The big surprise about the P38 Range Rover

IT’S not every eleven-year-old who gets the gig of redesigning Southport Pier. Why subcontract Southport’s seaside flagship out to some high-flying architect when you can get a bunch of schoolkids to do it?

Yet that’s exactly what I – and about 30 of my classmates – got asked to as a school project once. Obviously my design was the best of the bunch, but I remember having an argument with the council mandarin who came in to judge our efforts, who disagreed with my vision of the pier’s future. Having listened to our views, the council boffins went off – and then ordered the pier buildings to replaced with what I recall being memorably described at the time as an ‘airport terminal on stilts’.

I was thinking about this the other day when driving around in something else that had the difficult task of following up a decades-old institution – the second generation Range Rover. Any replacement for anything that’s universally loved is always going to get a rough ride. The 1994-2002 model is definitely the Rangie’s difficult second album.

It arrives in the dock charged with two counts of not being a proper Range Rover – one that it looks like a Metrocab and the other that it’s horrendously unreliable.

It’s tricky to defend the latter because I remember the car’s Achille’s heel – the complicated air suspension system – letting go on a friend’s 4.0 SE a couple of years ago and prompting a four-figure bill. Yet look back at its showings in the customer satisfaction surveys and you’ll find it was just as bad as Land Rover’s other offerings at the time – certainly, Discovery owners were equally frustrated. The Range Rover’s come on in leaps and bounds since the 1990s – but so have plenty of other cars.

But get past that – and the looks, which actually improved with the subtle nips and tucks over the years – and you’ll discover it feels like a Range Rover.

All the Range Rovers I’ve driven over the years – from a 1970 two-door to the 500bhp leviathan that tops today’s range – give you this wonderful feeling of being slightly invincible. You feel secure knowing that even if your alloys are six inches deep in thick mud you’ll power out of it effortlessly – and the most you’ll have to worry about is what position your electrically-operated leather seat should be in.

The second-gen Range Rover does all of that. Yes, it’s thirsty, but so is every other big off-roader, and because people dismiss the ‘bad’ Range Rover it’s a lot cheaper than its predecessor.

As second acts go it was brilliant. Although not as brilliant as my schoolboy redesign of Southport Pier was.