Story by Mike Koch Photos by Matt Martin

I’ve done something that I never thought I’d do. I recently purchased an Alpine White 1993 Range Rover Classic short wheelbase. How exciting, until you hear what I paid for it. It’s an $1,100 Range Rover Classic. “I thought those were expensive, Mike.” A 175,000-mile Range Rover Classic. “That’s no spring chicken, Mike.” A Range Rover Classic that’s spent it’s entire tour of duty in the northern reaches of Vermont. “Good from far, but far from good, Mike.” With its leather seats and walnut dash, it still presents proudly enough to take a date out to a respectable restaurant. For years, I’ve been interested in Series Rovers; vehicles that are somewhat straightforward to repair with simple hand tools, don’t have to be plugged in to a computer to be diagnosed, don’t depreciate faster than a concert Steinway falling from a skyscraper.

Speaking of which, Range Rover Classics are certainly attainable these days, but you should scrutinize over each example you look at because a so-called value may end up costing you down the road. Are Range Rover Classics a better value now than ever? In 1993, mine had an MSRP of about $44,500 when it rolled off its showroom floor (literally, it was the display model). At the time of registration, the local Department of Motor Vehicles taxed me based on its book value, roughly $3,500. (remember to watch out for the falling pianos…) How on earth did these cars depreciate so much?

Let’s take a look at what it takes to keep one of these discreet status indicators on the road and in service. According to my rudimentary calculations, after commuting in it everyday for about a month, it gets a magnificent 12.5 mpg. A Range Rover Classic will never be mistaken for a Prius. Thankful, for the planet we live on, I’ve been militant about my recycling chores lately. The Range Rover’s so-called fuel economy is a “value” in a distorted way. I like to think about it like this: it has twice the number of cylinders than my Series and multitudes more horsepower and speed. The Range Rover cruises effortlessly at 70 mph, whereas my 109” once saw a record speed of 62 mph on a steep downhill, a frightening experience altogether. The Range Rover is all-wheel-drive all the time, whereas the Series is in rear-wheel-drive during most of its travels. What are some of the more expensive parts to replace? An ABS pump retails at about $1,200. What about the ABS valve block, which retails at around $1,500? (I hope that doesn’t decide to stop functioning, especially since this Classic weighs in at 4,401 lbs.!) The viscous unit in the Borg Warner transfer case retails at about $1,600, not counting labour and other items that should probably be replaced at the same time – like the chain, gears and seals. At which point, it typically pays to replace the entire transfer box instead of fixing what’s broken. Corrosion is a constant battle in New England, especially when owning a Range Rover Classic. Perhaps 1993 is the best model year for the short wheelbase, as it has the benefits of ABS and ETC without the troublesome aging EAS. I’m trying to come up with a figure on a repair that would potentially send this car to an early grave. When will we reach the point of diminishing returns? How much do I love this Classic?

Immeasurably. So, what’s it all about? What does this Range Rover bring to my life other than high fuel consumption and the dreaded question of “what if?” It’s like no other car I’ve driven or owned-and I’ve owned quite an embarrassingly high number for a man of my age. What I like the most about driving it is the way it makes me feel while driving it. When I drive my Range Rover, I feel like entitled royalty. It has that certain “je na sais quoi” of making its driver feel superior to other motorists surrounding him or her. While speaking to some fellow Classic enthusiasts the other night, we all agreed, that until you drive one on a regular basis, you really can’t grasp the aura this car beholds. I’ve heard the following: “All Range Rovers are cars, but not all cars are Range Rovers.” Narcissistically, I admire my reflection while driving my Range Rover past those shiny glass-faced contemporary office buildings in town. “Make way for the king of ‘Vermontistan’ in his 1993 Range Rover Classic!” Enough about my overly-inflated ego while driving the Range Rover; it’s also great for loading up with friends and heading out to dinner in style. This late Range Rover Classic just might be my favorite Land Rover.

From its formidable driving height, I feel like I’m towering over all the other motorists on an imperial level. Like riding in a palanquin on the back of a pachyderm, I feel safe. All nonsequitors aside, the Classic’s timeless design looks “just right;” think of it as Goldylocks. The other night, I parked it in front of my Burlington condo and stood admiring it for almost five minutes. My neighbors must consider me mad. The Classic looks smart, and its exterior styling remained largely unchanged from its debut in 1970 till the end of its production in 1995! There’s no mistaking my Range Rover for any other SUV resembling a melted cough drop, in any parking lot.

