Diesel is a dirty word these days thanks to the Volkswagen scandal.
That’s
a shame, because the engine technology offers the kind of performance
that’s quite appealing, namely serious muscle off the line and
significantly improved fuel economy over gasoline-powered engines.
Into
this hostile environment, Land Rover brings its first diesel for the
American market. Do not judge by the misdeeds of others; the Td6 3-liter
turbodiesel motor may be the best way to motivate a Range Rover.
Diesel’s stump-pulling power encourages off-roading, perfect when
tossing this $103,925 (as tested) luxury vehicle on the Rubicon Trail.
Let’s
address the gaseous elephant in the room: emissions. Like other
automakers, Land Rover uses a fluid called urea, which mists the exhaust
to knock down emissions, turning harmful nitrogen oxide into plain old
nitrogen. The urea tank gets filled every 10,000 miles or so. There’s
low-pressure exhaust gas recirculation, too, but then I’d be getting all
technical on you.
The
Td6 packs 254 horsepower and enough soul-satisfying torque to drag
Lucifer back to Hades, 440 pound-feet to be precise. Five minutes behind
the wheel of this rig is the best publicity diesel could have. Only
those outside the car might, and I emphasize might, know this is a
diesel. The telltale grumble is replaced with a sonic quality closer to
gasoline direct-injection. Inside, the Range Rover is whisper quiet even
as it cranks from rest to 60 miles an hour in about seven seconds. Fuel
economy is officially rated by the government at 22 miles per gallon in
the city, 29 on the highway. I averaged 28 in mixed driving, heavy on
urban slogging.
Power
is routed through an 8-speed transmission (its controller knob glides
strikingly from the console on start-up). Most will leave Land Rover’s
Terrain Response four-wheel drive system in auto mode. For severe
traversing, dial in the symbol of the terrain you plan to cross (much
like sorting socks, only there’s always a match). In everyday use, this
deftly maneuvers the concrete canyons it will see most. It’s no Miata,
but it’s well controlled for the breed.
Imagine
fording 35 inches of water while cocooned by fine leather and woodwork.
In an S-Class Mercedes, that would mean something is terribly wrong.
Everything seen and touched inside the Range Rover’s cabin has a stout,
hefty quality about it, even the floor mats. The Meridian sound system
delivers on its lofty sonic promise. I want the carpet in my house.
The
rear seats don’t slide fore and aft to max out leg or cargo room. But
if passengers complain about the space, feel free to kick them out. They
get their own climate control, seat heaters and a great view of the
sky. Cargo room is vast enough to haul furniture to the summer place.
The air suspension drops the back for easier loading.
Land
Rovers have a four-year, 50,000-mile warranty for those concerned about
reliability. To be straight-up honest, my practical Midwest upbringing
once saw the luxurious appointments of a Range Rover to be a little
much. Who pushes a vehicle that begins at $85,945 through knee-deep mud
on the way to boulder-strewn paths? I now find the amalgamation of opera
house refinement and mountain goat ability perversely appealing.
The
$1,500 premium for the diesel engine is a wise investment, less for the
fuel economy than its driving pleasure. For the wealthy, a Range Rover
can be a money saver, combining luxury car and off-roader into one
purchase. S.U.V., in this case, stands for supremely upscale vehicle.
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