A FARMER’S FERRARI

At last, a Range Rover Sport that does almost everything

IN the old days, when it was possible to make a few shillings from cultivating the land, farmers could afford two cars. They had a Land Rover, on which they could lean while gnawing a pork pie. And perhaps a Humber for nights out. But then consumers got it into their heads that the correct price for a pint of milk was about 6p less than it costs to make. They reckoned bread should be 1p a loaf, and meat should be pretty much free. This meant farmers couldn’t afford two cars any more.

Happily, Land Rover came to the rescue in 1970 with the Range Rover. It was brilliant. The world’s first dual-purpose vehicle. For just £2 000 you had a car that would bumble about with some pigs in the back, and then, after work, you could hose down the interior and use it as a limousine for a trip with Mrs Farmer to the theatre.

The last Range Rover Sport was also a dualpurpose vehicle. It suited both footballers and their wives. You could use it to distribute pharmaceuticals during the day, and in the evening it was a stable gun platform should a drive-by shooting be necessary.

I know lots of people who have what I call the proper Range Rover. I’m struggling to think of any friend in the country who doesn’t have one. But I know only one chap who has a Sport. And there’s no other way of putting this: he’s called Gary. A point made plain by his registration plate.

The main problem, however, with the Range Rover Sport was that it wasn’t a Range Rover. It was based on the Discovery, which meant it came with a complex double chassis system. That made it heavy. And that meant it wasn’t a Sport either. Then there was the tailgate. In a proper Range Rover it splits, and you can use the bottom half as a seat when you are at a point-topoint. The Sport just had a hatchback, like a VW Golf.

I thought it was more of a marketing exercise than a genuine piece of engineering. And I harboured similar worries about the new model. For 43 years Land Rover has been demonstrating that you can make a car that works well off road and is still comfortable and refined on the road. But if you try to make it into a triple-purpose car by putting some sportiness into the mix, you’re going to come a cropper.

Think of it as a stout brogue. You can use such a thing on a country walk. And you can use it while window shopping. But you cannot use it in a 100m race, unless you want to lose. And that’s what the Range Rover Sport is attempting to be: a brogue that works on the moors and in central London . . . and on a squash court.

A sports car must have direct, quick steering. But if you do that with a Range Rover, you will find the steering wheel bucks and writhes on rough ground. A sports car must have firm suspension too, but that’s precisely what you don’t want on a ploughed field. I therefore approached the new Range Rover Sport with dread. But I emerged a bit astounded because somehow Land Rover seems to have pulled off the impossible.

It’s not sporty. Let’s be very clear about that. The throttle response is too slow, and the engine in my test car was too dieselly, and the steering, though quicker than I was expecting, is not as quick as it is on, say, a Ferrari F12. But it does have a sporty feel, which is quite good. In Dynamic mode the ride comfort is seriously compromised, but I have to say, for a big car, you really can hustle it very, very hard. Later I went to have a look round the charitable institution I laughably call a farm, and here, I’ll be honest, it felt pretty much identical to its proper brother. It had the same pushbutton system that lets you tell the car what sort of tricky terrain lies ahead, so that it can work out which differential should be locked and what range the automatic gearbox should select. Then it was back to London, where the sporting brogue became as comfortable and as quiet as your favourite armchair. Some of the fixtures are not quite as satisfying as they are on its proper brother, but the architecture is great: the high centre console put me in mind of a Porsche 928, and there’s no getting away from the fact that there are many toys to play with.

Still, because there was no radio, I did notice the fuel gauge, which, after many miles, was still resolutely stuck on full. And this is the ace up the new Sport’s sleeve. You see, underneath, this is not a Discovery. It shares much of its basic architecture with the new Range Rover, and that makes it light. And that means massively improved fuel consumption. It’s where the sportiness comes from too, and the sometimes vivid acceleration.

This, then, is a massive improvement on the old car. It is a Range Rover, it does have a sporty feel, it does work off road and it is comfortable and well equipped. But it doesn’t have a split, folding tailgate. That’s why my eye is still on its more expensive bigger brother. It seems unfair now to call it the proper model. Because the Sport is proper, too. Gary has already ordered one.

You could hose down the interior and use it for a trip with Mrs Farmer to the theatre