It is chock-full-of-amenities. I routinely appreciate it’s factory fitted 120-watt a/d/s stereo with 6-disc CD changer (and weatherband), walnut dash, heated windscreen, glass sunroof, puddle lamps in the bottoms of the doors, ABS, ETC, power windows (the three that work), power locks, and leather heated power seats (more on that later). One of my favorite luxuries is the auto-dimming rearview mirror; it perfectly cuts the glare from those bothersome HID headlamps. Its uprated suspension was genuinely put to the test the other morning as I swerved to avoid a motorist even less awake than myself! The purposeful burble, at idle, emanating from its NRP performance exhaust is wondrous, making the engine sound larger than its 3.9 liters. I love this Rover!

By now, you’re certainly asking yourself “what’s wrong with it?” Or, “He got suckered.” No, I’m afraid not. So what if three of the four doors and power windows are operational? While the rear crossmember is a bit flaky, the car was repainted about two years ago and it’s had Genuine waterproof seat covers since its first owner took delivery. Seeing as I’m probably going to be the last owner of this machine, now is the perfect time to enjoy the leather fit for royalty. As soon as I drove it home for the first time, off came the covers and I promptly cleaned and conditioned the well-preserved hides. While the transfer case prefers not to go into LO range, this Classic’s been painstakingly maintained (e.g.: Amsoil synthetics all around since day one) since new and has had a lot of recent work: heater core (quite a job, as half the dash must be removed), new brakes lines and calipers all around, new Genuine HD springs and Bilsteins, full NRP stainless steel performance exhaust system, K&N air filter, Hella Vision Plus headlamps, tune ups, fuel pump, liftgate, etc. All the stuff that makes owners sell these cars, usually at a substantial loss. Heated power seats? Sure, it’s got them, but they don’t work as the factory intended.

Speaking of dodgy electrics, while I was in New York for the Thanksgiving holiday, I lent the keys to a friend visiting the area from out of town. I asked him how things went with my Range Rover, expecting to be amused by a memorable story or two. It went something like this: “Well, funny you should ask because the other night I was driving a bit faster than the posted limit on some unfamiliar country road and suddenly, while cresting a hill, the brights decided to extinguish themselves. Once I “turned off” the brights using the stalk on the steering column, the headlamps worked again. So, I guess you don’t have brights anymore, but the rest of the car works perfectly and I even left some petrol in it for you. Thanks for letting me drive it, and I know what you mean about that royal seating position and that luxurious, unhurried feeling while you’re behind the wheel.” Note: The brights are back in service, after replacing a 15 amp fuse.

On a slightly darker note, the other day, my Range Rover stranded me mid-commute. It genuinely got stuck and I don’t mean off-road. Was this the end for my freshly acquired Range Rover? Our courtship was surely too young for that! To make a long story short the parking brake got stuck ON, immobilizing me as I tried to pull out of a parking spot. A bit possessed on the part of my Range Rover, considering the parking brake wasn’t applied when I parked it! The shoes got jammed up against the inside of the drum and fell on the floor upon removal of the drum. I’ll spare you the details of this repair, but you can imagine I employed a rather cost-effective approach.

Ever since I took delivery, the rear differential leaked. It leaked horrendously, reminiscent of a colander, thanks to all those quaint Vermont winters. Objectively, I filled it every other day. I kept using Amsoil synthetic gear oil, knowing that if it were to empty, at least its bearing and gears would be coated in lush synthetic lubrication. I took it to a local Land Rover specialist who drained the differential, cleaned it, coated it in thick marine-grade epoxy, and covered the epoxy in black paint, after allowing it to harden at room temperature for a few days; the perfect fix for my $1,100 Range Rover.

Why not properly weld the axle case shut from the inside, and outside, whilst removing the rear differential? The labour bill for that job alone might cost more than what I paid for the entire Range Rover! That’s what makes these cars a great value. So long as you have an affordable source for quality parts, and you’re resourceful with your hands, these vehicles are a considerable value! Aside from its thirsty fuel habit and depreciation, this Rover is loaded to the gills with comfort and refinement, not to mention character that you just cannot put a price on. Is this Range Rover restorable? Surely, but it’s also replaceable! If something goes horribly wrong or it rots out beyond recognition, I’ll part it out and gladly buy a replacement. These cars aren’t nearly as restorable as a Series or Defender, seeing as they have more complex systems and some of the interior and exterior bits are no longer in production. In the meantime, mine will have a nice retirement, driving me to and from Rovers North. As for yourselves, go out and buy a Range Rover Classic. Once you take it home, acquaint yourself with all of its systems and stay on top of the maintenance. This isn’t a vehicle that only requires its owner to perform oil changes and a full tank of fuel. If you are balking at the fuel consumption bill, this probably isn’t the right car for you. Find a well-sorted example, or you’ll only condemn my recommendation.

As for me, owning this Range Rover Classic is quite an upgrade in luxury from my 109” military. I can’t say that for a daily driver I’ll be back in my Series anytime soon. Let the Sisyphean task of Land Rover ownership and maintenance continue…

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