Swedish meatball

Words: Graham Scott

Pics: Legacy Overland

People often say an old Land Rover is like a much-loved family pet. Just as Fido is more than just an animal, a Landy is more than just a truck, or perish the thought a car. This does mean it’s easy to get all starry-eyed and anthropomorphic about stuff. Does your dog really know what you’re thinking? Of course not. Is your Land Rover actually looking after you when you drive it home through the rain? If so, it’s only in a strictly mechanical sense.

This is probably just as well. I mean, imagine being able to actually hear what your cat thinks of you. But we do it, even though it’s ridiculous, and that’s why objects like this Range Rover come to be seen as living things by the people who own them.

Back in 1975, it rolled off the Solihull production line in the leafy West Midlands of England. Then at some point it went to live in Sweden – presumably that was its first destination since it’s always been a left-hooker.

Then it crossed the Atlantic to live in the USA. Why did it do that? Was it on the run after not being liberal enough for Sweden? Did it refuse to play Abba on its radio?

Who knows. Of course the Americans view it differently. According to them this old Classic was ‘rescued from the northern expanses of Sweden’. Obviously nobody would want to live there; the world would much rather live in the USA, whether people, objects, pets or garden ornaments.

Right: The Range Rover had a V8 when it was new, and it has a V8 now. So, nothing to see here. Except of course the old 3.5-litre Rover engine was mainly just a thing that made it move, a bit. You can tune them, for sure, but an altogether more American solution was to replace it with a crate engine – and what better candidate for the job than 6.2 litres’ worth of LS3 goodness?

Far right: The Range Rover had disc brakes when it was new, and it has disc brakes now. Do you see a pattern forming? Same goes for its springs and shocks, too – the suspension set-up is the same but the former are comfort ride jobs and the latter are from Monroe, so its owner won’t still be rebounding his or her merry way up the road half a mile after making a gentle lane change while desperately trying to get the thing to stop

‘The Americans’ in this case are the hard-working folk at Legacy Overland who, in their own words, make ‘new vintage motors’. They’re based in Connecticut, and so not that far from New York, which is actually the sort of loca- tion you’d be likely to see this gleaming 4x4, amid all the street camps of people living rough, as it burbles through the misery, more than capable of dealing with any homeless debris or obstruction. So much nicer than the

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frozen lakes and snowy mountains of northern Sweden.

But here it is, not far off half a century old, looking way, way better than when it rolled off that production line, even though now it is called The Exeter. After the Duke in various Shakespeare plays who was once played by Brian Blessed, no doubt, the man who went on to find fame as the voice of Peppa Pig’s grandfather, or possibly the city in Devon that became known as England’s worst clone town.

Or not. They could have called it The Swindon or The Hull or something. Anyway, foreign travel has obviously suited this old Classic. And naturally, it has picked up some foreign parts after travelling in foreign parts.

Actually, before we get into it, it’s simply impossible to not stop and stare at that paint job. Even as you get near, your eye is drawn to that lustrous glossy black. The original body sprayers at Solihull would have choked on their Woodbines if they’d seen something like this.

Beluga Black is a Land Rover colour, but we’ve never seen it applied in quite such a glossy way. Obviously various things are Beluga Black, including caviar, a whale and, umm, some lentils, but photographing this three-door must have been tough for the man with the lens as everything is mirrored back to you from the paintwork. Sorry if you think we’re going overboard about it but it really is extraordinary.

Of course, one reason it seems so amazing is that it is so evenly reflected. And that requires flat panels, not the usual ones that aspire to flatness. Which is just one reminder that this wasn’t a quick respray and a bit of titivation. This was a total rebuild involving every nut and bolt, everything taken back to the frame, which was then treated and restored after all those dismal years in the glittering wilderness of northern Sweden.

Whoever the original owner was, it probably wasn’t Bjorn Borg or Bjorn Ulvaeus (air guitar and real guitar respectively), although of course there was a Land Rover in Mamma Mia!

Right: You can see the saffron velour seats here, though you’re only getting a glimpse of the brown carpet because The Landy is a family newspaper and we can’t be publishing full-on shag pics, can we?

Below: If you want to see something really X-rated, just check out the state of the vehicle before Legacy Overland got their hands on it. If you’re still wondering why the resto took three years, look harder

Anyway, whoever it was, they didn’t sit in the kind of luxury that you find inside the Legacy Overland version.

Slide in behind the wheel and perhaps there are echoes of the 1970s. The words ‘velour’ and ‘shag’ have their place here although it’s better if you imagine the Carry On team saying them. Titter ye not. So what we have is a cabin in handcrafted saffron-coloured velour, and the floor is covered in a dark brown shag carpet with beige floor mats. All that’s missing is the avocado-coloured bidet and we’d be away.

But it is, as a later comedian would attest, ‘all in the best possible taste’.

It really is, too, with Palomino leather trim also lavishly applied to doors, seats and even the cubby box. The detailing is exquisite, like that Lokar vintage-style gearlever finished in Midnight Black, matched by the transfer case shift lever. You might notice how the main dials have been meticulously rebuilt – but in addition to these there are new, smaller gauges for everything from oil pressure to clock.

Naturally, unlike in a Rolls-Royce, you won’t be hearing the clock tick for several reasons, including the new Alpine UTE sound system. The head unit fits in where the original radio would go and is partnered with a massive amplifier and speakers in the doors and rear roof. Never will Dancing Queen have sounded so good.

But there’s another reason you won’t be hearing the clock tick, and that’s because of one of those aforementioned foreign parts. It’s what happens when things go Stateside. They just get bigger. The original V8 is gone.

Too small, too weedy, too European. Instead there is another V8 fro General Motor only this one, straight out of its crate, displaces 6.2 litres.

Legacy Overland don’t go into performance figures so much, but the LS3 engine should be good for about 430bhp. That is just a smidge above the original V8 which might have made 124bhp on a good day, and not all days were good. Not forgetting the new figure of 425lbf.ft of torque.

While that’s all jolly marvellous and exciting, the more thoughtful among you must be wondering what that torrent of power would do to the rest of the vehicle, apart from creating a grinning driver.

There’s a six-speed automatic fitted but that still feeds through the LT230 transfer case, which has been rebuilt. We bet it has. The entire drivetrain has been meticulously rebuilt to cope with it all and there’s an aluminium radiator, power steering with its own cooling system and a custom exhaust. To paraphrase a disgusting breakfast cereal, it rumbles, crackles and pops.

Stopping such a beast would necessarily require an upgrade, and sure enough there are high-performance disc brakes all round with braided hoses to keep things tight. The handling appears to be aimed more at the US than the UK market with ‘comfort ride’ springs and Monroe shock absorbers. With such a set-up you’d probably hardly notice those tented encampments under the BFGoodrich All Terrains, which run on restored Rostyle steels sporting custom wheel caps. Legacy Overland really do the details. Which is one reason why this restoration took them three years. It must be said that when they got it, in a sort of tired Camel Trophy drab yellow, it looked like it had been hit by a moose while being driven by a bear. Now it looks as good and to a higher standard than many modern supercars.

Only it’s not a supercar, it’s an absolute classic, one of those shapes pretty much anyone would recognise and smile at. It manages to look period but on-point, extravagant but almost modest. That’s what real money can buy.

Any BlackRock senior exec could buy the US-only Range Rover Carmel Edition at north of $300,000, but it takes a certain amount of taste and discernment to spend the better part of that on a vehicle that’s as good as 50 years old. We reckon this elder English vehicle would smile quietly to itself at its restoration to high status. See, it reallly is easy to be anthropomorphic.