2026 Toyota HiLux Rogue review

The HiLux is enormous business for Toyota, regularly finishing at (or near) the top of the sales charts every year.

If you’re Toyota, planning the once-a-decade facelift, you’ve got a lot to think about. Is it broken? Do we fix it? What does the Ford Ranger/Mitsubishi Triton/Isuzu D-Max do that we don’t? And do we as Toyota care? More to the point, do HiLux buyers care?

Ute buyers are enjoying the benefits of this battle royale, with car makers old getting in on the fight. Hybrids, electrics, plug-in hybrids, threats of one or all three of these. One-tonne cow-pushers up to twin-turbo hatchback eaters. Lifestyle versions sit alongside tough work utes. So many choices.

The December launch of the new HiLux was greeted with much excitement that quickly evaporated into “Yeah, okay, it’s still good… but is this really a new HiLux?”

The HiLux Rogue fits into the upper end of a wide range of HiLuxes. It’s a dual-cab ute aimed a bit more at suburban families with pretensions to adventure, with a few curious specification details. The Rogue is priced at $71,990 plus on-road costs for the dual-cab, matching the Rugged X that is aimed more at fans of muddy ruts.

For this hefty outlay you’ll get 18-inch alloys, carpeted tub, electrically operated tray roller cover, sports bar, nine-speaker JBL-branded stereo, tub lighting, synthetic leather upholstery, powered driver’s seat, dual-zone climate control, 12.3-inch digital dash, heated front seats and steering wheel, automatic LED headlights with auto-levelling, LED tail-lights, heated electric mirrors, 12.3-inch touchscreen, wireless Apple CarPlay and Android Auto, satellite navigation and a full-size spare.

The Rogue also picks up an electric brake controller, wiring harness and towbar.

At this price, Toyota is sending the Rogue into battle against Nissan’s mildly bonkers Navara Pro-4X ($68,418 plus on-road costs). The equally over-the-top Isuzu D-Max X-Terrain ($69,990 drive-away) is slightly less, and BYD Shark 6 ($57,900 plus ORCs), MG U9 Explore Pro ($60,990 drive-away) and Mitsubishi Triton GSR ($64,590 plus ORCs) all undercut the HiLux by some margin.

Heading to the Toyota website is the first obvious choice to build and price a HiLux, although the website does only allow you to choose from a couple of dealers via your postcode. You can either order online or check the stock of the dealers Toyota wants you to use and any deals will be on the model’s page.

You can also find new and used HiLux models for sale on Drive Marketplace.

If you're looking for more pricing, specifications, and the latest offers on the Toyota HiLux range, click here.

Slightly worryingly, the HiLux bonnet line rises to shoulder height, which does not bode well for visibility down the side of the car from the driver’s seat, particularly for seeing smaller adults and children. But that’s nothing new, of course.

The Rogue’s tub is covered by an electro-roller cover, which is just as well, because the tray is fully carpeted. I mean… maybe an SUV is better for you if this is what you want? Anyway, the roller cover leaks in moderate rain, leaving the edges of the carpet wet. Luckily, it’s marine carpet but… who likes wet carpet?

It’s a long way up to the tray, which measures 1570mm long, 495mm deep and 1645mm wide. The narrowest point is 1105mm. Some will squeal that you can’t fit a pallet in there, but you’d ruin the carpet anyway. Also, a pallet in one of these things? That’s VW Caddy territory, and you don’t need an Ericsson AirCrane to get it in with the German van.

The roller cover takes a pretty big bite out of the cubic capacity of the tub, but, as with the pallet requirement, it’s unlikely this will break too many deals. Given the HiLux tub is already one of the smallest in class, and yet the model remains a smash-hit, it's probably not a big deal.

Also included is a pair of rails along the side and various fixing points, a 12-volt port (exclusive to the Rogue), lighting for the tub and a damped tailgate, although the first part of the travel isn’t damped so that will take some getting used to.

The roller cover squeaked and clattered and was not at all convincing; an opinion echoed from my experience with a similar device on a Ranger.

On to the cabin. It’s so much better compared to its predecessor, by leaps and bounds. With two big screens, there’s already a good start, but it looks thoroughly modern. I think Toyota kind of missed the point of a lifestyle vehicle, and could learn from Ford how to make a cabin look less like a quarry, but here we are.

Plastics are hard and scratchy throughout, but will likely outlast humanity. The new centre stack layout under the big media screen is easy to use on the move and a testament to big friendly buttons and switches. The controls for things like diff locks are easy to see and decipher, and the driveline controls for 2H, 4H, and 4L are simplicity itself, but out of the way so you won’t knock them.

