The Land Rover Diaries, vol. 4

Uncovering a history of adventure, and then adding to it

“A collector of memories, and inspiration for future ones.” If you’ve read or listened to my work for any length of time, you might recognize that statement. I’ve used it to describe, what I feel is the primary purpose of a dive watch. Released from the absolute necessity of timing a dive, these rugged watches can now serve as talismans, mementoes, and motivators for those of us who appreciate the less tangible elements of the functional objects in our lives. As I was loading my mountain bike in the back of my 1993 Land Rover Defender today, it occurred to me that this old truck is the vehicular equivalent. 

Land Rovers seem to have been designed not only for taking on adventures, but also for documenting them through a collection of decals. Utterly squared off at the back, with lots of flat surfaces and windows all around, they’re simply too tempting to leave naked. And I’ve never been one to shy away from festooning a vehicle with stickers that proudly tell the world what I’m into. When I removed the hard top roof from the Series 3, with it went most of my sticker collection, leaving only a couple of the back and sides of the body itself. But the big Defender is a veritable billboard. I’ve got decals from watch companies, dive gear manufacturers, a beer brand, travel destinations, and even one from a friend’s springbar tool company. But stickers can also be a palimpsest, layers of history slapped over the tops of each other. 

On the small rear windows are two decals from iconic Alpine mountain passes: the Großglöckner in Austria and the Passo Stelvio in Italy, both which feature routinely in great Grand Tour bicycle races. I have no way of knowing whether this truck made it up and over both of those mountains. I didn’t put those stickers on there—the previous owner did. If it did make the big climbs, and I suspect so since otherwise why would you put the stickers on it, I pity the vehicles stuck behind it on the narrow switchbacks as it labored up in a lower gear. But as I was driving home on a mundane stretch of urban highway, my bike rattling around in back, it made me think that this vehicle is like a vintage watch. It bears evidence of a past life, one I’ll likely never know about in detail, but one that hints at some adventures.

The history I know of this Defender came from some light sleuthing and word of mouth. For British vehicles, the license plate numbers tell a story, not only where they’re from and from which year, but also provide a key for checking on its background. That’s because vehicles in the UK are required to have an annual road worthiness check performed and documented, per the Ministry of Transportation. Judging by all the bald tires, loud mufflers, and listing cars I see careening around American roads, I think the US could benefit from this example. But I digress… Anyway, K304 SAT, the registration number of my Defender, can be searched online and the full history of its MOT tests revealed, even now. 

Despite being a 1993 model year vehicle, the Defender’s first MOT check was documented in March of 2007, a full 14 years after it rolled off the line in Solihull, England. Why the delay? What was it doing for all those years, during which it accumulated a mere 412 miles? Well, here again, some sleuthing and deductive reasoning comes into play. The configuration of this truck leads me to believe that it was a military requisition directly from Land Rover. The spare tire mounted on the bonnet (sorry, “hood” for Americans), bonnet latches, and the white painted rear differential cover (to be reflective when traveling in convoy after dark) were all specific traits of military vehicles. Under some flaked white paint on the rear door, I see a distinctive shade of dark green, perhaps its original military paint scheme. It occurs to me that these clues are not unlike those that watch collectors seek when narrowing the history of some old obscurely marked dive watch.

That low mileage makes me think this Defender served some light duty trundling to and from across a military base somewhere, maybe ferrying troops around, or towing equipment. I’ll never know. But then, after its first year in “civilian” hands, it gained almost 6,000 miles, then another 5,000, before jumping up to years with over 10,000 miles on it. The Stelvio Pass perhaps? Touring around Europe? The odd zebra striped headliner inside that I promptly tore out, and the wall to wall smelly pile carpet makes me think it was used as a camper of some sort, its long rear bed perfect for sleeping. In the engine bay, I found more decals, from Maxxis tires, and a ball bearing supplier. In the storage cubby under the driver’s seat was a receipt for performance motorcycle parts, from a supplier on the Isle of Jersey in the English Channel. Is that where this truck lived out its days after being decommissioned? I started to form a picture of its life: towing a trailer with a racing motorcycle across Europe, its owner sleeping in back along the way. It seemed to live this life until its last MOT inspection in 2019, at 77,000 miles. And then it made its journey to America.

Since buying this Defender in the fall of 2020, it’s already had its share of further adventures. It’s been camping all over Minnesota, hauled dive gear around the Great Lakes, fought gridlock traffic in Chicago twice, driven on frozen lakes, and rock crawled and waded streams on the off-road trails of Minnesota’s Iron Range. It’s a bit crazy to think of the miles this vehicle has covered, all over the planet. So often we buy a vehicle locally and it might see the odd road trip out of our home states, but otherwise tends to live a life of quiet desperation going to and from the store, school runs, maybe the occasional vacation a few hours away. But this Defender has truly seen the world. If my conjectured history is true, it started life as a military truck, then crossed the English Channel to drive tens of thousands of miles around Europe, presumably for the sheer fun of it (remember the zebra headliner?). And now, even 31 years after it was built and close to 90,000 miles later, it’s still a platform for fun.

I know a lot of you aren’t necessarily here for car content, and for whom a vehicle is purely an A to B convenience. I get that. It’s probably the same way I think about my laptop or my iPhone: zero sentimentality. They’re simply boring tools I don’t want to have to think about. I also think the idea of owning a vehicle for fun in these complicated times of climate change, rising expenses, and a changing car landscape is becoming a thing of the past. And believe me, I don’t drive a whole lot. I work from home, and my two Land Rovers, while seemingly frivolous and perhaps wasteful, serve as pure hobbies, though the Defender has pulled proper truck duty many times, hauling dirt, firewood, mulch, and furniture. But there just aren’t a lot of manmade functional objects in my life that can also provide that intangible thrill, like putting on a well worn but capable dive watch. When I see the Defender parked outside after a snowstorm, I want to jump in and go. It makes me want to load it up with dive gear, camping gear, a mountain bike, and drive somewhere fun, do something adventurous, then climb in afterwards, sweaty, muddy, perhaps soaked with rain or snow, and go back home again. It has become a collector of memories and an inspiration for future ones.

Note: I’ll be taking next week off from Swimpruf, since I’ll be away for a few days on a diving adventure, one I’ll be sure to tell you about soon! Have a good week.