terms of initial quality, the new Honda Prologue ranks among the absolute worst of any new car I've tested. And with only a few thousand miles on the odometer, this does not bode well for how these vehicles will age—destined, most likely (and most unfriendly to the environment), to become lithium paperweights. Apart from its lacking efficiency, nothing about this car being electric is the problem. Rather, it's an overpriced tub of mediocrity, even in this top-shelf Elite trim level. Then again, is this even Honda’s fault? After all, this isn’t actually a Honda at all—it's built on a Chevrolet platform with a GM propulsion system. Hondas are typically rock-solid, so blame can at least be deferred to General Motors and the bowtie brand for this laughable attempt at a car. If you think I'm being harsh, then just wait until you watch the video below.
That might just be the single most critical and vengeful paragraph I've written as a car reviewer, but when you step inside a car costing $60,000, expectations are, well, expected. And wowza, did this Prologue fail. Instead of writing out all the failing details and cheapness abound—which you probably think I'm exaggerating—here’s a video with a few key highlights to ponder:
A video tour of all the problems inside the Honda Prologue
Right? The plastic that encompasses the entire console between the front occupants isn’t just econo-car cheap; it’s more in line with a 15-year-old Hyundai Accent kind of economy crapbox. It’s the worst plastic I’ve seen in any new car recently, and it’s incredibly prone to scratching and damage. That plastic alone—and it’s all over the doors, too—looked like this car had years of use and miles, not just a couple of months. Adding to the highly questionable build quality is an interior with numerous noticeable rattles, despite the fresh age of this test example.
The steering wheel features large metal inlays, which look nice and expensive on the surface, but they’re placed too close to the edges of the wheel. If you drive with your hands at 9 and 3, the metal impedes your palm space. On top of that, the metal gets terribly cold in the winter, and I reckon it’ll get even more unbearably hot when baking in the summer sun. And because of how wide it extends, avoiding it will be difficult if you have larger hands.
And on top of that, the tailgate closes with an abundance of mechanical noise post-closure—something I’ve never heard before in a car, leaving me wondering if it was broken. I kid you not—after the abnormally hard and harsh clang of it closing, there are several more seconds of 'noises' that led me to believe it wasn’t finished shutting. Besides the cheap plastic all over inside, the front seats are undersized for even my modest 5'10", 160-pound frame, offering the support of a child’s seat or one that clearly was not designed for or tested by any man. I’m a small bloke, but my shoulders extend beyond the bolsters, and the seat feels like a small stool under me. And when driving, even the mildest of corners had my torso twisting and falling out of the seat’s confines.
Resting in the center of the dash, the large infotainment display is mostly straightforward and not worth writing home about, but curiously, the seek button while listening to satellite radio changes position once you press it. So if you’re driving and change the channel from, say, 33 to 35 — bouncing between 1980s New Wave and modern indie rock like I do —the digital seek icon moves after the first press from the left side of the screen to the center. Really. That means you have to watch the screen just to perform a simple operation because why on earth would, or should, a seek button literally move? The volume controls on the steering wheel are actually behind the three o'clock spoke on the right-hand side and are easy enough to modulate once you learn they are there. The left side has a lever to pull and hold, delivering increased regenerative braking, but oddly, that same lever won’t cycle through different levels of regen. To do that, you have to click a tiny electronic icon on the center display, which is entirely unintuitive to have two closely related controls in complete opposite ends of the cabin.
Another weird quirk is having the wiper controls on the same stalk as the turn signals and high beams, with two rotating switches for the front and rear wipers. They did this to make room for a stalk on the right side to operate PRND, but it becomes too fiddly, requiring careful flicks of little switches just to operate the windshield wipers and does require a learning curve. Wiper operation in cars has always been easy, yet Honda somehow made it worse. The first time I drove the car was at night and in the rain, and because none of the tiny icons on the stalk illuminate in the dark, I actually didn’t know how to turn on the wipers — something that has never happened to me in a car before. Wipers should be easy - don't make them harder than they should.
