My Pop’s Landy

If I missed the coach to high school my mum would have to drive me in. I was so embarrassed to arrive in an ancient multi coloured Land Rover Defender that I would demand to be dropped half a mile from the school gates and walk around. But it wasn’t always so.

In primary school my dad was co-opted into lift sharing when my Cub Scout group went camping. I ran around the playground asking every boy in cubs ‘have you been for a drive in a Land Rover before?’ the answer was always no, to which I’d reply – ‘if you’re lucky you will and you might even sit in the bench seat in the back with no seat belt!’

When driving in the Landy my brother and I would keep and eye out for another Defender and point it out by shouting ‘Land Rover – Land Rover – Land Rover’ which everyone else would join in with. I’m sure we waved and flashed our lights too.

After a long journey back home from hiking in Wales or visiting relatives in London, when the keys were finally removed the silence seemed deafening. The ringing remained at least until we got back into the house.

My dad owned a 1965 Series Land Rover from most of my childhood. It was a mixture of cream body with a red roof, sides and back door. It made sense to me as a child because the red part came off – dad would remove it and replace with a canvas top slung over a metal frame in the summer, especially if we were on holiday in the countryside.

There was green moss on the and inside of the windowsills. If you slide the window open or shut (horizontally) to quickly it would gouge up the moss and jam. There were numerous holes in the floor through which I would watch the blur of grey tarmac. In the back was a side facing bench seat opposite a gas ring cooker and sink. Above this was a kitchen cupboard and a collapsing circular table screwed into the floor.

I remember sitting on my dads lap on the beach and steering as he worked the pedals. The steering wheel felt huge and almost impossible to turn without my dads help.

I used to wash it to earn pocket money and it was a big job – I’d climb onto the bonnet to clean the roof and windscreen, and clamber up onto the spare tire mount on the rear door to clean the top of the back. It must have taken over an hour.

When I was 19 and my dad had moved onto the luxury of Volvos and Nissans, I worked with a lady who owned an early Discovery and had a similar love for the old beast. I remember telling her it wasn’t a real Land Rover.

Whenever I speak to someone who’s had experience of a Land Rover Series / Defender I find they share the affection I have for it’s many flaws. It’s similar to people who own vans – whether to transport bikes and canoes in or to sleep in for a weekend getaway. The things the vehicle allows you to do is more important than aesthetics or creature comforts. And this is what creates memories ultimately.

My personal experience set me up perfectly in 2015 for a very special work project to celebrate the end of the Defender’s production. More on this in my next post…