What if I told you there’s a way to pay more money for the same car and get less of it. Not less weight. Not less complexity. Just less car. Not fewer electronic nannies watching your every move like a parole officer. Just less car. Would you do that? Of course you wouldn’t.
And yet, here it is. The 2026 Mazda CX-70, which is basically a CX-90. Except someone at Mazda headquarters, presumably during a long lunch involving sake and regret, decided to remove the third row of seats, black out some trim, and then charge more for it. Yes. More. Mazda will tell you this makes sense if you’re a young family, an empty nester, or someone who needs space for things rather than people, which is marketing-speak for they couldn’t think of a real reason either.
Mazda CX-70’s Powertrain Choice
Mechanically and visually, CX-70 and CX-90 are identical. Not similar. Not inspired by. Identical. You get the same three powertrains. Most of them come with a turbocharged 3.3-liter inline-six producing either 280 horsepower or a rather tasty 340 horsepower, depending on how deep your pockets are. There’s also a plug-in hybrid with a 2.5-liter four-cylinder and an electric motor, good for 323 horsepower and about 26 miles of electric range. Towing is rated at 3,500 pounds, unless you have the 340-horsepower engine, in which case you can tow 5,000 pounds, which is useful if you enjoy pulling small trailers. All-wheel drive is standard.
Which Mazda CX-70 To Choose
Now, you might be tempted by the hybrid because it sounds modern and virtuous. Don’t. Instead, buy the big turbo six, the one that remembers that Mazda makes cars for people who like driving. It’s sharp, agile, and genuinely entertaining, even if the transmission takes a thoughtful pause every time you tug the paddle shifters, as though it’s asking permission from management.
To Mazda’s credit, the 2026 CX-70 doesn’t pretend it’s an off-roader. There are no ridiculous references to climbing Everest or fording rivers. It knows full well that the roughest terrain it will ever face is a Trader Joe’s parking lot on a Saturday. Instead, it goes for luxury. Urbanity. Blacked-out trim. The visual equivalent of wearing a black turtleneck and calling yourself an academic.
Mazda CX-70’s Cabin Punches Above Its Weight
Inside, it’s genuinely impressive. The cabin is enormous, far larger than you’d expect from a Mazda. The second row is comfortable, spacious, and welcoming. The front, however, suffers from a center console the size of a Soviet bunker. It eats legroom and makes the driver feel oddly hemmed in, though at least Mazda had the good sense to pad the sides so your knees don’t feel like they’re being punished.
But then we arrive at the infotainment system, which is controlled by a rotary knob and features an interface that appears to have been designed during the reign of Queen Victoria. Simple tasks feel like filing your taxes in Morse code. And this is a problem, because Mazda is very clearly aiming for premium, while delivering something closer to early Windows XP.
But Here’s The Thing
Yes, it’s pleasantly posh, and very fun to drive. But then you compare it to the CX-90, and everything collapses, like a deck chair in a hurricane. like a deck chair in a hurricane.
You see, the CX-90 has a third row that folds down. When you do, you’ll get 40 cubic feet of cargo space. The CX-70, with no third row at all offers 39.5 cubic feet. That’s right. The identically-sized car, with more seats, carries more stuff.
And the final insult? Price. The 2026 CX-90 starts at $39,300. The 2026 CX-70, missing an entire row of seats, starts at $42,250. So, let me ask: why does the CX-70 exist? Why would Mazda spend millions developing, manufacturing and marketing a vehicle that offers no advantage and no logical reason to choose it over the CX-90?
The Upshot
The only conceivable reason to buy a 2026 Mazda CX-70 is if the dealer is practically paying you to take it away. Yes, objectively, it’s a very impressive car. It’s also completely pointless. Unfortunately, it’s the automotive equivalent of ordering a large pizza, having two slices removed, and being charged extra for the privilege.
That’s not innovation. It’s madness.