Is there anything the Prologue does well? It looks alright, opting for a traditional SUV aesthetic rather than resembling some weird, dumb science project like the Toyota bZ4X (a car my girlfriend says looks like a USB drive lol). The wheels aren’t my cup of tea, nor is the color, but at least this is a handsome-looking Honda.
Battery and range
With a large 85 kWh battery onboard, the GM Ultium architecture and design, in conjunction with three electric motors, is good for 288 horsepower and a claimed 273 miles of range. Acceleration is immediate and perky when leaving stop signs and signals, and remains responsive at slow speeds. However, once your velocity rises above 50 MPH, the rate of acceleration dwindles to the point where passing on the freeway requires real-time consideration. The 0-60 MPH time of 5.5 seconds might suggest this is a reasonably quick car, but in the real world, on roads with 55 MPH and higher speed limits, it feels anything but quick.
Which brings us to the claimed range figure—because 286 miles is a complete and utter lie, at least here in mid-November Sacramento. With moderate heater use and a mixture of driving conditions, my real-world range tumbled to an estimated and disappointing 220 miles. The onboard computer displayed only 2.4 miles per kWh consumed, making this one of the thirstiest electric cars I’ve tested. That efficiency figure falls substantially behind what I experienced in Hyundai’s Ioniq 5 or VW’s ID.4. And despite this being a recent electric car release, it cannot make use of ultra-fast 350 kW chargers like some rivals can, meaning longer charging times when making a juice stop.
Does it drive decently at least?
Hondas typically drive well, offering more engagement than comparable Toyotas or Hyundais. The Prologue, yet again, does not uphold that strength, instead delivering a supremely mundane and distant driving experience. Despite direct steering, the car feels large and wayward, not helped by the obtrusive A-pillar bases that block visibility to crossing traffic. The ride quality is fine, and it's at least quiet on the highway, but this Honda lacks any of the enthusiasm most other Hondas enjoy. What’s really telling is that the car I tested immediately afterward — a Toyota bZ4X, or, another sleepy electric transport pod — felt positively alive by comparison. It’s also significantly quicker when accelerating above 50 MPH judging by pure instinct and the 'seat of the pants.' The bZ4X is far from a shining example of a modern car, but it made the Prologue feel even worse.
A prologue to a sad story
As the name suggests, the Prologue serves as the intro to Honda’s (possibly) all-electric future. But if this were a book, I wouldn’t make it past the prologue. For me, this is the intro, the main story, and the epilogue all in one go—without any recommendation—given how poorly made and underwhelming to drive this overpriced example was.
Initially, I thought Honda was being lazy by not developing their own electric car from the ground up, as if they didn’t care and didn’t even try. But maybe, just maybe, Honda is actually playing it smart by not trying at all. Perhaps they know these cars will struggle to sell and lose the same massive amounts of money as other legacy manufacturers. So if the cars will inevitably lose money anyway, why not piggyback off another brand that already developed the technology? Maybe Honda is just playing psychological combat so they can at least check the focus group box that says, "Yes, we do sell an electric car." That would at least serve as a silver lining. But where it really matters, skip this Prologue — it’s somebody else’s story, and it ain't a good one. To quote Taylor Swift and Bon Iver, "I think I've seen this film before, and I didn't like the ending."
2024 Honda Prologue AWD Elite
Price as-tested: $59,750
Pros: Looks decent on the outside
Cons: Appalling build quality and Expensive
Main specifications and dimensions
Powertrain:
Dual-motor all-wheel drive
Combined output: 288 horsepower and 333 lb-ft of torque
85 kWh Ultium lithium-ion battery
150 KW maximum DC fast charging
Performance:
EPA-estimated range: 273 miles
Maximum towing capacity: 1,500 lbs
Dimensions:
Wheelbase: 121.8 inches
Length: 192.0 inches
Width: 78.3 inches
Height: 65.2 inches
Ground clearance: 8.1 inches
Estimated weight: 5,273 lbs
Cargo capacity: 23.7 cu.ft. (with all seats in place); 54.5 cu.ft. (maximum)
More pictures of the 2024 Honda Prologue AWD Elite
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