Story & Photo By Calef Letorney

The plan was to drive my Ex- MOD 300 TDI 110 from Salt Lake City, Utah to Vermont in three days, by myself, fully loaded and pulling a heavy trailer, in the middle of a July heat wave. To succeed I needed to drive at least 15 hours a day. Like many early Defenders, mine lacks air conditioning, so I knew the trip was going to be physically exhausting for both me and my Rover. The goal of three days travel time would only be possible if I had no mechanical issues; the stage was set for what would become an epic journey.

I left Salt Lake City plagued by uncertainty, feeling like I was limping home to fix my mechanical issues. Limping BEFORE the 3000 mile drive, not good. I didn’t have one issue that really bothered me, more a smattering of minor problems: there was the cracked headlight that burnt out the bulb, a fast failing clutch master cylinder that still functioned about 70% of the time, the fender that had fallen off my trailer, the mud flap that had fallen off my truck, and the lingering memory of the front left wheel falling off at 70 MPH in Colorado a few weeks earlier. All these seemingly minor issues combined to heighten my sensitivity and overall paranoia of potential mechanical issues. So I got the oil changed and fluids toped off, projected some positive energy, drank some caffeine, and started driving.

On day one my spirits were high and the sailing was smooth. I easily crossed the mountains of Utah and Wyoming, and entered the flats of Nebraska. Predominantly running slightly downhill with a tail wind I had no trouble pulling 80-85 MPH through most of the “Cornhusker State.” With around a thousand miles under my belt I pulled over around eleven to sleep in the back of my truck. Day one had been as smooth as could be and I was happy to be on my way home.

Day two started less favorably. I woke to the depressing realization that I still had two full days of driving ahead of me. All of a sudden the drive was not very exciting and my music collection was not so entertaining. The latter turned out to be a non-issue when my battery health meter started reading negative. Concerned about alternator troubles I decided to turn the radio off and enjoy the sound of my Rover’s aerodynamic inefficiency. While less entertaining than the radio, I was trying to look on the bright side by reminding myself that listening to road noise really helps monitor the mechanical health of the Rover. If something were to go wrong, I should be able to hear it first, right? I proved that theory wrong about a half hour later when I felt a violent lurch and a total loss of power. If you have ever been driving along in your Land Rover and heard a clunk followed by the engine revving, you know it is not a happy sensation but not always cause for panic. Occasionally the transmission pops out of high range back into neutral, but I find this only happens shortly after shifting from low range to high range. So I was able to rule that really attractive theory out right away because I had not touched that lever in over a thousand miles. This left me coasting to the side of the highway, optimistically pondering what sort of small mishap could have caused my temporary lack of power, when the rear wheels suddenly locked up and start skidding, oh joy! Luckily the skidding only lasted a second, but the optimism was permanently gone and I knew something was really wrong.

When I was safely in the grass on the side of the highway, I crawled under the Rover to have a look-see. The immense amount of smoke from the rear differential was the only clue this home mechanic needed to diagnose the problem. I smoked the rear diff, literally. My next thought was automatic: What do I need to do to get home in front wheel drive? Because there ain’t no way am I hanging out in whatever nondescript flat State I am in right now, in a town whose primary purpose is to service the trucking industry that rolls through I-80, while I wait for Rovers North to send me the parts. The first task was obvious. I had to disconnect the drive shaft to remove power to the differential. I would be traveling home in front wheel drive anyways, so I might as well remove the connection from the problem diff to the transfer box. The nuts on the hand break drum came off quite easily. Unfortunately the diff side was a lot harder. Scolding hot, covered in oil, and baked on I wrestled with the 4 bolts that hold the drive shaft onto the diff for over a half hour. Admittedly I lost my cool, and called my baby a “Piece of shit Ford” several times. Sadly our relationship has not been the same since.

When I was done I quickly picked up my tools, engaged the diff lock and slowly drove to the next exit. At this point I realized I was not only covered in oil but also sweat and grass clippings that had stuck to the oil/sweat mixture, so I made use of the truck stop’s shower facility, which is fantastic by the way. Then I called my father, who politely reminded me I needed to pull the half axles out to prevent the possibly ceased spider gears from locking the wheels again. He predicted it would take me about an hour to pull the hub cap, lock ring, drive flange, and axle then replace the drive flange and hub cap on both sides. “OK time me.” Twenty-seven minutes later I was back on the road feeling like nothing could stop me, a feeling that lasted through the rest of day two and a few miles into day three. I hit the road early on day three as I had lost time to make up. The Rover was pulling great in front wheel drive, and I was in a great mood, because for the first time in over a month and a half I would be sleeping in my own bed. Then I heard another loud clunk, followed by several hollow clanks. In my side mirror I saw sparks flying. It is not often you loose a piece of your Rover on the road, but it is a pretty unmistakable feeling, one that I had now experienced twice on this trip. What could have possibly fallen off now?! I pulled over to the side of the road and stopped, thinking, well at least I still have power and brakes. When I attempted to engaged my hand brake I instantly knew the problem.

I pulled up on the hand brake and there was no tension. Whoops! A quick peak under confirmed my fears, I had lost the handbrake drum. The hand brake drum is primarily held on by the drive shaft, which I removed and neglected to replace the nuts tightly. The drum had stayed on for at least 500 miles the day before only to cut loose less than ten miles into he third day. Now what do I do?

At that point I looked down the busy highway. There was no sign of a hand brake drum. To hell with it, I thought. A quick peek under the Rover confirmed I wasn’t prone to loosing more parts, or more prone than usual at least. So I hopped back in the truck and drove to Vermont. The last day of driving went smoothly; in fact it turns out that my truck is more fuel-efficient in front wheel drive. On the way home I resolved my electrical issues. The extreme heat had causes my battery’s water to evaporate. After opening the battery ports and pouring distilled water in, the gauge started to read normally again. My Defender 110 had made it home against all odds. All in all it was kind of fun, but I hope not to have any more excitement of this nature for some time.

I would later discover the fill plug of the diff. was missing, that’ll do it. My dad ask the pertinent question “how did you forget to put the fill plug in?” What?! Ughhhhh, I took it to a chain before I left SLC. Looking back I should have realized that the oily mess on the trailer was not from the construction as I had theorized, but the diff. as oil splashed out of the fill plug hole. I had ignored the possibility that the oil was coming from my truck, as it was not spotting when parked, bad assumption. Either way, I learned a valuable lesson: Do not take your truck to [legally I can not disclose the companies name, due to the settlement with their insurance company, which assumed liability and payed for my replacement parts]. If you’re on a road trip and must take it to a service center, double check their work. On the bright side, now I know, and as the great G.I. Joe said, “knowing is half the battle!”