If I knew you were coming I'd have baked you a cake, and all that. Oh, someone did! And dropped it off in a helicopter yesterday, somewhat improbably, April 30 being the official date commemorating Land Rover's 65th birthday.
1949 Series I - slow, challenging but fun
Now, my driving opportunities may be limited but I reckoned the chance to trundle about in some old Landies to help see in the brand's birthday seemed like a giggle. So I've been enjoying a bit of Land Rover hospitality here at the Packington Estate in Warwickshire where the very first Land Rovers were developed.
And I've managed to pretty much go round in date order, starting with a 1949 version from the second year of production. Rusty driving skills or not, it wasn't the easiest thing to get moving, comedy gold ensured by manfully selecting first gear with the long, waggly gear knob and ... moving off backwards. I meant to do that, honest.
Short gearing meant I was swiftly through the four gears and humming along the Packington Estate roads. An exploratory prod of the brake pedal revealed this had more effect on the Series 1's direction than the steering wheel, which had a fair bit of slop to overcome to correct the dramatic lurch to the left. An early demonstration of the Range Rover Sport's torque vectoring by braking, then, and the first of many close shaves for the over inquisitive pheasants.
1965 Series II belonged to Spencer Wilks
I managed to get it stuck on some fairly innocuous looking ruts, a watching Land Rover man helpfully suggesting "just get a run-up at it and you'll be fine." I was indeed. Bouncing about on the grass it felt like a proper farmyard appliance but heaps of fun and with the wind whistling through the canvas (and gaps in the panels) I felt very much lord of the manor.
The Series II I drove next showed how much things progressed in just a decade, the II coming in 1958 and the one I drove dating from 1965 and originally belonging to Land Rover MD Spencer Wilks for use at his retreat on Islay. It felt like a much more grown-up car, the 2.25-litre petrol engine smoother and a lot (well, all things are relative) punchier but the interior still stripped bare and agricultural in feel. And my elbow instantly settled into the characteristic position hanging out of the window, as sported by the ruddy faced farmers I used to see driving round in them as a kid. With the canvas top removed, easier gears, and brakes that actually worked, it felt like an Evoque compared with the Series I.
Decadent luxury by old-school Landie standards
A smaller step to the Series III station wagon; the 109-inch long-wheelbase felt a lot more refined and less bouncy over the bumps than the short-wheelbase Series I and II, which at times threatened to bounce me out of the seat.
And just as I was getting comfortable I swapped to the Series III Lightweight military spec short-wheelbase. Lordy! NVH? Try being deafened by the rattle of the body work, kicked in the guts by the suspension and then having various parts of your body skinned on sharp, exposed metal for a full explanation of the concept. Though it did feel usefully more chuckable with much lighter steering than any of the others. Certainly more so than the forward-control version which, cool V8 or not, made even the Series I feel like the last word in sophistication. It doesn't need a load bed full of squaddies with rifles to feel lethal.
The Queen's V8 Defender - sadly not driven
Finally then to the LXV 'birthday edition' version of the current Defender. There's barely any exposed metal in the Landie any more, the suspension actually does a half decent job and you can palm the wheel from lock to lock with easy power assistance, but you can still feel the bloodline back to that Series I in the seating position and general demeanour. Pensionable it may be but, like our
Landie-loving Queen
, it shows no sign of abdicating its crown any time soon.