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The
Range Rover's Return - James May, Country Life, 31 January 2002
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.
Range Rover 2001/2002 Models |
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