There are also physical controls for the climate control, which is a huge win for any cabin in 2025.

Storage abounds, with a double glovebox layout, cupholders in the console, sort-of cupholders at either end of the dash, door bins and bottle holders. The bin under the poorly fitted armrest is a good size too. While we’re at it, the armrest is awful, and we should expect better from Toyota. It’s the only misstep in an otherwise well-built car.

The rear seats are set high and are very upright. They don’t look particularly comfortable and your eyes are not deceiving you. I’d pick the rear bench of a Ranger any day, and that’s not an especially good example either. Kids won’t enjoy it all that much, and obviously loading them in if they can’t do it themselves is a challenge given the height.

A centre armrest has cupholders, and if that is folded away you can put a human there, although the huge transmission tunnel won’t make it especially comfortable. Passengers in the outboard seats might spend a lot of time uneasily eyeing the massive non-retractable grab handles. You’ll also be eyeing the driver because at my height – 178cm – driving behind my position is tight for knees, feet and head.

The doors have bottle holders, the seatbacks have map pockets and there are take-away hooks. You can also flip up the seat bases for more storage, which is handy.

You do get vents, and two USB-C ports for charging. The design isn’t very inspiring and, as in other parts of the cabin, the materials look cheap with a 1980’s grain and production seams.

For what it’s worth, the Rogue’s height is 1848mm rather than the other dual-cabs at 1865mm, while the ground clearance is slightly higher by 5mm at 229mm.

The previous HiLux was a bit of a study in what you can get away with in the cabin, which is kind of a shame given how quickly the competition engulfed it. But they kept selling until finally getting this long-awaited heavy facelift.

In this generation, it’s better but kind of feels like the Japanese giant has again taken a more cautious approach. Toyota took a long time to get on the screen-size bandwagon and, to be fair, when it arrived, it wasn’t too bad. But it’s not exactly going to shame other utes, let alone other car makers more generally.

It’s worth pointing out that Toyota knows its customers extremely well, so it knows precisely how much it can get away with.

There is a shiny new screen with Toyota’s current media software, which does make things feel a lot newer. Wireless Apple CarPlay and Android Auto are both along for the ride. CarPlay looks great on the screen and the hardware works really well, with good response and little lag when tapping and swiping around.

The thing is, though, it’s kind of glued to the middle of the dash and isn’t as well integrated as, say, the Ranger, but it isn’t a million miles away from Triton or MU-X implementations.

The 11-speaker JBL-branded system is fine, but it didn’t strike me as over-the-top excellent. I think that probably has something to do with the structure of a ute and the way the cabin is laid out, but it certainly did make good enough sound that I won’t complain.

Toyota’s digital dashboard is very good here in the HiLux and it looks great, mirroring the machinery theme of the alloy wheel design on the Rogue.

As with the rest of the range, Toyota Connected Services is available in full for the first year of ownership. This means you can use the phone app to check certain levels and functions of the car, jump the locks, that sort of thing. If you allow the subscription to lapse, you’ll still have SOS and accident detection among the small collection of features left. You can continue the subscription for about the price of ad-free Netflix every month.

The 2026 Toyota HiLux was awarded a five-star ANCAP safety rating. The eighth-generation machine had a five-star rating across most grades, except for the GR Sport.

ANCAP gave this ninth-generation HiLux scores of 84 per cent for adult occupant protection, 89 per cent for child occupant protection, 82 per cent for vulnerable road user protection, and 82 per cent for safety assist.

Eight airbags protect the occupants, which is again a big step up, and baby and booster seats can be locked in place with two ISOFIX points or three top-tether mounts in this dual-cab HiLux.

In times past, our expectations of ute safety were vastly lower than those of passenger car protections. One upside of the ute infestation is that competition has bred a more safety-conscious attitude among manufacturers, although some glaring omissions remain.

The basic list of the HiLux is vastly better than it was a decade ago. Forward autonomous emergency braking (AEB), reverse cross-traffic alert, blind-spot alert and lane assistance are all welcome additions to these huge things.

What I count as a bad miss in a 5.4-metre ute with restricted rear and side view is the terrible reversing camera. It would be woeful for any car, let alone a near 80-grand ute and we should demand more from the world’s largest car maker.

High-res cameras, side sensors and junction assist really should be mandatory, alongside reverse AEB that works at higher-than-parking speeds.

The good news on servicing is that Toyota is sticking with its entirely reasonable fixed-price servicing regime, at $395 per service for the first 10 visits.

