2016 Land Rover Range Rover Diesel: Real World Review

What is it? 2016 Land Rover Range Rover HSE Td6: four-wheel-drive, five-seat SUV for life’s chosen few.

Price as tested: $106,325

Competitors: Bentley Bentayga (if you’re richer than God), Cadillac Escalade, Mercedes-Benz G-Class

Alternatives: If you’ve got $106,325 to splurge on a car, probably whatever you want.

Pros: The most capable SUV…in the world.

Cons: Land Rover’s technology packages lack the innovation seen with rival luxury automakers, and while the latest generation infotainment system is better than before, it’s still below par.

Would I buy it with my own money? Give me $100,000 to buy an SUV, and then yes, I would buy it—without regret. Or maybe I’d gamble it away in Vegas and return to living in poverty.

Here’s a Real World Review of a vehicle 99.9 percent of the world will never own; the average buyer of a Range Rover boasts a yearly income of around $500,000. If you are fortunate enough to have inherited a ton of cash, chances are you probably don’t care what this review says—you’ll just buy it anyway and then buy another if it breaks. As for the wealthy entrepreneur, sunning it in Palo Alto, you’ll say you bought it because the slope leading up to your mansion occasionally has a few leaves on it, and leaves are like banana skins in Mario Kart.

So this review is for everyone else. You, the people. Real World Americans. NARPs.

I’m writing this from the SUV’s backseat, because it’s nicer than my house in here and dammit I’ve been given a Range Rover for a week. I’m watching Lego Movie on the headrest-mounted DVD players; my kid had been watching it on the way home from Monster Jam, and I’m too lazy to turn it off—plus, everything is awesome. Incidentally, for a 5-foot 8-inch short-arse like myself, climbing aboard the Ranger Rover is a bit like how I envisage regular people clambering into Grave Digger; it’s a challenge.

For a big SUV, there’s not a great deal of space in here (the vastly more expensive long wheelbase version is better for rear-seat living). Sure, the panoramic roof acts as a gateway to millions of miles of sunshine, and that helps the cabin feel airy. But you do expect more rear legroom. The good thing is the trunk is positively cavernous, boasting enough room for at least six butlers. And the front seats feature all the space you need (albeit they don’t adjust 19,385 ways like some luxury cars do). Leather wraps every surface—in my case, a beautiful mesh of white and black, otherwise known as the Michael Jackson special.

Let’s talk a little about the elephant in the room—the diesel motor. Thanks to VW, diesels aren’t exactly a subject of love here in the U.S. In fairness, they never were (because few automakers include them in their American lineup). However, the Internet tells us we’d love them if we had the chance. I have a theory that those of us that grew up in Europe (like me)—where diesels are two a penny—realize that typically they aren’t the torque-munching monsters U.S. enthusiast publications would have you believe. Instead, they’re mostly smoky and sound like an army of tractors. If you live with them day in day out, the romance wears off.

The turbocharged 3.0-liter V-6 diesel in the Range Rover Td6, and its 254 horsepower and 443 lb.-ft. of torque, is not smoky. But it does sound like a John Deere. The impressive torque figure provides good punch out of the turns. Plus, 22 mpg city and 29 mpg highway ain’t half bad for a three and a half ton SUV (a chunk better than the standard V-6). But, again, if you’re one of the lucky few that can afford this machine, you don’t give a crap about fuel economy. If you did, you’d have traded Palo Alto for Fort Wayne a long time ago.

The diesel here, while perfectly fine, doesn’t offer any improvement to the driving experience. Plus, there’s a lag in initial acceleration, something I’ve never felt in a Range Rover before. This led me to drive unanimously with the transmission in “sport” mode—which didn’t help much; it felt like a delay between depressing the pedal and the engine responding (and I’m not talking about turbo lag). Truth be told, you do naturally adapt your driving to its behavior. I’m fortunate to have driven a number of new generation, all-aluminum Ranges—is this a diesel specific thing or simply a fault with my test vehicle? Who knows? I wouldn’t worry too much, Mr. Mega Millions. It’s not a deal breaker.

It’s true, the Range Rover seldom gets used for heavy off-roading, but it’s nice to know that it can. And it really is the benchmark. On smooth tarmac, the baby Range Rover Sport does feel more taught and precise, but the big Range doesn’t react as wallowy and lethargic as an Escalade. It won’t draw attention to itself like the Caddy, either, or indeed the Bentley—which I think is a big plus. It mostly goes unnoticed; indeed, it’s the only $100,000+ vehicle I’ve had on my driveway that hasn’t resulted in a crowd of neighbors checking it out. (Perhaps they feel awkward disturbing me while I’m here working in the back?)

That’s why the rich choose this SUV: It’s classy, understated, drives serenely and can handle as many leaves as Mother Nature can throw at it. Those with “new money,” in all honesty, will probably pick a chromed-out Escalade with 85-inch rims.

It’s hard to pinpoint precisely why I love this car so much, but I really do. Sat here, the infotainment system up front is lackluster, and the technology packages do little to move the needle (although things are improving, with options like “soft door close” and “Wi-Fi pre wire”). In truth, the technology side is where Land Rover is falling behind. The company is working on some clever ideas, but they must be implemented quickly to prevent the brand from losing its street cred—a car like this should be forging the path, not hanging on by its coattails. Providing that happens, its upper class charm and its on- and off-road capability will ensure it retains its place as king of the slippery hill.

I’ve only got this Range Rover for one more night. To that point, I’m considering sleeping in it, just because. Tomorrow, it’s being replaced with a Honda Fit. I shall return to reality, and, in all likelihood, back into my own house. I’m OK with that. I’m not sure I really need a $100,000 SUV to feel awesome anyway.