Land Rover Range Rover Supercharged
The darling of every soon-to- be, dark-polished diamond. The politico's first choice. With all the presence of an enormous prop in a well-cut suit arriving at the debutante ball in stillettos.
I want one, sure, but I don't get it. What is probably the worlds most capable four wheel drive, designed to get to 100 kilometers an hour from your well gravelled driveway in 6.2 seconds. Supported by a set of wheels shod in rubber bands that would struggle to cross a polo field if it had recently been lightly watered.
Don't get me wrong. The car is capable. Very capable. Drivetrain engineered to traverse the Alps with old Hanibal's private Dumbo collection. Wheel travel? check. Ground Clearance? Yup. Descent approach and departure angles? Oh yeah. Power to weight ratio, Hell yes. Wading depth 700mm.
Go try that in a Q7. I did. Once. We don't talk about that anymore.
Do you feel like a king on the road? Hell yes. From the first fully electronic instrument panel that actually works and is kindavery cool. A gazillion cameras to get the behemoth out of a tight squeeze in theZambezi, or at least the parking at the waterfront. Hill descent controls, ride height adjustability. Air suspension that feels right. Enough high quality leather to get an entire flotilla of lentil munchers frothing at their self-righteous mouths. If they weren't already a bit bubbly around the j a w f r o m t h e f u e l consumption.
A supercharger may be capable of 14l per 100km but let’s see you achieve that mister. Twenty was the best I got. Not that I tried hard.
The interior itself is an industrial design masterpiece, a study in perfection, elegance and luxury without ostentation. This is no low rent buggy. I personally adore the seats. Heating, cooling and enough adjustment to keep the three year-old in you busy for hours. The heated steering wheel is a great touch. Touch screen user interface that works, pity you, or your passenger for that matter, can't adjust the satnav while moving. The ergonomics are great.
The thing feels hewn out of solid metal. Superbly comfortable, eats up bad freeways with aplomb.
The thing is built to use every superlative they ever handed out in the motoring journalists' official cliché guide. Here’s the thing, then chuck it around a set of the darling of every soon-to- be, dark-polished diamond. The politico's first choice. With all the presence of an enormous prop in a well-cut suit arriving at the debutante ball in stillettos. I want one, sure, but I don't get it. What is probably the worlds most capable four wheel drive, designed to get to 100 kilometers an hour from your well gravelled driveway in 6.2 seconds. Supported by a set of wheels shod in rubber bands that would struggle to cross a polo field if it had recently been lightly watered. Don't get me wrong. The car is capable. Very capable. Drivetrain engineered to traverse the Alps with old Hanibal's private Dumbo collection. Wheel travel? check. Ground Clearance? Yup. Descent approach and departure angles? Oh yeah. Power to weight ratio, Hell yes. Wading depth 700mm. Go try that in a Q7. I did. Once. We don't talk about that anymore. Do you feel like a king on the road? Hell yes. From the first fully electronic instrument panel that actually works and is kindavery cool. A gazillion cameras to get the behemoth out of a tight squeeze in the corners at speed? Sure you can, but it don't feel right. Or good.
It ain't no sports car. Fast sure, precise and rapier like? Hardly. Not wallowy or overly wobbly, it is assured and the electrickery will keep things nice and upright.
But it does not feel like fun. Straight line speed sure, but that is for the Yanks, and the damn four-wheel drive system stops you leaving hooligan like black stripes, hot-rod style anyway
So to it's cross (real?) purpose. Off road. Immensely capable in the right shoes, it sure is. No-one in their right mind is going to put steel rims and high wall mud-slinging rubber on this baby. Ever. So what is the point?
Perfect for the upwardly rising bureaucrat or arrived despot. Wonderful to tow dear Tifanny's pony for the horsey set. But I think bloody useless to drop 1¼ bar on a pseudo sports-4x4-limousine for the dyed in the wool petrol head.
So why the hell did I hate giving the damn keys back then?
