Škoda Q-Cars

Sometime around 2013, likely in a soundproof conference room with no windows, a group of otherwise outwardly respectable engineers and marketing experts at Škoda Auto decided it was time to radically rethink the direction of the brand.

By radically rethink, they didn’t mean a technological breakthrough or a design revolution. What they meant was taking the long-standing tradition of sensible, phonetically harmless model names — and smashing it like a wing mirror on a blind corner.

Thus was born the Q-nomenclature: a series of SUV models whose names all end in the letter Q, despite the fact that there is no linguistic, cultural, or mechanical justification for this whatsoever.

Background

Škoda Auto – outside of the United States, where people are preoccupied with whether or not to have intercourse with their cousin in the back of a Ford F-150 – had long been known, especially since its acquisition by Volkswagen in 1991, as a manufacturer of sensible cars for sensible people. Cars that worked, were priced fairly, and, crucially, had names that didn’t sound like prescription medications or a failed CAPTCHA test.

Fabia: Polo, but uglier and actually avaitable as a station wagon

Car for Secret CEO's of Planet

These were names like:

• Felicia – basically a smoothed-out Favorit with some Polo hand-me-downs.
• Fabia – a Volkswagen Polo, but less ashamed of being ugly.
• Octavia – a Golf that got a proper job.
• Superb – a Passat, just longer, cheaper and with umbrellas in the doors à la Rolls-Royce. Clarkson once called it one of the best affordable luxury cars....
• Roomster – a disturbing experiment in asymmetry.
• Yeti – a fridge on wheels with the face of a startled fish, but somehow brilliant. Even Clarkson loved it, which means something, somewhere went deeply right.

These vehicles – bland to some, beloved by others – were well-received both in Central Europe and abroad. They were cars that didn’t scream for attention. They just worked. They had heaters. They started in the cold. They didn’t have dashboards that looked like a nightclub for iPads.

And then came the MARKETING department, which – as hindsight shows – clearly stood for "Mutilating A Rational Kompany’s Entire Reputation Through Ideas Generously Idiotic, Thoroughly Insane and Completely Knobheaded."

Someone in this department, presumably after reading too many trend reports and sniffing one too many dry-erase markers, decided that being reasonable was lame. That giving cars cool, memorable, and pronounceable names was for losers. That the future was about Q.

Now, keep in mind – this was around the time MPVs (or as historians call them, Monumental Plastic Vomitboxes) began to fall out of fashion, and SUVs (Stupid Unnecessary Vehicles) began to take over suburban driveways like a fungus on asphalt.

So, a strategic meeting was held.

...However

No one knows exactly what happened in that meeting – some say it was a séance, others claim it was an exorcism gone wrong. What is clear is that the meeting room was found hours later in a state of devastation:

• vomit on the whiteboard,
• empty bottles of Fernet and plum brandy rolling around the floor,
• someone’s shoe lodged in a ceiling tile,
• and, disturbingly, the only legible writing in the room was a single letter scrawled across the wall: Q.

At a hastily convened follow-up meeting – with fewer windows and more resignation – someone timidly suggested:

"What if all our upcoming SUVs ended with a Q?"

And instead of throwing pens at him, ying him to the back of a Roomster and pushing it off the test track in Úhelnice, or killing him on spot (as tradition in Mladá Boleslav might dictate), everyone looked at each other... and said:

“Good idea.”

And so it began – the Q-Era of Škoda.

A time in which a rational company, with a proud tradition of building solid, humble cars with proper names, decided to label its SUVs with words that sound like either Icelandic fishing villages or failed Dungeons & Dragons characters.

Models

Škoda Kodiaq

Mainstream SUV which actually looks good...

It all started with the Škoda Kodiaq, unveiled in 2016. By Škoda standards — and even by broader European ones — it was fairly big, reasonably handsome, and impressively spacious. It even looked better than the car it was based on, the VW Tiguan Allspace — though that’s rather like saying herpes is preferable to syphilis. It's still an SUV: bulbous, heavy, and of course, overpriced for something built by a brand that, within the Volkswagen Group’s historical hierarchy, occupies the role of "Cars for the Untermensch."

And yet — it sold. Quite well, in fact. Which just goes to show that if you build a vehicle that’s priced like a compact premium SUV (think BMW X3) but offers the space of a BMW X5, you might just be onto something. In 2024, Škoda unveiled the second generation of the Kodiaq, proving once again that size, soft plastics, and badge engineering can go a very long way.

2nd Generation

You can also have Kodiaq RS: the performance version, if you can call it that. You get fake V8 engine noise piped through the speakers (yes, really), a big angry grille, and a 2.0-litre turbocharged four-cylinder engine making 265 horsepower — because Škoda, of course, is not allowed to make genuinely powerful cars. Somewhere in Wolfsburg, a stern German man in a suit would faint if anyone in Mladá Boleslav suggested a six-cylinder.

