Chery Fulwin hatchback image from the CC Cohort by Robadr.
It became crystal clear to me that after the “Accent Affair,” I didn’t want another old car to keep around for five years while facing one issue after another every few months draining my wallet. So, I decided to downgrade in perceived quality and upgrade in age and mileage, hoping to find a better balance. The answer, much to my regret at the time, was a Chinese car.
To be honest, I hadn’t delved deeply enough into the world of Chinese cars to keep track of all the brands, factories, and corporations—it’s just too complicated for me. What I do find interesting, though, is that according to most of the material I’ve read, the Fulwin is a descendant of the Cowin. Here’s a picture of a Cowin:
Chery Colwin images from Wikipedia.
Most Europeans of car-noticing age around 1995 will recognize this shape as being almost identical to the Seat Toledo, which, in turn, was a spin-off of the Volkswagen Golf MK2. I’m not sure how closely the Chinese car actually resembles the Toledo, but it’s worth noting. The Cowin was sold here in Uruguay in decent numbers, being cheaper and larger than the Fulwin. However, in the 10 years since, you rarely see any on the streets, while the Fulwin has stayed quite common.
At the time, the Fulwin was different from most other cars, but that doesn’t mean it was beautiful by any stretch of the imagination. It was, however, modern. Here are some pictures to give you an idea…
Chery Fulwin (Celer, in Brazil) images from the brochure.
Two body styles were available: one was a 4-meter-long hatchback, and the other a 4.23-meter liftback sedan. The sedan sold far less than the hatchback in Uruguay, and it was the sedan that I ended up getting. In red.
It would be several years before I realized that “Made in China” is a meaningless label when it comes to cars. You can have both crappy cars and excellent cars—crappy ones may be cheap, and excellent ones may be expensive. Back then, it was hit or miss because I had no idea what I was really getting. All Chinese cars were relatively inexpensive, and for the price, you’d end up with something one level above a typical brand. For example, I bought that Chery Fulwin for the same price I would have paid for a Renault Clio of similar age or a five-year-old Renault Sandero.
Even though I didn’t trust the Chinese safety grading system, it was certainly better than nothing. So, FWIW, the Fulwin was the only Chinese car with ABS and airbags, had the best trunk in sedan form, and didn’t look like any other car.
Jac J3 image from Wikipedia.
I went to check out a Jac J3, a similar Chinese competitor, but I didn’t like it at all. Then, I came across an ad for a barely used Chery Fulwin and arranged to meet the owner to look at it and test drive it. The first question I asked was why he was selling it. Right off the bat, he explained that the car had originally belonged to his wife, who got scared after witnessing a small car involved in an accident on the road. She decided she’d rather spend more money on a safer car. I thought that was a pretty candid answer.
I had the car brought to my mechanic’s shop, and after he gave the thumbs up (the car had only 4,000 km on it), I had my notary handle the paperwork. Before I knew it, I had the keys in my hand.
Chery Fulwin hatchback image from the CC Cohort by Robadr.
The only characteristic of this car that sticks in my memory is that it was the first automobile close to new I had ever managed to buy up to that time. It drove nicely, and the horsepower and torque ratings were very similar to the Accent. The key difference was that the Fulwin had a brand new engine. It was agile in the city, the gearshift was responsive, and the controls worked well.
However, “Quality” was a term that could only be used tongue-in-cheek when talking about the Chery; all the plastics were hard, even on the steering wheel. Of course, at the time, it wasn’t something you’d even think of bringing up when talking about any other Chinese car imported to Uruguay. At least not those that didn’t try to pass themselves off as something more than just a copy of a Toyota Corolla.
Chery Fulwin interior, image from Argentina’s Autoweb.
Interior space was good. The steering was overboosted, which might not be ideal for driving enthusiasts, but as a lazy guy, I loved it. The brakes were reasonably good, and the suspension was on the soft side but still adequate. All in all, the car seemed fit to remain in service for many years. I tend to measure my car’s usage in years rather than kilometers since I drive less than 10,000 per year.
I took the car for its first service, and the dealer didn’t find any problems. I bought an original protector plate and had it installed to make sure I wouldn’t damage the oil pan, as the car rode really low. I felt totally confident with the car after a few months, so when summer vacation rolled around we headed to our usual relaxing spot, which has very steep roads.
I drove from the hotel where we were staying to one of those steep roads, took it, and parked by a pier. My wife and kids fished for a while, and after a few hours, we all got in the car and drove off. At that moment, it crossed my mind: “I wonder which gear will handle this kind of incline.” So, I drove up slowly in first gear. The car couldn’t make it. How could that be? It didn’t seem logical for a new car to struggle like that. When I started to smell the clutch burning, I decided not to push my luck. I backed down and drove in reverse, which the car handled with no problem at all. Needless to say, after that, I avoided driving up steep inclines, including parking spaces.
Chery Fulwin image from the CC Cohort by Robadr.
