Land Rover Defender 110S

The iconic Land Rover Defender is a tough act to follow but Charlie Flindt seeks the original’s soul in the brilliant, all-new, high-tech version

- Charlie Flindt

WHEN the invitation to go and drive the new Defender finally arrived, there was concern at Flindt Towers: I’d been allocated the Glorious Twelfth. If I wasn’t in my combine harvester, I’d surely be on a northern moor. But, come the day, the harvest gods smiled and there was nothing fit to harvest, and dozens of shoot invites had once again failed to arrive.

So, having loaded a couple of lorries with what I hoped would be malting barley, I headed up the A34 with a clear conscience. But I was still troubled. How should I approach this new machine? With awe and reverence at the rebirth of a great British motoring icon, with Land Rover’s reputation (not to mention Slovakian jobs) at stake? Or should I view it with cold detachment, as if checking out a new pair of wellies? I went for wellies.

As a result, the long and detailed lecture by Prof Gerry McGovern on the Defender’s multiple and subtle yet powerful design cues (part of the pre-test ‘webinar’ we’d been asked to watch) went straight into the mental dustbin. I walked up and down the line of waiting cars, kicked a chunky tyre, shrugged my shoulders and decided that, yes, it’s a bit fussy, but it looks like a Defender – in places.

The back, for instance, with its sideopening door and full spare wheel mounted on it. The ‘alpine’ skylights are there but the curious white square in the glass above the rear wheels left me scratching my head. Somewhere to show off one’s favourite LP cover, perhaps? (Olivia Newton John by Helmut Newton, since you ask.) And it’s very square.