But to be fair: it’s fast enough, looks imposing in the rearview mirror, and gives the illusion of menace — which is all the average Kodiaq RS buyer wants, just before they reverse it into a Lidl parking space and pretend they’re in a Cayenne.

Škoda Karoq

Karoq

After the Kodiaq came the Karoq — essentially a smaller Kodiaq, for those who wanted the same experience but with less sheet metal and fewer parking issues. It looked almost identical, shared many of the same engines, and was built on the VW T-Roc platform — itself a car with a name that sounds like either a failed rapper or a discontinued energy drink.

Naturally, because Škoda is viewed by the overlords in Wolfsburg as the automotive equivalent of state-funded dental care, the Karoq never got the spicy versions its German cousin did. The VW T-Roc, for example, is available as a 300-horsepower R model and even as a convertible, presumably for people who want to look ridiculous and have their hair ruined simultaneously.

Karoq but cooler (a bit)

The Karoq? You get normal trims and the so-called Sportline, which includes exactly three sporty things:

• a black grille,
• a black roof,
• and black wheels.

And yes — you can have it with a diesel, because of course you can. There are people in České Budějovice who will drive nothing else until the sun explodes.

Despite its mediocrity — or perhaps because of it — the Karoq has been a runaway success. It’s been through two facelifts, though calling the first one a “facelift” is generous: it consisted of a new typeface on the boot lid and little else. A triumph of marketing minimalism.

And yet, it’s still in production. Because if there’s one thing Škoda knows how to do, it’s build cars that are completely unremarkable in every possible way — and exactly what 94% of the car-buying public wants.

Škoda Kamiq

Kamiq

The Škoda Kamiq was unveiled shortly after the Karoq and looks… almost exactly like the Karoq, just shrunk in the wash. It’s based on the VW T-Cross, itself a forgettable, joyless little crossover whose primary function seems to be making other small crossovers look exciting by comparison. In other words, the Kamiq exists, but no one knows why.

It underwent a facelift at one point — though unless you work for Škoda or accidentally walked into a dealership while looking for the toilet, you probably didn’t notice. Even Google had to check.

Volkswagen, ever protective of its brand hierarchy, apparently dictated that the Kamiq must not be attractive, which explains why it doesn’t come in a Sportline trim like its bigger siblings. Instead, Škoda was allowed to offer something called Monte Carlo, presumably to invoke memories of motorsport glory — victories, mind you, which this particular car had absolutely nothing to do with.

Yet again, Kamiq, but cooler, and with cool name

In typical Škoda fashion, the Monte Carlo edition features three "sporty" upgrades:

• a black roof,
• black wheels,
• and a black grille.

That’s it. No extra power, no special suspension, no go-faster bits. Just visual aggression to distract you from the 1.0-litre engine gasping for breath at 120 km/h on the D1.

And yet, much like its Q-brethren, the Kamiq continues to sell — because in a world where people buy cars based on monthly payments and boot size, a bland, small, slow crossover with some black plastic and a made-up name starting with "K" and ending in "Q" will do just fine.

Škoda Enyaq

Enyaq

In 2020, with much pomp, press releases, and probably an EDM remix of a corporate mission statement, Škoda unveiled its first all-electric SUV: the Enyaq. A car with a name so profoundly silly that even Enya — the actual Enya — sued them. She lost, of course, because the Volkswagen führers allegedly threatened to revive the NSDAP if anyone stood in the way of the Q-branding initiative.

So what is the Enyaq, exactly?

It’s an electric SUV that’s expensive, but sensibly equipped, and — surprise — it’s based on the VW ID.4, which sounds like either a sexually transmitted virus or a bad reboot of a 90s alien invasion movie. That said, the Enyaq does have some genuinely interesting qualities. Most notably, it’s Škoda’s first rear-wheel-drive car under VW, with the motor mounted at the back — a nostalgic nod to the old 742/746 Škodas (and for VW, a spiritual callback to the Beetle).

Enyaq, but even weirder

Unlike Volkswagen — which still seems terrified of giving its EVs any actual performance trims — Škoda went rogue. The Enyaq RS exists. It’s green. It’s fast(ish). It’s heavy. And it’s got a badge that says “RS” even though you can’t hear a damn thing it’s doing.

Oh, and it comes in two body styles:

• the normal SUV, and
• the SUV-Coupé, which is for people who want less space, more shame, and the aerodynamic profile of a bar of soap someone’s already dropped.

