MUCH like making a mountain goat do an
elephant’s work, I felt a tad cruel entrusting the job of moving house to an
ancient off-roader.
The unenviable task of hauling beds,
armchairs and about 300 old copies of Autocar really ought to be given to
something specially designed for the task, not unlike the Ford Transit Luton
van I used the last time I moved any furniture about. Yet last week, with every
van hire firm within a 40-mile radius fully booked, the gargantuan load-lugging
challenge fell instead to a Land Rover Discovery.
A family off-roader which celebrates its 25th
anniversary later this year.
Fittingly, the one I’d been lent for the
morning by a mate was one of the early cars – the original three-door version,
with a 2.5 litre diesel lump to drag its considerable weight along school runs
up and down the land in the early Nineties. It also came in exactly the sort of
condition you expect any early Disco to arrive in these days – caked, inside
and out, with a thin sheet of muck from an off-road excursion several weeks
earlier.
While borrowing a 160,000 mile Land Rover
to help you with moving house might seem a bit like entering Sir Chris
Bonington into World’s Strongest Man, it performed more than admirably, heaving
shelves and chairs of all kinds of clutter about without so much a whimper of
complaint. It even happily sat at precisely 69.9mph on a dual carriageway –
even though it took an eternity to get there!
Admittedly, the poor Landie lurched its way
through roundabouts, chomped up £30’s worth of diesel in no time and had the
acceleration and stopping capabilities of the Mersey Ferry, but I couldn’t help
but warm to it. It’s got a rugged charm to it, it feels far more car-like to
drive than the Defenders I’ve tried and it’s enormously practical, and that’s
before I get to the best bit.
A lot like the Audi TTs I mentioned in
these pages a few weeks ago, the Land Rover Discovery is astonishing value for
money these days.
Yes, I know they’ve got a crummy reputation
for build quality and a penchant for Shell’s finest but think about it – where
else can you can get seven seats and unstoppable ability on the rough stuff for
the same sort of money? The only thing I can think of is its great Oriental
arch-nemesis, the Mitsubishi Shogun, but it doesn’t come with the wax-jacketed,
Countryfile image the Disco does.
The Land Rover Discovery, especially in
mud-caked, worn-out spec, is far from perfect. Yet you can’t help liking it.
No comments:
Post a Comment