After returning from vacation, I took the car to the dealer and asked them how this could be. They were as candid as the original owner had been: “That’s just how it is.” When I pointed out that it meant the Fulwin couldn’t be driven comfortably everywhere, they agreed and said it was a common issue for people who had to deal with steep inclines regularly. Since I usually drove on relatively flat terrain, they shrugged it off as no big deal. However, I was left with the impression that I was driving in what was, to say the least, a poorly configured car.
A short time later, every time I engaged 1st gear and started driving, I’d hear a thud from the drivetrain. With the car having around 15,000 to 20,000 km at the time, it wasn’t exactly a good omen. Once again, I went to the dealer and asked them to call me when they figured out the problem. They called a few days later, asking me to come to the shop.
They showed me that the issue was an assembly problem, where the drivetrain, when applying initial torque, would rub against a cross member of the monocoque. “Okay, can you fix it?” I asked. “No, we can’t,” they said. “It would require too much disassembly and would be too expensive.”
By then, the car was nearing the end of its 2-year warranty period (which, by the way, no longer exists—warranties are now 3 to 5 years, with coverage up to 100,000 or 150,000 km). So, I took it to my mechanic, who builds racing cars as a hobby. He confirmed the dealer’s diagnosis but explained that it was entirely possible to move the offending parts, and he proceeded to do so. When I asked if he thought this was the only major issue with the car, he told me that some of his clients had no problems at all, while others had broken pretty much everything imaginable. So, the quality was inconsistent.
By this point, I was already having doubts about keeping the car, but it was clear I wouldn’t get anywhere near the money I had paid for it in a trade-in.
Meanwhile, my brother had bought a Jac minivan and was ecstatic with it until it started consuming oil around 30,000 km. The dealer refused to fix it, and eventually, he got rid of it at 80,000 km. The car drove really nicely and was quite large by our standards.
So our luck with Chinese vehicles wasn’t improving. My brother had bought an Isuzu-copy crew cab, which rusted in a couple of years. He traded it in for a Great Wall Sailor, which was a step up in terms of finish but had no available spare parts, something my brother learned the hard way when he was hit violently from the left on a neighborhood street. The impact destroyed the front body parts, deformed the chassis, and damaged some mechanical components. He ended up signing over the truck and the rights to the repair with the dealer, and paying the balance toward a new Japanese-built Mitsubishi Lancer, which was one of the nicest cars I’ve ever driven. No more Chinese cars for him.
I was steadily adding kilometers to the Chery, but I wasn’t satisfied with it at all. In two and a half years and less than 30,000 km, the driver’s seatbelt had worn through the seat upholstery. Services were getting more expensive due to the frequency of belt replacements and other issues. By 2016, three years after I’d gotten the car, I was fed up and decided to trade it in.
The next car would be better. Not superb, but somewhat better. I’ll tell you about it next week.
I must say that “Made In China” means nothing in 2025 where cars are concerned. The ones we see here in Australia are excellent. But, 12-15 years ago, it was very different.
You see, we got Chery as a brand in that time period, and the things were simply atrocious. So were the Great Walls we also got. Terrible, terrible cars. They were like a fake, a plastic Rolex, say. Not for real use.
Like the Korean makers, China has been on a steep learning curve, albeit the Chinese curve was three times steeper. Their status now as makers of perfectly decent cars has taken only (more or less) ten years.
I do hope for your sake that this Chery disappears from your very enjoyable COAL series soon, Rafael!
Thank you so much as always, Justy! Yes, I suppose you got more Chinese cars from the start and perhaps more varied. Here everyone could set up a hut in a corner and call themselves “So and So Motors, unique representative for the country” and bring whatever they wanted. I’m sure the learning curve has been very steep, but also that the better models, which we didn’t get at the beginning, began to trickle down. I can’t believe today the prices of the Tesla competitors from BYD. Still less expensive, but high range anyway.
Yes, the Chery disappeared to be supplanted by something much more run-of-the-mill.
We don’t typically think of modern cars as having 70s style widespread durability problems like that. Chinese vehicle quality has come a very long way in the past decade.
While I still think Chinese cars in general do not meet Western standards, especially in the areas of rust protection and material quality, I do think they will make in roads in the North American market eventually.
The question is how? Will they go the captive import route like Mitsubishi, Mazda, etc. Or will they try and make it on their own? I think the smaller Chinese automakers will most likely fail. The larger ones with deeper pockets might have a chance. While people focus on the success of Toyota, they forget the failure of Daewoo, Suzuki. Isuzu, Daihatsu, Peugeot, Sterling, etc.
Daihatsu was absorbed by Toyota and does just fine in Japan and Asia, as do Isuzu and Suzuki. Peugeot hangs on ok in Europe and Africa. The US market is not the end-all be-all anymore and is shrinking all the time, now #2 behind China and India is gaining on us. China will be blocked from the US by tariffs for the foreseeable future but maybe not forever. If the market goes all out for EVs we’re toast.
The clear intention by the current US Administration to kneecap Canadian participation in the North American auto industry brings up the interesting possibility of Chinese assembly plants in Canada. There already is one in Mexico.
If agreements were reached to source an adequate percentage of parts and material within Canada it could be a proposition worth considering.