A TECHNOLOGICALLY SOPHISTICATED OFF-ROADER
The new Velar is everything a Range Rover should be, and sportier than you’d expect, write David Booth and Graeme Fletcher.
When minds that seldom agree clash, you end up with Driving contributors David Booth and Graeme Fletcher bantering about the merits of Range Rover’s all-new Velar. Is it a case of clinging to the past too much for its own good, or a shift in direction that gives the owner the ability to get away from it all in style? David Booth: Deep in the bowels of the Range Rover Velar’s myriad computer displays — and there truly are many — are some readouts that tell you exactly how far Land Rover has come from its origins of muddy Series I and Defenders chasing errant sheep. Oh, you have to probe deep into the Vehicle Settings department — and even then only if you have the system in “Dynamic” mode — but one of the novelties is a lap timer. Indeed, there’s even a “g-force” monitor to illuminate how many lateral gs you’re pulling when you slam around yet another hairpin turn.
Both are features that would not be out of place in a Porsche 911 Turbo or Ferrari’s 488 GTB. But, referencing the aforementioned Land Rover origins, I’m not sure there’s enough decimal points in the Velar’s lap timer to record a Defender’s leisurely amble around the back 40. And the only time a circa 1950s or 1960s Defender could have triggered anything like the gs the Velar’s monitor records is if some poor dim-witted shepherd drove it off a cliff. All of which is to say that, despite all the specifications in the Velar brochure quoting ground clearance, wading depths and angles of departure, this latest Range Rover is a greater departure from Land Rover’s past as the company has ever conceived. Graeme Fletcher: I share many of your sentiments. I do not remember being so intimidated by an infotainment interface since BMW’s original iDrive. I was equally overwhelmed by the fact that every facet of the Velar is accessed through one of two touch screens, plus a touchsensitive pad on the left side of the steering wheel or a pair of rotary knobs. The latter change function according to the menu selected, which seemed to compound the complexity.
By the end of the test, I had learned to use the touch screens with ease, although the steering wheel touch pad continued to confound me. Again, what it did changed with the menu selected.
Of all of the functions, the one that’s a must to master is vehicle settings. It allows the Velar to be customized more than anything I remember driving. Picking the vehicle menu in the lower screen gives access to Eco, Normal and Dynamic modes, along with some off-road settings. Once in Dynamic, it allows the steering, suspension, engine and transmission to be selected for comfort (Normal) or Sport modes.
The preferred settings can be saved or changed on the fly. Pick Sport, and it hunkers things down and gives the big crossover some real dynamism to the way it feels; it drives like a much smaller vehicle with an athletic response to all inputs, which inspired this driver’s confidence when out strafing a back road.
Then there are those off-road settings. There’s one for just about every eventuality, includ- ing chasing errant sheep across the moors through waist-deep mud. Here, the confusion arose again. Is a Velar owner about to tackle the lower slopes of Mount Everest in the built-for-Batman vehicle? Not a chance.
DB: No, I don’t think so either. Familiar the badge and the shape may be, the Velar really is a twobox F-Type: all growly motor and stiff suspension. The engine is virtually the same as the F-Type S, which is to say it pumps out 380 horsepower from its 3.0-litre supercharged V-6, and it accelerates the Velar with — using teddy English vernacular — alacrity. It even growls a bit, although in this regard I wished it more stringently emulated its Jaguar cousin.
GF: I agree with both the noise and pick up comments. In Dynamic mode, I clocked the run from rest to 100 km/h at 5.8 seconds; for a 2,098-kilogram ride, that’s pretty quick. That, however, is not where the engine, eight-speed automatic transmission and all-wheel drive shine as a combination; the setup delivers a stunning 80-to-120 km/h passing move of 3.6 seconds. Credit the healthy 332 pound-feet of torque and the fact it hangs in from 3,500 to 5,000 rpm. That, in my teddy English vernacular, is alacrity personified. I did venture slightly off-road and the Velar proved to be equally at home pounding a muddy, potholed logging road as it was hooning through a series of switchbacks.
The other aspect that surprised me was the flexibility and available space. Outwardly, it looks like the cabin is going to be hog-tied by the Darth Vader-like looks, but this is not the case. The 673 L with the seats up is enough for a full quotient of golf bags. Dropping the middle row opens up 1,985 L, which is respectable for something that’s more about the sports side of its personality than it is about utility.
DB: What you’re saying, Graeme, is that the Velar, despite all those pretensions to Jaguar-ism is still very much a Range Rover, i.e. wading in and out of streams, with or without screaming kids in the back and Buster the Labrador in the trunk. Indeed, I’d have to say that has been Range Rover’s greatest strength as of late: expanding the envelope while still retaining Land Rover’s core qualities. That the Velar strays so far from the Defender’s original intent yet retains all (OK, most) of its qualities is what separates Land Rover from lesser hawking SUVs. And, of course, why people are willing to pay $91,410 for the privilege.