The bad news is, you have to roll in for a service every six months/10,000km, meaning that three years of servicing is not $1185 but $2370, working out at $790 per year. That’s not extortionate, but having to go in twice a year must be irritating, especially if you’ve stepped out of a less demanding other-branded vehicle.

Insuring a HiLux Rogue will cost $3140 per year based on a comparative quote for a 35-year-old male driver living in Chatswood, NSW. Insurance estimates may vary based on your location, driving history, and personal circumstances

With a big 80-litre fuel tank, you’re going to cover a lot of ground with the HiLux. Toyota’s official figure of 7.6 litres per 100 kilometres is pretty impressive for a 2.3-tonne ute with the aero profile of an aircraft carrier. Naturally that figure means nothing in the real world until you give it a go.

My time with the HiLux saw a return of 9.2L/100km in a mostly suburban-bound week with a couple of motorway runs. It had to work hard in exceptional heat, so it’s entirely possible a less scorching climate would push the figure into the high 8s.

Toyota’s number would get you 1050km full to dry and my figure would see you cover 870km, which is convenient if nothing else.

The last HiLux I drove was not much fun. With nothing in the tray, it pogoed around and left me wondering why you’d buy one to carry anything but heavy work gear around. I’ll admit I’m not a ute fan, but it was an unpleasant week.

This new HiLux was a huge shock because it is a vast improvement, and that’s really what this new HiLux is about. While the steering remains reasonably vague and slow – which is definitely welcome when you’re off-roading – the weighting is good and seems slightly shorter-geared than I remember. It’s also now electrically assisted, and so it’s more consistent and keeps up with changes of direction far more capably.

The real change, however, is how the car rides and handles. Because the ride was so bouncy and uncomfortable in the old car, I found myself gripping the steering wheel a little more because it felt wayward and with nothing in the tray. The leaf-spring rear – sometimes called cart springs – remains, but it is so much more controlled. While it’s no match for a Ranger or even a Cannon Alpha, it’s a galactic improvement.

What’s not a galactic improvement is what’s under the bonnet. Toyota has a baffling ability to miss opportunities with its electrification strategy, the HiLux shipping with two versions of the venerable 2.8-litre turbo-diesel four. One with mild-hybrid tech and one without.

The mild-hybrid tech aims to reduce fuel use, and that’s a good thing. But it’s a mild-hybrid setup with a fairly small 8.5kW/65Nm capability. All up, the MHEV version has an impressive 500Nm of twist sent through a six-speed automatic, which means the 778kg payload, 3500kg tow rating and 6300kg GCM look less intimidating.

The missed opportunity is that Toyota’s formidable experience with hybrid technology is not in evidence and doesn’t really make its presence felt in the driving. A series-hybrid would further improve the driving experience and the fuel situation – and I would suggest Toyota is in the position to offer a petrol-hybrid alternative – all to make the HiLux even more palatable and compete against Chinese offerings. Not everyone wants a diesel.

Having said all that, it’s nice enough to drive in 2H, and that’s where I’d suggest you leave it in town. Switching to 4H noticeably tightens up the front end and makes tight corners feel tighter. So all-wheel drive is not great in day-to-day driving unless it’s chucking it down.

I liked the new digital dashboard – it’s clear and has lots of different screens. The central screen is familiar to newer cars from the maker and is fine, but missing a home page. It’s very bright but easy to use, although some have complained it isn’t angled towards the driver.

As with pretty much anything else worth looking at in the segment, the HiLux can pull an absurd 3500kg of a braked load, over a tonne more than the ute itself weighs. These figures are very important to ute folks and people do seem to be very concerned about that top-line number.

The 350kg allowed on the towball takes a decent chunk out of the HiLux Rogue’s 778kg payload leaving you with 428kg, so watch how you load up when you do go full adventure/caravan/boating person. That’s not bad going, though.

You can obviously count on the HiLux being a very capable towing vehicle.

Buying a Toyota is rarely a mistake, and if you’re looking for a competent, capable ute, the HiLux is better than it has ever been, at least as a ute. As a family carrier, I remain deeply sceptical of having a ute as a primary vehicle, as it’s not especially comfortable or easy to live with if your family is young.

This is a real steady-as-she-goes update rather than a new HiLux. The closest to all-new it’s going to get is the fully-electric model due next year, which is hopefully a better first attempt than the bZ4X.

The Rogue is a slightly odd spec, at least behind the cabin, so you’d have to think about the differences between the SR5 below it and the Rugged X next to it, both of which will present you with compromises.