RN News editor Jeff Aronson and QE

Land Rover ownership is not for the bashful. Don’t become a Land Rover enthusiast if you crave anonymity. To quote Martha and the Vandellas, “nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.” A vehicle as distinctive as a Land Rover – any model will do – does not blend into the landscape; it stands up and testifies to your character.

In my case, the QE I, my ’66 Series II-A 88” SW, has drawn the attention of the family that owns and operates our local boatyard. For decades husband, wife and adult children have taken much glee in the condition of my Land Rover. Should one pass me in their truck while I am walking somewhere they will ask the same question. “Need a ride? Did it break down?” If I try and explain a simple repair to them, they will break down in gales of laughter to note they haven’t carried a tool in the family Ford Expedition since its purchase. Their attitude may have something to do with their ownership of two Ford Model A’s that have run trouble-free. One year on his birthday I gave the father a framed photo of the Land Rover with a printed voucher good for one ride. The voucher remains open. So when I saw the a family member biking down a road with his children, I could not help but slow down as I passed him and yell out, “See – it is too faster than a bicycle!” His parting shot of “in your dreams” was just so lame.

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You can live vicariously through your Land Rover. You may be driving to a golf course in your LR3 but in your mind those sand traps become exciting places to try out the “sand” setting on the Terrain Response system. Certainly any time I venture down a dirt lane for daily work in my II-A, I am not in charted Maine but in uncharted landscapes.

In April I conversed with correspondent Randy Dickson of White River Junction, VT. When I asked him “what’s your job?” he responded with a short answer. “I’m an industrial arts teacher,” he said. Then he asked me the same question. Oh, boy, this is going to take a while.

Like many people in Maine and throughout northern New England, I have multiple jobs, depending on the seasons. Painting houses, care taking summer properties, wood cutting and clearing are best accomplished in drier, warmer weather. In northern New England, that means late spring, summer or early fall. Fortunately for me, I have other jobs – editing this magazine, assisting at our local school, building web sites, public humanities programs and bartending. Reading, talking, surfing the web and drinking occur year round.

This island is the size of an English town, about 4 miles wide and 9 miles long. You’re not going to put on a lot of miles working here. Good thing, too, for gas has risen to nearly $4.00 per gallon. The island school lies 1 mile from the village. After working there one morning I walked to the parking lot with Amanda, our school secretary.

“Amanda,” I said, “how would you like a ride to the village in my Land Rover, the ‘Chick Magnet’?” She laughed and said, “Jeff, I’ve only got 30 minutes for lunch!” Summer people have commented to me that my two ’66 Series II-A’s are perfect vehicles for the island. Unknowingly they treat the Land Rovers as if they were delicate antiques, unable to withstand the rigors of daily use. Wrong! The Station Wagon and the Hardtop are perfect vehicles for daily use. You also have room for a lawn mower, fuel cans, a weed whacker, or gallons of paint, brushes, tarpaulins, scrapers, sanders, rolls of roofing and a 24’ ladder. Even an 88” wheelbase will permit carrying of a lot of construction debris and landscaping detritus to the local dump. Leave some of the gear behind and you can transport a crew of 4 in jump seat comfort.

The weather has been screwy in Maine this year. Winter came late, in February, with hard cold and little snow. March and April brought heavy snowfalls and two nor’easters that battered the entire state. On May 1; it is snowed in Caribou, Maine. The weather extended the heating season and emptied out the wood pile. Heavy snowmelt and hard spring rains made the fields and woods quite wet and boggy. Major storms hit in June and July; August has witnessed fog and damp weather usually associated with June weather. Cool weather overall meant that fetching wood for the stove has been a steady need. Fold up the rear seats in the station wagon, remove the ammo box [my version of the fabled “Continental Touring Kit”] and the crate full of “Car in A Can” fluids, and you have a lot of room in which to stuff firewood.

One evening a new summer family came into the bar for food and drink. They’re Connecticut residents building a summer home on newly-cleared waterfront. My ears perked up – what are you doing with the logged trees? In fact, they had some local brothers clear the land and cut the trees into log length already. If they didn’t want the wood, I was free to drive down and take it. A phone call the next day cleared the way for me to add to my depleted woodpile. When I arrived at the lane to their lot, I got out of the Rover to walk the land. It sloped down steadily towards the rocky shore. The ground was quite soft with runoff, but I noticed some ledge and rocks in the ground that should provide solid footing. I got back in the Rover and drove down in first gear low range to the wood stacked near the shore. I loaded up the Rover with wood stacked nearly to the roof. Then I headed back up the hill.

