Flip through the latest issue of Gulf Weekly.
AS you well know, it's a war out there. Traffic-calming devices where you least expect them on the back roads of
You’re going to need a Land Rover Defender 90 SW 2.4 diesel, then. It’s the vehicle for today’s roads – conceived under postwar conditions, built for battle and the battle-hardened.
It might not actually survive a direct impact from a V2 rocket shell, but it would almost certainly get you through the crater that one had left earlier.
No other 4x4 says, “Down and give me 10, soldier” quite so commandingly.
It’'s stubby and squared off, and, in the configuration I tested, carries only four people at a time, plus their luggage.
Yet, despite that moderate length, the vehicle sits sensationally high, enabling it to clear kerbs, boulders and the occasional flinching terrorist. And, accordingly, entry into the lofty cabin is bracingly gained either by using the metal step or via a pommel horse (not supplied).
It’s a chunky, go anywhere, tow anything, shunt anyone, muscular combat vehicle, then, and it expects a bit of muscle in return. You don’t just close the doors, for instance, as you might in some other, more driver-coddling vehicle. You’ve got to shut them like you mean it, giving them an almighty “wang” in the manner of Pa Walton exiting his Depression-wrecked truck.
Similarly, operating the gearstick across its huge, deliberate intervals is a work-out for the entire upper-body region.
Indeed, getting my Defender into reverse called for a run-up and a two-fisted heave, and almost saw me go head-first through the passenger side window on many occasions.
The windscreen, meanwhile, stands to attention, almost vertical, which means it is endearingly prone to bug-splatter.
Remember bug-splatter? Possibly you don't. Today’s aerodynamic car shapes, honed in wind tunnels, suck the bugs up and over the roof.
Whereas I had only gone 100 yards in the Defender before the screen was stippled with mashed insects.
I activated the screen wash and the militarily stiff wiper blades but this only had the effect of creating an insect paste, even more opaque than before, which I settled for squinting through, all the way home.
Still, coastguards wouldn’t go to work in anything less, nor people on expeditions to the Sahara or, as may be,
The rear-view mirror shakes, the gearstick judders, the chassis pitches and yaws, and the engine’s roar swallows all hope of hearing the radio or anyone who isn’t prepared to shout at drill-sergeant volumes.
Climbing down after a few kilometres of this, the muscles in my arms and legs were telling me I had spent not two hours in a car but six hours on one of those static ski-walk machines in a gym. Plus my vision was blurred.
And I was deaf.
Yet so much of modern driving is about removing the effort from driving altogether – to the point where it barely feels like driving at all – and you would never say that about the Defender.
When the numbness eventually wore off, it was replaced by a warm, fraternal glow.
I’d been somewhere. I’d seen some action. And I’d got back home. It felt good.
Here’s what you get
Model: Land Rover Defender 90 SW 2.4 diesel.
Top speed: 82mph (132kph).
Acceleration: 0-60mph (0-96.5kph) in 14.7 seconds.
Consumption: 28.3mpg (12kpl) (combined).
CO² emissions: 266g/km, Eco rating 4/10.
In a word: Unflinching.
