I am a mid-forties, Canadian Land Rover fan. For over twenty years I have found my way around five countries in a 1974 Series III 88”. After marriage and fatherhood, I purchased an additional Land Rover - a 1984 110 station wagon. For over 10 years our 110 has taken us, wide-eyed with wonder, to tap dance classes, weekends in the woods and across four borders. The Series III we affectionately call Eore, and the 110 we call Brighty.
These years and miles represent a significant amount of time with one brand and one owner’s developing vision of their utility vehicle. The Defender faithful call this soul, but in the modern parlance of Land Rover it is referred to as DNA. 2020 is the year that Land Rover released a new Defender re-engineered to meet the challenges of the future. For the Defender faithful the question is - did they get it right?
The new Defender will do everything my old Land Rover’s will with exponentially more comfort, convenience, safety and capability. If the DNA or soul distilled is a list of payload, suspension travel, differential clearance, wading depth and tow rating metrics - Land Rover got it right.
Furthermore, I believe Land Rover correctly recognized that the market for light duty, high-mobility utility vehicles is disappearing. The days of brochures depicting Series and Defenders turning fields with ploughs, running belt-driven saw mills or carrying bucket lifts using PTO hydraulics is gone. Even the forces that Land Rover carried from belt-fed machine gun to bed-mounted, laser guided missiles are purchasing highly specialized, higher payload capable vehicles. Land Rover’s solution to this challenge to Defender has been to slide the scale of compromise from versatility and utility towards cup holders, touch screens, air-conditioned seats and charging ports. From the perspective of the marketplace, I think Land Rover got it right by appealing to buyer demand for creature comforts while still providing for hose-out usability.
So, given all this right - why is the new Defender so wrong? I think it is a matter of automotive soul versus DNA. Soul is characteristics imbued with an intangible. DNA is characteristics coupled with some design cues. To put it in less esoteric terms - loyal Defender fans wanted a new Millennium Falcon, but Land Rover built the starship Enterprise.
The Falcon, like the original Defender, was beautifully functional. For the pilot who knew how to fix the hyperdrive motivator and had mastered the illogical placement of toggle switches, levers, blinking lights, and the drive characteristics - great things could be coaxed from it. The Falcon was built to be modified, field repaired, welded and jury-rigged - and repairs develop skills, inspire and create a bond. How many Defender owners have approached a bolder field, said “watch this” and moved the diff-lock lever with no resulting jump to light-speed or illuminated “Diff-Lock” dash light (cue the asteroid field scene in the Empire Strikes Back). The fix is usually simple. To the average traveler, the Falcon and the original Defender is an unreliable hunk of junk. To the kid in the corner of a San Felipe, Baja bar, rehydrating by emptying Pacifico’s with greasy hands, it inspired a name, love and loyalty.
In contrast - the Enterprise and new Defender is the pride of the fleet because it is innovative and cutting edge. The captain explores with a committee of advisors, engineers and navigators. When one “engages” rock mode, computer wizardry modulates, locks, lifts and brakes while adjusting cabin temperature to respond to the rise in elevation. If the Enterprise and new Defender go wrong, they require a repair dock and the budget of an organization to fix. While exploring it will update software by communication through space, drive itself and aid in every function with a few taps on a touch screen. Get it wrong, and your behaviour will be corrected with a warning from a legal department, or the prime directive. While you wait and sip beer in an Arizona arroyo, your new Defender is tethered to the factory and conducting repair updates dictating safe operating parameters decided on by a committee of people you have never met.
My hope is that Land Rover will learn the lesson learned by sports car manufacturers like Porsche. There are still drivers who derive pleasure from coexisting in moments with a mechanical thing. Whether it be a perfectly timed throttle blip to heel and toe into a corner, or getting articulation limits just right on a bolder strewn track. Part of the intangible is in the character and imperfections of a vehicle - and not all drivers want every effort made to correct them by computer engineer.
Like Porsche, perhaps Land Rover will give us a Defender special edition that dumps the big thumb on the dash, touch screen and spinning wheel on the console and replace them with a couple of vague and chattering levers. A special edition that eschews anything electrical that can’t be run with 12 volts through a bullet connector. No cameras either - a lot of us spend too much time staring at screens. Computers on the engine and transmission I’ll begrudgingly learn to deal with, but I’ll take coil springs, toggle switches and levers for everything else. A Land Rover Defender to gaze out at from a smugglers bar while solo and northbound. Join me - don’t be swayed by the dark side of the force - and email all your Special Edition requests to Land Rover.