English magazines will tell often about the challenges of off off-roading in slippery grassy fields. They’re right. My route required that I turn left and then head up a steep rise with no room to gain momentum. The Rover’s wheel started to spin in first low range. Shifting into second lessened the wheelspin but I couldn’t get enough speed to make it up the hill. I considered shifting into high range 4-wheel drive but I knew that first gear would be too low for the entire run up the hill; shifting a non-synchro II-A on the fly just looses momentum.

After a few tries I could see ruts forming in the field, so I got out of the car to plan a different route. I had no desire to empty the Rover of wood – it had taken too much energy to stuff it in. Taking a longer way round would give me more room for momentum, but take me across potentially softer ground. Just in case, I knew I had my Hi-Lift for assistance, so I gave the new route a try. Fortunately, it worked!

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If you have friends who are also Land Rover enthusiasts, you can live vicariously through their cars, too. One of my Series II-A’s is shared with another island resident. This ’66 II-A 88” HT, which we’ve named the QM I, was a former Vermont estate farm truck. We love it to death but it presents my partners, Hugh and Sue, with two problems. It’s too small for Hugh’s 6’ 4” frame and too heavy for Sue’s petite frame, so it hasn’t gotten much use during their half of the year. The II-A has also seemed just a bit primitive for regular use to them, particularly in the traffic on the mainland. So it was no surprise to me when Hugh started to ask a lot of questions about Defenders and Discoverys. While the latter appealed to Hugh on the basis of price he determined he didn’t need the complexity and passenger comfort of a Discovery. He needed the utility, the strength and the excitement of a Defender. Proving that she’s destined for sainthood, Sue agreed and the search began in earnest. Happily, they made me part of the shopping expedition. I scoured the Rovers North customer sales list and the website for leads. We wanted a local vehicle so that Hugh could determine whether he’d be comfortable in the car; we had omitted this step with our shared II-A and Hugh didn’t discover how cramped the II-A was until after its purchase. I lucked out when I stopped at East Coast Rover on a trip to the mainland. There stood a ’95 Defender 5-speed soft top with low mileage, a Warn winch, scruffy appearance but well-maintained and equipped mechanically. Mike Smith’s company had outfitted and maintained the vehicle for most of its life and the car sounded great, even with a rotted out exhaust system.

Hugh and Sue drove the car a few days later, made an offer, and then began the fun process of outfitting the car to their preferences. Should they keep the air lockers, return the car to a stock rear end ratio and original sills, add driving lights, accept the drafts of the original Tickford top or upgrade to higher quality tops? Sharing their shopping list, most of it unaffordable to me, proved highly entertaining. By the time of publication, I should have received my first ride in their Defender. Congratulations and thanks for the fun!

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My love of British cars came through my mother’s affection for the country in which she spent her early decades; as a youngster, I made three trips to England to visit the family. In a toy store in Manchester, I became a huge fan of Matchbox cars. There I discovered that British manufacturers constructed sports cars and Land Rovers, not just the Hillman Huskys and other Rootes products purchased by my mum’s family. The Land Rover models captivated me. My father, a diehard Buick owner , scoffed at the idea of purchasing a Land Rover, pr e f e r r ing his station wagons with fins rather than jump seats. The Land Rover model disappeared over time but it never left my mind. To this day, I still envy enthusiasts with Matchbox Car collections.

So it was with sadness that I read of the death Jack Odell last July. Odell was the engineer who created the Matchbox model car. By the time of his death, over 3 billion copies of some 12,000 different vehicles had been made. He started in 1953 with a tiny steamroller, manufactured in London in a building that once housed a pub called The Rifleman. The next vehicle selected was a Land Rover. A year later an MG TD began the long series of car models. At 49 cents, Matchbox cars became huge sellers worldwide. Some of the cars had over 100 die-cast parts, despite their diminutive size mandated by school regulations that barring toys later than a matchbox in size.

Engineering made the Matchbox car more than just a toy just as engineering makes a Land Rover far more than just an SUV. Thanks, Mr. Odell, for making the world a better place for boys and girls of all ages.

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