Resurrection of a Defender

“HAPPINESS”, SAID a friend of mine recently, “is a steamboat and something made by Land Rover to pull it”. He said this just a week before the underside of my 1992 Defender 200Tdi was shown to me on a mortuary slab – actually I think it’s called a ramp – at my local North Hampshire Land Rover specialists, Safari Engineering of Eversley.

I own a small steam launch, just under 20ft long, which gives me, and a lot of other people, a great deal of pleasure simply by being unusual and mildly eccentric. It’s also a ‘heritage’ thing.

I use my Defender to tow, launch and recover my toy having had a brace of Series IIIS in the past. There is simply no better tool in a boatyard than a SWB Land Rover. There’s no need to be precious about minor dints and scratches. It’s gutsy and reliable and that hefty front bumper can take a towing hook: just that one very inexpensive mod transforms manoeuvring around a crowded boatyard or slip.

I’m a retired clergyman and everything I’m about to tell happened around Easter week so it’s good to be able to share a resurrection story about a Land Rover.

My 90 is an ideal tool but I had not expected to buy one only to have it condemned prior to its first MOT less than a year later. Having said that, I was not entirely surprised to take a 25-year-old vehicle for a pre-mot check-up on the ramp to be told that a bit of welding might be necessary: but it was the rampant extent of the underbody dereliction that took my breath away.

I delivered the vehicle to Safari Engineering mid-morning and at lunchtime was called to be advised that “things are not very good”. Dave went on: “I think it would be best if you came over and saw for yourself what we’re looking at. You do need to be prepared for some major expense, I’m afraid – and we’re talking thousands rather than hundreds, but I’m sure we can work something out.”

So the following day, at 4.00 pm, I put on my black tie and went to see it. Dave’s colleague, Bert, had a torch in hand, the vehicle was up on the lift and as he went through the devastating list of MOT failure points I took one or two sad snapshots but mostly listened. I had bought a pup and I knew I’d have to get some major expense through the eagle eyes of my extremely financially-astute memsahib.

In order to minimise personal disappointment, I told myself that there would obviously be no steamboating this year, as the job would clearly take weeks or months to complete. I have no other means of towing the boat apart from a Ford Focus with a microscopic three-cylinder 1.0-litre petrol engine.

The prospect was not good, but my memsahib? Ah, she was very understanding about it, for which I’m deeply grateful.

We agreed that the asset needed to be secured so the Landy would have a new galvanised chassis with all that that entails. Basically, a comprehensive rebuild. At that point Bert told me that my Defender could be returned to me inside two weeks. I was amazed and impressed – and he was as good as his word, too.

Throughout the process of stripping the vehicle I was sent pictures via Whatsapp and they were, frankly, horrifying – to the extent that near the end of the process I was able to shake Bert’s hand and thank him for probably saving my life.

This was not said lightly. The twin-axle boat trailer rig weighs a little under 1.5 tons. I have been towing steamboats for years. In that time I’ve had trailer wheels bowl merrily past me because of failed ‘sealed-for-life’ bearings; felt uneasy whilst aquaplaning – fortunately in a straight line – on a motorway in torrential rain and even had a trailer break away from its hitch down a steep slipway because of a failed weld (my own!). So, now much older and slightly wiser, I don’t take liberties, and the idea of a brake or chassis structural failure is not something to be relished.

Under three weeks later – during which time I had visited Eversley a couple of times to view the project – I had a call to say that the Defender was ready for collection with a new MOT. Obviously the bill was considerable, but what was being delivered back to me was effectively a new vehicle which had been stripped to the very bone and rebuilt with many new or, to keep costs down, replacement components. My diffs, for example, now run in replacement steel covers – to ensure that it has a long life ahead: longer than mine is likely to be, certainly.

As I drove her away there was a sense that I was driving a different vehicle: everything felt taut and secure. The engine note was the same but the steering pointed me in the direction I wanted to go. Truly extraordinary.

Everything seemed to work. I flashed someone to thank them and clearly the lights worked because they waved back! Amazing! I did a three-point turn and there were no disconcerting graunching noises from the swivel joints or front driveshaft. Astonishing!

But there was something else different… Something seemed critically wrong despite all the evidence that my Defender was in great shape. It was three or four miles before I realised what it was. She no longer rattled like a jazz drummer on speed. All was silent. Of course, I use the word ‘silent’ in a relative, Land Rover 200Tdi sense.

Safari Engineering had been superb and done exactly what they promised within the price parameters agreed and I am very grateful. But clearly I will at some point have to take my Defender back to them to have the rattles, bangs, graunches and clatters reinstalled just make it into a proper Defender 90 again. Mark Rudall Hampshire