Once upon a time I rather fancied a nice V8 Range Rover. It never happened.
It is a Range Rover Classic, year, 1991.
Naturally it is a V8 – 3.9. It sounds wonderful. It has a good chassis and seems rust-free. It has a beautiful walnut dash and a somewhat bizarre small sport-style steering wheel to match. In terms of colour and interior it is slightly faded, or worn, or however you want to describe it. It also has a crap new head-lining that in no way matches.
It costs 200€ a year to road tax in Spain (no road tax in Gib).
It has a few faults. Apart from anything else the ITV (Spanish equivalent of MOT) expired at the end of the month.
The water jets for the windscreen don’t work. One doesn’t even eject water, and the other sends out a pitiful trickle that doesn’t hit the windscreen.
The support for the split upper rear door doesn’t work. If you don’t hold the glass up it drops down and hits you on the head if you haven’t realised.
The small indicator lights on the side of the front wings don’t work. Fuse?
Nevertheless they are not big things in the overall scheme of Range Rovers. Adrian drove it out of the underground car park where it lives so that we could have a decent look at it in daylight – where we discovered the above faults.
We also discovered as I was trying to get in – that it is not a five door. Or rather a two door as one can hardly describe the boot bit as a door. Now while I may have passed my lithe agile peak, I am not entirely immobile and it was hell to get into. It was the sort of situation where you open the door, dive headlong onto the back seat through the narrow gap (even allowing for pushing the front seat forward) and hoping the rest of your body clambers in after the first part. Not that I wear them, but it is no good for anyone who chooses short skirts or stilettos. Nor is it any good for anyone who wishes to look remotely elegant – woman or man.
I could see very little out of the front as the seats are high. I contented myself with looking out of the rear window. They are slidey windows so I opened it a tiny bit and decided I didn’t have enough strength to manage more than a couple of centimetres. I leaned over to the other side and couldn’t open that at all. Still, if we bought it, I wouldn’t be sitting in the back. Neither would anyone else.
It sounded very nice as we drove a short distance down the road. We checked out all the usual suspect areas for rust. Think the owner was a bit surprised when we went through the routine of checking all the lights – like why would you not? Because we don’t drive very much these days, checking all the lights are working (as well as oil and water) has now become standard practice before we set off anywhere – usually to Spain, as there is little point driving around Gib.
A good drive. Condition: good rather than very good, and defo not mint – chassis and engine were plus points, and they are what matters. Desirability: two doors, crap colour, and appalling new head-lining detract from it. Oh, I keep forgetting, it had air-con and a newish Blaupunkt stereo. I keep forgetting to mention them because they don’t interest me but the owner seemed to think they were important. Mileage: 240,000 kms. Price: too much. Had a quick looky on eBay and couldn’t find anything over a grand – he wanted more. He’s not been able to sell it in at least the last six months if not more. What could we realistically expect for it if we wanted to sell? A few hundred?
So ……. whatever happened to my dream about Range Rovers? Guess I’ve been a leaf-sprung woman for too long.