And above all: the Enyaq holds the dubious honour of being the most expensive civilian Škoda in history. A car that started life as a sensible people's brand now sells fully loaded variants for sums that, in rural Czechia, would buy you a house, three goats, and a heated garage.

It’s an electric symbol of everything Škoda has become: ambitious, compliant, slightly absurd, and coated in metallic green paint with fake exhaust vents on something that doesn’t even have an exhaust.

Škoda Elroq

Oopsie!

Earlier this year, Škoda unveiled — once again with fireworks, drones, and probably an influencer livestream from a warehouse in Ústí — its latest electric box-on-wheels: the Elroq. A name so staggeringly stupid it makes Enyaq sound like Shakespeare. It’s the kind of name that feels like someone mashed a Scrabble bag into a blender and shouted "Innovation!"

And what is the Elroq? Well — it’s literally just a smaller Enyaq. That’s it. It shares nearly everything with its bigger sibling, from platform to drivetrain to the general feeling of standing inside a very clean Czech appliance.

Naturally, it comes in an RS version, because why not slap a red badge on a two-tonne slab of electrons and call it sporty? And here’s the kicker: The Elroq RS is officially the fastest-accelerating Škoda in history. Which is… interesting, considering it looks like an ironing board fell in love with a filing cabinet and they raised a child on lithium-ion cells.

All of this is made even more surreal by the fact that Škoda, in its infinite corporate wisdom, decided to ditch the iconic winged arrow logo, which had adorned its cars since 1926. Why? Apparently, having an identity is for losers. The Elroq, instead, proudly wears Škoda’s new generic wordmark — a kind of soulless typographic shrug designed to appeal to international markets and confuse your grandma.

So yes, the Elroq is technically impressive. It’s fast. It’s efficient. It’s a perfect electric appliance.

But it’s also proof that somewhere along the line, Škoda looked at its heritage and said: “Let’s bury this in a shallow grave behind the design studio and hope no one asks questions.”

Honorable mentions

Škoda Kushaq & Škoda Kylaq

Uhhhh

These two proud bearers of the K–Q curse are small, awkward-looking boxes on wheels, designed specifically for the Indian market, where affordability and compact size outweigh minor concerns like proportions, elegance, or the ability to look at your car without wincing.

The Kushaq, aside from sounding like a gastrointestinal condition, is based on a localised platform and tries to be a baby SUV for Indian cities. The Kylāq — yes, that’s a real thing and not a rejected Klingon vowel exercise — is essentially the same idea, but even more obscure and even less justifiable in name or form.

Both models exist in a parallel dimension where Škoda has stopped pretending to care what their cars look like, as long as they have black cladding and a grille large enough to swallow a street dog.

Škoda Epiq

New Škoda Epiq

Coming soon to a charging station near you (or not), the Epiq will be the next addition to Škoda’s electrified alphabet soup. Another compact electric crossover, another randomly generated name, another car that looks like a Bluetooth speaker with daytime running lights.

The Epiq promises to be affordable, practical, sustainable, and yet completely indistinguishable from the dozens of other jellybean-shaped EVs flooding the market. No doubt it will be offered in a tasteful selection of grays, blues, and greens with eco-friendly plastics and optional ambient lighting to distract you from the fact that your car is called Epiq. Which is ironic, because absolutely nothing about it will be.

Another upqoming models

Tiny Urban SUV

• Škoda Pichuq – Compact, aggressive, and sounds very inappropriate in Slavic languages. Marketing slogan: “Drive it hard.”
• Škoda Shitq – Eco-friendly, brown-coloured, leaves a streak when it goes too fast.
• Škoda Titsuq– Built for the urban jungle. Also smells vaguely of wet dog and energy drinks.
• Škoda Cocq – Sharp, phallic, and absolutely banned in schools.
• Škoda Twerq – Aimed at Gen Z. Mostly built of recycled TikToks.

Compact/Mid-Size SUV

• Škoda Wanq – For lonely dads with performance issues. Comes with heated tissues.
• Škoda Bastardq – Born from a drunken one-night stand between an ID.4 and a hedge trimmer.
• Škoda Twatq – Designed for passive-aggressive urban drivers who flash their high beams in tunnels.
• Škoda Knobq – Includes chrome accents and a horn that sounds like toxic masculinity.
• Škoda Bolloq – Testicular in shape, spirit, and handling.

Full-Size SUV

• Škoda Dicq – Big, stiff, and overcompensating. Comes with useless roof rails.
• Škoda Fucq – The SUV for when you’ve given up on taste, grace, and restraint.
• Škoda Rageq – Zero off-road capability, but 100% road rage potential.
• Škoda Priq – Asserts dominance in roundabouts and outside kindergartens.
• Škoda Übercuntq – Not road-legal, but emotionally accurate.

See also

• Škoda
• VW