Range Rover
This is only the fifth generation Range Rover to have surfaced in just over 50 years. And that -given that most cars are (at the very least) face-lifted every two to three years these days and that we’re relentlessly induced to junk and replace them with a frequency more usually associated with white goods- is all the more remarkable for the fact that the first generation car alone accounts for almost 50% of that half century.
Launched in 1970, the first Spen King conceived, David Bache designed ‘Car for all Reasons’ was a far cry from today’s offering. For starters it was a proper working vehicle: it had almost Land Rover Defender levels of interior hose down-ability, and, it might be argued, actually looked better boasting a good caking of mud. The only place you’ll find real mud in this car’s heartland is beside the Thames at low tide, and you’d no more fire a hose into its cabin than you would rub mustard into the fur of a kitten…
However, in the legendary absence of reliability (amazing how many owners still come back for more), pedigree and brand halo become significantly more important, and JLR’s felt-tip fairies are quick to point out the five pillars that award visual continuity to Range Rover design history: the clamshell bonnet, floating roof, pronounced waistline, falling roofline and rising sill.
Actually, the rising sill didn’t appear until the third generation car, and the falling roofline the fourth. But there’s no overlooking just how artfully the design evolution of this master of wet gymkhana grass has been handled over successive generations.
That strong waistline and hull-reminiscent curve of the rising sill have awarded something of the superyacht for the southern counties to the Range Rover for a while now, and this car exacerbates that impression with gloriously tight shut lines and panel gaps adding to the sense of floatable object.
Less successful are the flush-mounted door handles, which look somewhat clunky when presenting themselves for entry and which, on the driver’s door of the specimen I drove, refused to bed down properly, spoiling the sense of svelte like the sacrificial node on a racing yacht hull interrupting the smooth sweep of graphite paintwork.
The rear of the car positively yells superyacht transom; a concave panel flanked by thin, upright black blades which conceal the tail-lights when not illuminated. Happily, the split tailgate has survived, though it now only supports the weight of two burly beings rather than the seven point-to-point picnickers of yore.
Under a new skin so tightened and smoothed that the gently ill-considered application of Botox springs to mind, everything is new. Land Rover says it has taken out 125 patents for the car and carried out a rigorous development programme that encompassed 140,000 hours of computational analysis.
An all-new, 80% aluminium chassis works in conjunction with Land Rover’s Integrated Chassis Control which, the company says, moves the car from ‘a mechanical world to a mechatronic ecosystem.’ Yes, of course I had to look it up. Apparently, mechatronics is an interdisciplinary branch of engineering that focuses on the integration of mechanical, electrical and electronic engineering systems. So; exactly what you’ll find in all modern cars, then…
What that equates to in the Range Rover’s cabin is, however, particularly elegant -almost spartan- and admirably well screwed together; it’s pretty much impossible to find naff switchgear or a duff button anywhere. Door-sponsored entertainment continues on board, in spades; power assistance is available, radar and ultrasonic sensors detect hazards and the doors can even recognise inclines.
And you can close the driver’s door in no less than four different ways: pressing the brake pedal, via the central touchscreen, using a switch by the grab handle, or just pulling it shut with the handy tool on the end of your arm. In the hope that car thieves -who are notoriously fond of a Rangie- will find a somewhat smaller number of ways to get the door open, ultra-wide band transceivers are now used for improved security.
A new 13.1-inch touchscreen floats atop the dashboard centre, the flat-screen-TV-on-the-wall look solving two key mechatronic issues; no need to integrate it within a dashboard panel too slim for the job, and less heat build-up within the dash. Infotainment has improved out of all recognition, and the enhanced Pivi Pro system deployed here features fine graphics and a decent turn of speed. It also had Alexa voice AI built-in, which works in the familiar manner.
Less wholesome is a climate control system on a separate screen which, though considerately sporting bufton buttons for temperature and fan speed, relegates the directing of airflow to a daft on-screen graphic which -when full auto failed to cut the mustard- simply refused to shunt air as I wished.
Given Land Rover’s track record of subcontracting seat manufacture to a company that clearly never actually sat on their creations for more than 30 seconds, it’s a relief to say that, though firm, this car’s seats are actually comfortable enough to not punish you over a long haul. Miles off the ground, the driving position is every bit as regal as any Range Rover owner expects.
Mercifully shunning four-cylinder units, the new range Rover is available with a choice of turbocharged 3.0 litre straight-six petrol or diesel engines, all with mild hybrid assistance and all-wheel drive via an eight-speed automatic gearbox. Two PHEVs have recently joined the range, the lesser wedding the 394 bhp straight-six turbo petrol engine to a 141 bhp electric motor and quoting the usual ridiculous plug-in hybrid fuel consumption and CO2 figures; in this case 333.8 mpg and 19 g/km. At the top of the range, a 4.4 litre twin-turbo V8 from BMW delivers added woofle and 0-62 mph in well under 5 seconds -scalded bungalow territory.
I drove the D350 diesel variant which, boasting 345 bhp and 516 lb ft of torque is more than quick enough and, in every other dynamic department, just fabulous.
There’s a shed-load of technology hard at work under the skin here: within a body structure 35% stiffer than that of the outgoing car we find a new electronic anti-roll control system, heavily revised air suspension including a new five-link rear configuration, rear-wheel steering to improve stability at speed and urban manoeuvrability, torque vectoring, and intelligent all-wheel drive which decouples the front axle on tarmac between 21 and 100 mph to enhance efficiency.
On the move, the Range Rover is utterly imperious. Thumping down the motorway with levels of serenity and cosset that thoroughly belie the attendant pace has always been a Rangie hallmark. But the new car now lobs a healthy dollop of added dynamism to the equation.
The steering is perfectly weighted and, abetted by rear-wheel steering, offers admirable precision (as well as an hilariously tight, sub-11 metre turning circle). Though permitting just enough body roll to remind you that you’re helming a five metre, two and half tonne monsterpiece, those trick anti-roll bars gang up with the revised suspension to exile all the vagueness and wallow that used to accompany proceedings, adding an enthusiastic, well controlled waft to A road progress previously reserved for the outside lane only.
I didn’t have the opportunity to drive off-road, but have no reason to doubt that, with air suspension adjustable to nosebleed heights, locking differentials, selectable low range, all the trickery of Terrain Response 2 software and a maximum wading depth of 900mm at its disposal, the car will be every bit as able as any Land Rover oughter.
Looking at the price tag, however, which pushes Range Rover ever closer to the limits (and beyond) of affordability for us mere mortals with every new generation, I’m not sure the marque has remained entirely true to its ‘Car for all Reasons’ roots. Does anyone ever fling a Rangie into a river? I did heap that indignity on a Bentley Bentayga once. But it wasn’t mine.