Tyred and emotional
Dave has bought his loved one some new shoes. Well, tyres for his Discovery, actually. But he does love his Land Rovers, as he explains . . .
MY DISCOVERY 300Tdi automatic has been my everyday wheels for 13 years now. That’s the longest I’ve ever owned any vehicle and I’ve never even considered replacing it, as it does everything I could ask of a Land Rover, from speedy motorway cruising to gentle greenlaning adventures. I don’t take it on strenuous off-road outings any more, simply because I have a Ninety that is much better suited to the task. Besides,
treating it rough seems a bit disrespectful to an old lady fast approaching her quarter century. There’s also the little matter of corrosion. Off-roading will put mud in places that even the most diligent power-washing owner will find difficult to reach. And there are lots of hidden corners in early Discos that will soon go rusty if that mud is allowed to remain. Like the early Range Rover on which it is largely based, the first-generation Discovery’s Achilles’s heel is its lack of corrosion resistance.
Rust has been the only real problem I’ve faced since I bought it, with less than 60,000 miles on the clock, back in 2006. But when rust has reared its ugly head, I’ve done the decent thing and had it repaired. New aftermarket panels are cheap for Disco 1s and a few hundred quid at MOT time is a small price to pay for another year of reliable motoring. You’d pay more on a service on a Disco 3 or 4.
My Disco is almost embarrassingly reliable. I don’t very often write about it in this column because nothing seems to go wrong. It now has 170,000 miles under its belt and the only sign of anything resembling a mechanical problem of late is a sticky thermostat. Last week I bought a new Britpart ’stat from my local parts specialist – it cost less than a tenner – and I will get around to fitting it one day soon.
The Discovery 1 is old-school motoring. Pop open the bonnet and there’s no great black plastic shroud to keep you at bay. The contents of the engine compartment are there for all to behold. Mere mortals like you and me can do simple repairs and servicing ourselves, with a modest set of tools. Just like it used to be – and just how I like it.
As modern cars get more complicated, the less there is for the average owner to do. The chances are that if you love cars, you also love fettling them, but it simply isn’t possible on more recent models, unless you hook it up to a laptop loaded with the appropriate software. It’s more likely, however, you’ll take it to a garage instead – and end up with a four-figure repair bill. When modern Land Rovers go wrong, they’re pricey to fix. Just ask my LRM colleague, Steve Miller, whose Discovery 3 demands more cash than a protection racketeer.
But even on a Discovery 1, stuff does wear out. The biggest consumable items on any Land Rover are the tyres –
arguably the most important from a safety point of view. After all, they’re the only parts of your vehicle in direct contact with the terrain and their roadholding ability can quite literally be a matter of life and death.
I used to be a great fan of all-terrain tyres, which I reckoned were a sensible compromise for someone like myself, who used my Discovery for driving both on- and off-road. But after several trips in other people’s Land Rovers, shod in ordinary road tyres, it dawned on me that modern road-biased tyres were pretty competent in all but extreme off-road circumstances. For that reason, early in 2013, I decided to replace my worn Cooper all-terrains with Goodyear Wrangler HP all-weather tyres. In the six years that have passed since then, they have covered about 60,000 trouble-free miles. They are quieter on the road than all-terrains and the stopping distance is better, too, especially on wet roads.
Although there was probably a few thousand miles left in them before they reached the legal limit, I reckoned it was time to replace them with new ones – and I went for exactly the same rubber again. After all, if it ain’t broke, why fix it? As always, I stood and marvelled at the way the lads at my local tyre centre made such short work of fitting my new Wranglers.
With the Disco’s needs catered for, my attention turned to my 1984 Ninety. Like the Disco, it has a 300Tdi under the bonnet, but unlike the Disco it isn’t a factory-fitted engine. Regular readers may recall that I swapped the original naturally-aspirated 12J diesel for an ex-disco 300Tdi and R380 gearbox three years ago.
The uprated spec means that I can now drive the Ninety in modern traffic without causing a half-mile tailback, although I do tend to avoid the main roads when I can, just for the fun of it. The other Sunday I took it to Cambridge for the day, but avoided the nightmare also known as the A14 by driving local roads. It was a totally stress-free experience and probably added just 15 minutes to my journey.
But although I love it, the Ninety seldom gets washed. That’s just the way it is with Defenders: they look okay dirty. However, the white roof had gone green thanks to an impressive crop of algae, so I made a detour to my local car-wash operation, run by a bunch of happy Eastern Europeans, based at a local marina on the River Nene. While they washed and polished, I wandered round taking snapshots of the colourful narrow boats, moored in the scenic setting. Half an hour later I returned and, for the princely sum of £8, drove my gleaming Ninety back home. It looked so different, the neighbours thought I’d stolen it.
The Ninety is usually my vehicle of choice when I go pottering along the local byways in my valley, catching the sunrises on my camera. You don’t get many thieves around early in the morning in the middle of nowhere, but I still use my faithful solid-steel Safe-t pedal lock, just in case. I took Patrick’s advice about five years ago and invested in one – and it’s been worth it just for the peace of mind. Having one of my beloved Land Rovers nicked is an experience I’m determined to avoid – and I’ve even fitted a powerful LED security light outside the cottage that’s guaranteed to blind anybody who even attempts it. After all, I love my Land Rovers.
Until next month, happy Land Rovering.