Opinion: It was inevitable – bring on the ugly Discovery 5
© Artographer34/Adobe Stock My best mate, Julian, had his Land Rover Discovery stolen recently, leaving the local police force baffled.
They weren’t mystified by who took it so much as why on earth anyone would have wanted it.
Julian shows no respect at all for a work vehicle. Most right-minded people would have refused to even drive it.
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The steering was so sloppy that it was uncontrollable by anyone who hadn’t been conditioned to its decline on a daily basis. It was a creaking, wobbly, geriatric vehicle with nearly 200,000 miles on the clock.
He stopped having it valeted two years ago because he knew it was only held together by Grade 1 silt. A pressure washer would have broken it into its 1,000 component parts.
I’m genuinely surprised the thieves haven’t brought it back yet with a note of sympathy and a box of Ferrero Rocher on the passenger seat.
So if you are reading this and thinking, uneasily, about the 2015 blue Land Rover you have just bought for cash, then I wish you many happy minutes of trouble-free motoring.
And don’t hold your breath for the V5C document.
Anyway, the theft gives rise to another, even more complex problem. Julian and I use one another as a benchmark for taste and appropriateness in our lives, careers and choice of motor vehicles.
We had made a solemn vow to stay loyal to the Discovery 4 until the bitter end.
We judged the Discovery 5 as too gaudy, bulky and urban for a proper farmer.
Who wants to look like a stockbroker’s wife driving to a gymkhana? Not us!
You know what’s coming next, of course. Julian has already taken delivery of a Discovery 5 and (purely out of selfless solidarity rather than peer pressure, you understand) I have paid the deposit on one, too.
I hate myself for doing it, but what other sort of vehicle can a serious farmer have?
Once you move from a crew cab truck to a Discovery, you can’t go back.
A Defender? Obviously not. I have a personality, I don’t need to buy one. A Land Cruiser is too big a statement in the other direction. The Grenadier has a whiff of Brexit about it.
There are simply no other choices, unless you decide that you don’t care whether anyone actually likes you and you opt for a Range Rover.
This will be the farm’s 10th Discovery. It is fascinating how one builds an affinity with certain brands.
My commitment to Barbour coats, Toyota industrial forklifts and Bailey trailers is unshakeable, and yet different individuals, through a mix of their own experience and emotion, will have entirely different loyalties.
I ponder, then, the risks that such behaviour presents. If I can be persuaded, out of brand loyalty, to buy a car that, deep down, I know is ugly, then how else can my behaviour be manipulated?
This, of course, is why megalomaniacs like to own newspapers. It’s why Elon Musk bought Twitter. It’s why large food companies buy small, ethical brands.
As trusted companies fall into larger hands, we should always stop and question if the values and service that earned our loyalty still apply.
Land Rover, I’m watching you. Still, at least Julian and I can sleep safe in the knowledge that the ugliness of our new cars will be an appropriate theft deterrent.