I've been going back and forth about writing this post for a couple of weeks because, honestly, buying a car is one of those decisions that feels enormous while you're making it and completely obvious in hindsight. But I figured if I'm going to document things on this blog, this is exactly the kind of decision worth writing about. I'm switching from an Opel Corsa 1.2 Turbo Elegance to a Hyundai IONIQ 5. And before you ask — no, I didn't wake up one morning and decide I wanted an electric car. The Corsa decided for me. Let me explain.
About six months ago, the Corsa started doing this thing. I don't even know how to describe it properly because it didn't happen every time. It was intermittent — one of those phantom issues that makes you question your own sanity. Sometimes the car would hesitate under acceleration, like it was thinking about whether it wanted to go or not. Other times it was fine. No pattern. No warning light. No error code. Just... a feeling that something wasn't right.
I took it to the mechanic. He drove it around, couldn't replicate the problem. Told me to keep an eye on it. Fair enough. A week later it did it again, worse this time. Back to the mechanic. This time he found something — a component that needed replacing. Great. Except the part doesn't exist. Or rather, it exists in theory, but it's been on backorder for months. He's called suppliers, checked warehouses, tried alternative sources. Nothing. The part is simply not available.
So I've been driving around for months with a car that sometimes works perfectly and sometimes doesn't, with a mechanic who's genuinely trying his best but can't fix it because the industry has decided that the spare part I need is apparently optional. If you've ever dealt with parts availability for modern cars, you know this isn't unusual. Post-pandemic supply chains combined with planned obsolescence means that getting parts for a car that's only a few years old can sometimes feel like sourcing components for a 1974 tractor.
That was frustration number one.
Here's the thing about the Opel Corsa that nobody tells you until you live with it. The car is great. Genuinely. The 1.2 Turbo engine is punchy, the Elegance trim is well-equipped, it drives nicely around town, and the fuel consumption is reasonable. If you're a couple with no kids, or if you're a single person who needs a commuter car, it's hard to beat.
But I'm 1.85m tall. And the Corsa is a supermini. Those two facts create a very specific problem.
To drive comfortably, I need the seat pushed almost all the way back. All the way. There's no compromise here — if the seat is even two centimeters too far forward, my knees hit the steering column and my right leg cramps up after twenty minutes. So the seat goes back, and that's fine for me. The problem is what happens behind me.
My son sits in the back. And when my seat is pushed all the way back, the rear legroom behind the driver's seat basically disappears. We're talking about a space that's technically a seat but functionally a storage compartment. He's squeezed in there with his knees against the back of my seat, complaining every single trip, and honestly I can't blame him. It's not comfortable. It's not safe if we're being completely honest about it. And it's getting worse as he grows.
I started doing that thing where I try to sit slightly more forward to give him space, but then my driving position is awful and my back hurts after thirty minutes. There's no winning. The car is simply too small for a tall driver with a rear passenger. That's not a criticism of Opel — the Corsa is designed to be compact and it does that brilliantly. It's just not the right car for my situation anymore.
That was frustration number two.
I'm one of those people who tracks expenses. Not obsessively, but enough to know where the money goes. And one evening, out of pure curiosity, I sat down and calculated what I was actually spending on fuel every month.
The Corsa does around 6.5 to 7 litres per 100km in my daily driving — mixed between city and some highway. That's decent for a petrol car, nothing to complain about. But fuel in Portugal isn't cheap. We're paying somewhere around €1.65 to €1.75 per litre for gasoline 95 depending on the week and the station. And I drive a lot. Between commuting, school runs, weekend trips, the occasional longer drive and everything in between, I'm doing close to 2,800km a month. That's not an estimate — I track it.
So let's do the maths. 2,800km at 6.8L/100km = about 190 litres a month. At €1.70 per litre, that's roughly €320 per month on fuel. Three hundred and twenty euros. Every single month. I stared at that number for a while when I first added it up because it's the kind of figure that doesn't feel real until you see it on paper. That's almost a third of a minimum wage salary. Just on fuel. Just to get from A to B.
