The end of the Land Rover Defender

Many moons ago, I learnt to drive on a little short wheelie Land Rover at a British Army driving school and then spent the next 18 odd years living out of the back of a long wheeley with my home and every comfort in the trailer towed behind it. So, good were these vehicles that we never questioned that they would get us there and back no matter what. These wonderful vehicles became as much a part of my life as my head. In the most inhospitable of places, at night in the pouring rain following a forest track without lights, we got so good that we could crawl along on the hand throttle making hardly any noise. Through soft sand of the desert over knife edge sand dunes or through secondary jungle in the Amazon my little friend would always chug us through. We were the Gypsy's of the RAF with our home under us, we traveled from one job to anther. By ferry or air our Land Rover went with us. I could strap a Land Rover into A Hercules transport aircraft in 15 minutes and land on a strange airfield at night and be off the plane in far less all in total darkness. My Land Rover was an extension of me.

It saved my life on many occasions. You have no idea how cold it can get in Norway, north of Bergen. But in our Land Rover trundling through snow so thick one could hardly see the road we would crawl along. Indeed we had to stop in a white out one time and the next morning dig ourselves out. But we got there and more importantly back. So, used to the noise of those town and country tyres did we become that my wife could hear them on a quiet night and thus knew I was coming home and be at the door when I pulled up. The noise of those tyres are part of the sound track of my life. As is the smell of Kerosene jet fuel and heaters.

And then after the RAF I spent the next decade with the UN around the globe in a white Landy. My favorite was Daisy-Do. A white Land Rover County I had in Bosnia. Daisy got me into and out of trouble on more than one occasion. This time without a gun on my hip and just a crate of Whisky I traveled around the former Yugoslavia on this or that journey with always the best vehicle England ever made under me. A Land Rover never let me down ever. It was the only car I ever needed. Simple and robust. I once fixed one with just an adjustable spanner while the lads made bacon and egg sandwiches in a farm barn in Germany and another time replaced the cylinder head gasket in 30 minutes. Simple and built like the forth bridge.

The Landrover 88 90 110 series 2 and 3 were the best of the breed and the diesel defenders came a honorable second in my top ten vehicles of all times.

In Serbia I was stuck up a mountain with a Serbian Interpreter called Dragana. She was a very brave girl - as were all he Interpreters -and a typical plucky can do girl. I received information that my partner back in UK had, had a very unfortunate injury and I should go home. Much more easily said than done. Dragana said she would come as she needed to go home to Belgrade. I knew she didnt need to go, but was most thankful she came. It took five days to get out of those mountains and we would never have made it in any other vehicle. How many times we dug those wheels out Ill never know and how many times Dragana made coffee on a small multi fuel stove I dont know, it was amazing to watch. From "you want coffee steeve" to getting it in you hand seemed like seconds!  We stayed with folk along the road or slept hugged up in the back of the Rover when we couldnt keep awake any longer. I grew to like that girl a lot as we bashed our way out of those lovely awful moutains. At night we could hear the wolves howling and would howl back sometimes. It was quiet a trip. When Finally we got to Belgrade airport I gave the keys to Dragana, gave her and the Daisy do a kiss and said "see you when I get back" and I did. They were there when i came out the airport.

Dragana if you ever read this, Thanks. XXX And the same to you guys who built the best car I ever had. Really Thank you.