If an image says a Thousand Words, then this image is every word ever published.
While I don’t own one, I would love to. I would sell a child, if I had one. Hell, I would sell on of your children. Or all of them if I couldn’t get enough for just one.
And, I’m heartbroken that I never will own one.
But I love them to death. I mean, what’s not to love?
They are rough, slow, noisy, rattley, unreliable, need constant mechanical repairs (and upgrade), and they (generally) leak oil from below and rain water from above. (There are a million jokes about They are uncivilised brutes in a world of so called refinement. Their electrical systems are rubbish and their headlights are dangerously dim, especially given the Australian Wildlife has a tendency to jump out onto the road from the scenery at night.
They are business. They are non-apologetic. And they are (generally) Mechanical. You can drown these things, crack the injectors (in the diesels) and turn the motor over to squirt the water out, and generally let them dry out, fire them up and forget about it!
And my current focus (obsession) are the Land Rovers that were purpose built for the Australian Army, colloquially known as the Perentie. Yes, after the giant lizards, like Australia’s Goanna. Particularly the FFR (Fitted For Radio) and their 24V system and extra side drawer.
But why? And it’s a valid question. Especially when I’ve got a Y61 Nissan Patrol.
Well, it all harks back to 1979 and a four wheel club that was starting in the Ipswich, Queensland, area. Mum’s Brother, Uncle Russy, heard through the mechanics grapevine that a few of the other mechanics and a car dealer in the area were starting a four wheel drive club.
So Mum and Dad had to buy a four wheel drive, and guess what they bought?
Yep, a 90 Inch Series III Land Rover. And this thing was literally rescued from a Wreckers. It had the popular conversion of a Holden 202 “Red” motor in it. It was a piece of junk, but a seven year old petermiddleton.net LOVED this thing. And he grew to love four wheel driving, which I still do today.
One of my earliest childhood memories is being passed out the passenger window as a boy because my Dad had drowned this thing at Mudlo Rocks, outside Rainbow Beach, Queensland. At 8pm one night. Then broke the gearstick off at the floor because it had no clutch. But then drove it home, all the way to the Brisbane inner-city suburb of Milton. h
That thing was a wreck, as I’ve already said, but I loved that thing. And that’s where it started.
Now I drive from my home in Brisbane, all the way to the Gippsland area of Eastern Victoria to drive a mate’s GS 4×4 and his 6×6 Ambulance. That’s a journey of 1700 kilometers (just over 1000 miles).
So, I’m desperately sad I won’t own one, but I would still love to.