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On a philosophical
level, the Range Rover never made any sense whatsoever.
When I eventually compile my book of the world's greatest
oxymorons,
"luxury off-roader" is going to be right at the front,
ahead, even of "fun
fair" and "economy class."
History, however, proves that the idea has worked well, although
even then
perhaps not entirely as expected. Legend has it that the concept
was
inspired by complaints from the British farming community--they
wanted a
vehicle that would prevail over agricultural terrain in the way
only a Land
Rover could, yet was plush enough for taking Mrs. Farmer into town
for a
night out. For once, someone listened to farmers, and the Land
Rover Range
Rover, one of the most iconic and significant cars in the history
of the
British motor industry, was born. That was 1970.
Curiously, something similar happened in Australia, but there the
outcome
was the "coop ute"--the coupe utility, a sort of pick-up
truck with a posh
cab. Not really as good.
It did not take long for the Range Rover to break free of its
intended
remit, becoming, as is well documented, the favoured transport of
Hollywood
moguls and "Chelsea farmers." For transcending the
yawning chasm between
essential rural kit and indulgent urban chic, the Range Rover soon
rivalled
the wellington boot. Few people actually used their Range Rovers
in the
countryside, either.
For the new model, only the third in 32 years, Land Rover has
taken the
opportunity to effect a complete reversal of the Range Rover
priorities.
What was once an unashamed off-road workhorse paying token fealty
to
comfort is now an out-and-out luxury express in which all-terrain
capability is presented as a bonus. One wonders why these people
won't
simply admit defeat and build a limousine. Then again, that would
not be a
true Land Rover. Off-road capability can be regarded in the way
the
driver's airbag is; that is, one hopes never to have to use it,
but it is
nice to know that it will work. Furthermore, there is a hard-core
pith-helmet-and-comedy-shorts contingent at Land Rover, but I
shall come on
to that lot in a moment.
Starting from the inside, the new Range Rover makes a startling
contrast
with the original. The 1970 model seems painfully austere by
modern
standards, but it must be remembered that it was unveiled at a
time when a
traditional Land Rover would have been considered fully specified
if it
actually had a roof. The cabin--inspired, apparently, by the Riva
motor
launch and the wheelhouses of luxury yachts--features hide, wood
and modern
textured plastics. It is a curious mixture of boat, country house
and
Swedish hi-fi, and surprisingly successful. In an age when so many
car
interiors seem to have been hewn from a single piece of burnt
toast, it is
pleasing to find a proper "assembled" facia. The seats
are superb and the
view commanding.
From without, the Range Rover still looks like one, and
established
styling features such as large glass area, the rear pillars, the
clamshell
bonnet and the general impression that it was drawn with a ruler
and pencil
have been retained, even though the body (of unitary construction
rather
than with a separate chassis) is entirely new.
It looks the way it does for good reason. It begins with the
seating
position, which must be high to allow a view over hedges and into
ditches;
the glasshouse is upright and the flanks flat so that driver might
look
straight down at the boulders he is trying to avoid; the lower
edges of the
nose and tail taper sharply upwards so they can clear sharp
inclines; and
the bonnet is square-cut so the car's extremes can be easily
judged.
Beneath that vast bonnet beats one of two excellent BMW engines.
The
presence of either the 4.4-litre V8 petrol engine or the 3.0-litre
six-cylinder diesel from Munich is the legacy of BMW's brief
custody of the
Solihull factory. The Range Rover was conceived internally,
developed under
BMW ownership, and completed with Land Rover as part of the Ford
empire. It
is a combination of British design flair and German engineering
excellence.
Still, it could have been worse. It could have been the other way
round.
The new vehicle (Land Rover refuses to use the word
"car") was launched at
Skibo Castle in Scotland, a truly pukka country seat whose
credentials can
be established with the mere fact that the lavatory paper is not
formed
into a point. Unfortunately, it is right out in the cuds, which
meant the
Land Rover old guard alluded to earlier could not resist
subjecting us to
two hours of rigorous off-road driving, some of it at night. I
arrived at
the end, as usual, badly shaken, although not so badly as I would
have been
in the previous model. Various valves maintaining true
independence of the
all-round air-sprung independent suspension saw to that.
The Range Rover is something of a doddle to drive in the rough,
since
electronics take care of traction control and Land Rover's Hill
Descent
System, the low-range gearbox can be selected on the roll with a
fingertip
movement (useful when towing horseboxes, apparently), and the
automatic
gearbox can be controlled manually. The hardest part of the course
was
trying to imagine why anyone who paid up to 60,000 pounds for a
luxury car
would want to subject it to such treatment. So that's enough off-roading
then.
On proper Tarmac the Range Rover is a revelation. The ride is
exemplary;
not just be the standards of off-roaders (which would not be much
of an
accolade) but in comparison with real saloon cars. The steering,
too, is
much more preceise than it has been in any Range Rover to date.
And it is truly comfy and magnificently equipped, to the extent
that the
air-suspended body can be made to squat when coming to a halt for
an
elegant dismount, in the way that other cornerstone of all-terrain
travel,
the camel, can. But the Range Rover, by dint of its leather-lined
cabin,
smells much better.
Through bends the Range Rover still has some difficulty in
disguising its
bulk--it weighs 2.5 tons and from the window one may readily stub
out
cigars on the roofs of passing Volvo estates. The V8 engine
especially is
deceptively powerful and the BMW gearbox shifts with silky
alacrity, but
the Range Rover is still best driven in chauffeur mode; guided,
not hustled
along. This could be considered a safety feature, as it encourages
restraint.
My criticisms would be that it has become almost too massive and
that it
seems to like a drink. I could not better 16 mpg in the V8 petrol
and even
the supposedly frugal diesel lingered in the low 20s.
That apart, on winding A- and B-roads the new Range Rover felt,
incongruously enough, like an accomplished grand touring car. See
what I
mean? It makes no sense. This may be what makes its so British. It
is
definitely what makes it so appealing.
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