Now the IONIQ 5. The version I'm getting does about 15.6 kWh/100km according to Hyundai's WLTP figures. In real-world driving, let's be conservative and say 17-18 kWh/100km because I know WLTP numbers are optimistic and I have a bit of a heavy right foot. If I charge mostly at home on a night tariff (which in Portugal is around €0.10-€0.12 per kWh depending on your contract), the maths changes dramatically.
2,800km at 18 kWh/100km = about 500 kWh per month. At €0.11 per kWh on the night tariff = roughly €55 per month. Even if I use public chargers occasionally — which are more expensive, around €0.25-€0.35 per kWh — the monthly energy cost probably lands around €65-€75.
€320 vs €70. Let that sink in. That's €250 saved per month. Three thousand euros a year. Over five years, that's €15,000 in fuel savings alone. Fifteen thousand euros. That's not loose change. That's a holiday fund. That's a year of private school. That's half the car paid off just in fuel savings.
And that's before we talk about maintenance — no oil changes, no timing belt, no exhaust system, no clutch, no spark plugs. The IONIQ 5's maintenance schedule is basically "check the brakes and the tyres every now and then."
I'm not going to pretend the IONIQ 5 is cheap. It isn't. But when you're burning through €320 a month on gasoline and the alternative is €70 in electricity, the total cost of ownership calculation flips on its head pretty fast. Add the lower maintenance costs and the ENI promotion that Hyundai is running right now, and suddenly the expensive car is the one I'm already driving.
This is the part that turned a theoretical "maybe one day I'll go electric" into an actual purchase order.
Hyundai Portugal is running a promotion for companies and ENIs (Empresas em Nome Individual) on the IONIQ 5 EV 440km Premium MY25 — starting from €29,900 + IVA. Let me repeat that. Under thirty thousand plus tax for a car that retails at €43,000 for private buyers. That's a massive discount. The campaign is valid until 30th of June 2026 and it's limited to existing stock at participating dealers.
I happen to be an ENI. And when I saw that price, something clicked. Because suddenly the gap between "I can't afford to switch to electric" and "I can't afford NOT to switch" got very small.
After IVA recovery (because as an ENI you can deduct the IVA on the vehicle purchase), the effective cost drops even further. I'm not going to get into the specific tax details because everyone's situation is different and you should absolutely talk to your accountant before making any decisions. But the combination of the promotional price, the IVA deduction, the fuel savings, and the lower maintenance costs made the financial case pretty compelling.
And then there was the financing. We managed to secure a credit at 3.16% interest. If you've been anywhere near a car loan recently, you know that's low. Like, unusually low. Most auto financing in Portugal is hovering around 6-8% right now depending on the bank and the term, so getting 3.16% felt like finding a parking spot in downtown Lisbon on a Saturday afternoon — you know it shouldn't be happening but you're not going to question it.
The total loan is €22,000 — the rest I'm covering with savings as a down payment. Monthly installment? About €211. Two hundred and eleven euros.
Now read this carefully because this is the part where the whole thing stops making sense and starts making PERFECT sense at the same time. I was spending €320 a month on gasoline. The IONIQ 5 will cost me roughly €70 a month in electricity. That's a saving of €250 per month. The loan payment is €211 per month.
€250 saved minus €211 installment = I'm still €39 better off every month than I was before. Driving a brand new car. With more space. With a seven-year warranty. With no phantom mechanical issues. And I'm paying LESS per month in total than I was paying just to fill up the Corsa.
I genuinely had to check the maths three times because it felt like I was making an error somewhere. I wasn't. The fuel savings alone more than cover the car payment. The car is not just partially paying for itself — it's fully paying for itself and leaving me with change. Not a lot of change, granted. Thirty-nine euros isn't going to make me rich. But the principle of it — that switching to an electric car is CHEAPER on a monthly basis than keeping the petrol one, even after adding a loan payment — is the kind of thing that makes you wonder why you didn't do this two years ago.
The 440km range version has a 63 kWh battery with around 440km of WLTP range. For my daily driving — close to 2,800km a month between everything — that means charging roughly every two to three days at home overnight. Which is about as inconvenient as plugging in my phone before bed. Which is to say, not inconvenient at all.
And then there's the reason that has nothing to do with money and everything to do with my son not hating every car journey.
