Our Cars: Land Rover Defender

Happily though, and at least for us, this one’s going to be working for another few months before it gets rehomed elsewhere. So why this car and why now? The answer is that it’s a Defender and we’ve been after one since the day we first drove it. Were it not for the dratted chip shortage and a general paucity of cars in the network, we’d have had it a lot sooner than this.

We wanted one simply because there is such a terrific story behind it. As a long-time owner of an original Series Landie (and that’s what they are to us), I was front and centre among new Defender sceptics. I knew that simple economics alone would dictate the new car would be built on a monocoque frame without live axles, like almost all other cars in the world. But that appeared to rule out at a single stroke any chance of it actually replacing the old Defender in anything other than name alone. So what was the point?

I didn’t see it until I drove it. Only then did I learn its point was actually to replace the Discovery, even though Land Rover would never admit as much. And by that I don’t mean the current car, which is no more or less than a more practical, less attractive Range Rover Sport, but all those Discoverys that came before. The hard working, all-purpose family bus. The most honest and, because of that, important car in Land Rover’s line-up.

And the new Defender did that job superbly, with all the connectivity, ride, refinement and equipment without which a modern family car simply won’t sell, but with just enough sense of adventure in those exposed screw heads, grab handles and barely carpeted floors to provide that feeling of authenticity Land Rover’s most off-road capable car must have.

But then they went further. There were two wheelbases to be had and, would you believe it, steel wheels that could be optioned in at no cost. Then came news of the commercial version, or Hardtop as Land Rover likes to call it. For a brand that has spent so long trying to elevate itself into the clouds where the likes of Bentley, Lamborghini and Rolls-Royce now reside, it was refreshing to say the least to find one with its feet more firmly rooted to the ground. Or, for that matter, mud.

The car has another quality though, one on which I usually hesitate to comment because I am such a poor arbiter of such things and, frankly, almost all the time, I couldn’t care less about it. But the Defender is cool. Or at least a short-wheelbase Defender on steel wheels is cool. The first time I drove it, I went to my local fuel station to fill its tank for the first time and was startled to hear someone shouting ‘Oi’ at me from across the forecourt.

There stood an oil-stained young man in filthy clothes and an even filthier beanie hat filling his quite staggeringly filthy Disco 2 with diesel. ‘That is one cool car,’ he observed, ‘one day, I’m going to have one. Might take me a bit of time, but I’ll get there.’ Which, given the origin, I took as praise indeed. He appeared not to think it ‘slightly pretentious’ as one Instagram respondent suggested, let alone a cliché, and if it’s good enough for him, it’s good enough for me.

So what is it? It’s a P300 HSE, which means it’s got a 296bhp, 2-litre petrol turbo engine. I could have had a diesel and were this my car it absolutely would be diesel even in this day and age, but the only diesel available was a long wheelbase car, which would have been far more useful too, but… I think after over half a century mocking fashion victims, I appear to be turning into one myself. I just find the look of the short car irresistible. So petrol it is, to the considerable inconvenience of my bank balance.

The HSE model means it’s one off the bottom of the range, or at least it was because it’s not on Land Rover’s configurator any more, but the major equipment additions include a panoramic sliding sunroof I will never, ever use, 20in alloys I’ve already binned in favour of standard 18in steelies, heated and cooled front seats which I admit I quite like as I do the sound system upgrade, and a ‘Driver Assist Pack’ for a driver who still feels he’s in no need of assistance.

From the options list comes Eiger grey paint, a front jump seat just like that in my old Series car, off-road tyres (but not full knobblies) and an electronic centre differential which I hope will come in handy when the serious off-roading begins. And privacy glass I would very happily live without. All in the car cost £59,220 when new, against a list price before extras of £55,755.

For now I’m just getting used to it, but will point out a few things that are better than expected: the ride is splendid, which I expect has plenty to do with its tall sidewalls and small wheels and while I hate the ‘Pivi Pro’ name of its infotainment, it is in a different world to the hateful system it replaces, which to me was grounds not to buy a previous generation Land Rover all by itself. In fact it’s really good. On the negative side, the boot is even smaller than I remembered and the fuel consumption? Looks like 25mpg if you’re trying hard, 20 if you’re not. Am I regretting passing up that long wheelbase diesel? Not for a minute.