The Jeep Compass: A Quiet Surprise on the Eastern Europe Roads

I found myself, once again, traversing the rolling landscapes of Central Europe. The mission was simple: drive from Budapest towards the Romanian border and back again. The weapon of choice? A black Jeep Compass.

Now, if you’ve been following my chronicles, specifically my Portuguese Odyssey in the Jeep Compass 4xe, you know that my relationship with the Stellantis group’s interpretation of an “American Icon” has been a bit complicated.

Back in Portugal, I drove the Plug-in Hybrid (4xe). It was complex, heavy, and demanded to be plugged in like a toaster every night. This time, however, I was handed the keys to the 1.5 e-Hybrid Automatic. No plugs, no cables, just a mild hybrid system and a promise of efficiency.

I expected to hate it. I expected it to be a breathless, confused lump of metal. But, and it pains me to say this, I was wrong. Mostly.

Chapter 1: The Sound of Silence

Let’s start with the shock of the century. This car is surprisingly well done.

In the automotive world, “Jeep” usually translates to “agricultural.” You expect wind noise that sounds like a hurricane trapped in a box, and tires that roar like an angry bear. But cruising down the M5 motorway leaving Budapest, I realized something unsettling: I couldn’t hear a thing.

It is quiet. Properly quiet. The suspension, rather than shattering my spine on every Hungarian expansion joint, actually absorbed the bumps. It didn’t crash, it wafted. It was comfortable. Dare I say, relaxing?

Whatever engineers Jeep locked in a basement to tune the NVH (Noise, Vibration, and Harshness) deserves a raise. Or at least a window.

Chapter 2: The Darkness Within

However, while the ride quality is premium, the interior ambiance is a bit austere.

Modern cars usually look like a gaming PC inside. You expect strips of purple neon, ambient foot-well glows, and door handles that light up like a disco in Ibiza. The Jeep Compass has none of that.

It is dark. It is functional. It is a tool. If you want a light show, buy a Mercedes. If you want to sit in a quiet, dark room while moving at 130 km/h, buy this Jeep. To be honest, I preferred it. It felt honest. It wasn’t trying to distract me from the road with a cabaret show on the dashboard.

Chapter 3: The Digital Abyss (A Rant)

But then, we must talk about the electronics. Specifically, the instrument cluster.

Look at the photos I took below. Really look at both of them.

Somewhere in the software department at Jeep, there is a person who hates humanity. This is the only explanation.

You are driving along, minding your own business, and the car decides to give you a warning—in this case, “Stay in lane.” A helpful suggestion. But how does the car display this?

Does it put a small icon in the corner? No. Does it flash a light? No.

It shrinks the speedometer and the tachometer down to the size of wristwatches and shoves them into the bottom corners. It then takes the remaining 80% of the high-definition digital screen, a vast expanse of expensive pixels, and fills it with… nothing.

Just a black void of emptiness.

And in the very center of this black hole, in font size 10, it whispers: “Stay in lane.”

Why? Why is the text so small? Why is the empty space so big? It looks like a PowerPoint presentation made by a toddler. It is a waste of space so profound it actually made me angry every time a warning popped up. It’s like renting a billboard in Times Square and sticking a Post-it note in the middle.

Chapter 4: The 1.5 Hybrid Reality

Comparing this to my Portuguese adventure with the Plug-in Hybrid, this 1.5 e-Hybrid feels more cohesive. It doesn’t have the dead weight of the massive battery pack the 4xe lugged around the hills of Sintra. It feels lighter on its feet.

However, I must address the elephant in the room, or rather, the sloth in the gearbox.

I checked the reviews for this specific power train, and the motoring press agrees on one thing: the 7-speed dual-clutch automatic is not in a hurry. If you are at a roundabout and you spot a gap, you put your foot down. The engine sends a telegram to the gearbox requesting power. The gearbox files the paperwork, holds a committee meeting, and then, eventually, delivers the torque. By which time, the gap is gone and you are being honked at by a Dacia Duster.

It also suffers from a jerky stop-start system. The transition from electric creeping to petrol power isn’t seamless. It’s a bit of a cough and a shudder. It’s not a deal breaker, but it reminds you that you aren’t in a Toyota.

Conclusion

So, what is the verdict on the Jeep Compass 1.5 e-Hybrid?

It is a car of contradictions. It looks rugged on the outside, especially in black against the autumn leaves, but drives with the softness of a luxury saloon. It is quiet and refined, yet possesses the most infuriating digital dashboard logic I have ever witnessed.

It lacks the sheer electric punch of the Plug-in Hybrid I drove in Portugal, but it also lacks the charging anxiety. It’s a simple, comfortable cruiser.

As I arrived back in Budapest, I realized I wasn’t tired. And for a car that sits in the fierce mid-size SUV segment, that is the highest compliment I can give. It’s surprisingly good. Just don’t look too closely at the dashboard when it warns you about something, or you might fall into the void.

About the car:

Jeep Compass 1.5 e-Hybrid
Fuel: bezin / electricity (Mild Hybrid)
Power: 130 HP
Model: 2023