The IONIQ 5 has a wheelbase of 3,000mm. Three metres. For context, the Corsa's wheelbase is 2,538mm. That's nearly half a metre of difference. And because the IONIQ 5 is built on a dedicated electric platform (Hyundai's E-GMP), there's no transmission tunnel, no exhaust running underneath, no engine taking up space at the front. The interior space is, for a car of this exterior size, absolutely enormous.
I sat in the driver's seat at the dealer, pushed it all the way back to my usual position — the full 1.85m-tall-guy-with-long-legs position — and then walked around and sat behind myself. There was SPACE. Actual, genuine, "I can cross my legs back here" space. My son could sit behind me without his knees touching anything. He could actually move. He could be comfortable.
We did a test drive — the whole family came along, because if I'm making this kind of decision I want everyone to have a say. And the reaction was unanimous. My wife loved how smooth and quiet it was. My son spent the entire drive grinning in the back seat, stretching his legs out like he'd just been released from a prison cell. Even pulling into corners, the car felt planted and solid in a way that the Corsa never quite managed at this size. The interior is massive — flat floor, no centre tunnel, everything feels open and airy. It's one of those cars where the space inside doesn't match what you expect from the outside. You look at it parked and think "that's a normal-sized car" and then you sit inside and think "did they use some kind of TARDIS engineering here?"
That was the moment I knew the decision was made. Not the fuel savings. Not the ENI promotion. Not the Corsa's phantom mechanical issue. It was watching my family get out of the test drive and seeing them all genuinely excited about a car for the first time in years.
Seven years. No kilometre limit. That's what Hyundai gives you on the IONIQ 5. Seven years of "if something goes wrong, we'll fix it." Plus seven years of roadside assistance and seven years of annual check-ups included.
After months of dealing with a part that my mechanic can't find for the Corsa, the idea of a seven-year warranty with no questions asked felt like a warm blanket on a cold day. I don't want to think about parts availability. I don't want to worry about whether a component is on backorder somewhere in a warehouse in Germany. I just want to drive the car and know that if something breaks, someone else deals with it.
Is seven years excessive? Maybe. Will I keep the car that long? Probably not. But knowing the safety net is there makes the purchase feel a lot less risky, especially when you're spending this kind of money.
I'm not going to pretend this is a purely rational decision made by a man who calmly analyzed spreadsheets and came to a logical conclusion. There's emotion in this. There's excitement and anxiety in roughly equal measures.
I've never owned an electric car. I've driven them, I've read about them, I've watched every YouTube review that exists on the IONIQ 5, but I've never lived with one day to day. The charging infrastructure in Portugal is improving but it's not perfect. Long trips will require planning in a way that petrol cars don't. There will be a learning curve.
But here's what I keep coming back to. The Corsa had a problem nobody could fix. It was too small for my family. And I was spending €320 a month on fuel that could be €70. At some point, the rational choice and the emotional choice converge into the same answer.
The Corsa is gone, by the way. Sold. A hundred thousand kilometres on the clock and I still managed to get €7,000 for it, which honestly surprised me given the mileage and the phantom mechanical issue that I was completely transparent about with the buyer. But the market for used Corsas is still decent and the car IS good — it just wasn't good for me anymore. That €7,000 went straight into the down payment, which is part of how the loan ended up at only €22,000 instead of something scarier.
So here's the final tally. I sold the Corsa for €7,000. I got the IONIQ 5 at the ENI promotional price. I put the Corsa money plus some savings toward the down payment. The loan is €22,000 at 3.16%. The monthly installment is €211. And the fuel savings cover that installment and then some. Every time I look at those numbers I feel like I'm getting away with something.
The paperwork is done. The loan is signed. The IONIQ 5 is sitting at the dealer with zero kilometres on the clock, waiting to be registered. That's where we are right now — in that slightly maddening limbo between "I've bought a car" and "I can actually drive it." Portuguese bureaucracy being what it is, the registration process takes a few days (or weeks, depending on how the universe feels about me this month). So for now I'm carless, bumming lifts, and counting down the days.
I'll probably write about how it actually feels to live with the IONIQ 5 after the first month. The good, the bad, the charging anxiety, the "why didn't anyone warn me about this" moments that every new car owner discovers. For now, I'm cautiously optimistic.
And my son keeps asking me every day when the new car is coming. That alone might be worth the price of admission.
