Talking about my L322… Because everyone seems to be talking about the L322 these days…
I don’t think everyone is talking about the L322 because it’s the ‘best car ever made’. Because it isn’t. Not by any measure. The next model on is probably a better drive, more economical, more powerful, more capable.
Everyone is talking about the L322 because it was the ‘best car ever made’ twenty four years ago (as of 2026). And everyone is talking about it because of the elapsed time and richly deserved reputation for complexity, it’s become cheap enough for public school influencers in tweed caps and jackets to purchase a little slice of upper class Britain, and the kind of grubby farmer-esque image that looks well on the lawns of Goodwood estate. Endorsed by Clarkson, Harry Metcalfe and the like – it’s likely the most accessible ticket up the social class ladder you can buy.
They’ve also become accessible to grubby oiks like me, whose life seems to be held together with baler twine and cable ties, lurching from one disaster to the next. Highly stressed work, a non-existent life-balance, family, children, home-brew race cars, illnesses and health complications in my nearest and dearest testing every fibre I have to breaking point on a daily basis. Why wouldn’t I throw a flawed, temperamental and frankly old daily driver into the mix?
Wind the clock back two years (have I really had it that long?) and I was still in the VW Scirocco Mk2 that I was running daily. An indulgence really – the toy I’d bought to keep me out of trouble after selling my Superstox (more on that later…). A great car, one of my favourites – we had a lot of fun together. Not quite hardy enough to cope with daily use in truth, not quite big enough to fit the family in, no capacity for towing (towing Superstox…) I sold it, released my stake money and asked a question – what is the best car I could buy for under £5k?
I’d shortlisted a few. Did I want a van? Maybe. BMW E60? Definitely. Disco TD5? Yes… Mercedes E Class? A bit soul-less. The L322 had always felt out of reach to me. In my mind, they were still a new car, and I was still a ten year old straining to peer over the scraper seals of one a local property developer had, in absolute awe of the acres of leather and wood…
Dad had a P38. My grandfather had a P38. In the end, I’d had about three of them – I had a love-hate relationship with all of them. Great when they worked – which was never – and painful when they didn’t. The L322 felt like five generations hence from the P38, and out of reach from someone like me.
I searched on eBay, expecting to find only wrecks within reach… But no. From a dealer (Heel and Toe Cars – Coggeshall based, great guys to deal with) MY TD6 was for sale, within reach and a deal was struck. The very best example I could find was mine for comfortably under £5k. 84k miles, and the tow bar was still wrapped in factory cellophane… I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t, really.
There are ropey ones around for almost no money at all now, but this car was and is exceptional.
It hasn’t always rewarded me as much as you’d hope – but probably has as much as you’d expect. We had a difficult honeymoon period, with air suspension issues (Chinese reproduction compressor caused most problems here) that dogged me for some considerable time whilst I learned the suspension system enough to fix it. It actually blew up one air suspension spring, but had the decency to do so on my driveway at least.
The fuel pump stopped pumping some time later, and scariest of all the lower front ball joint nut came undone – presumably as someone historically didn’t tighten it up enough.
The stereo system really dates the interior, and I’ve got used to the missing pixels now. It’s a sod to change for a modern replacement, I haven’t had the time to suss out how yet – which is a shame.
And it’s slow. The TD6 is fine when you’re rolling but honestly getting there? Another 50bhp would do it the world of good. Except that it wouldn’t, because the gearbox would appear to be made of the same kind of cheese McDonalds use in their burgers, so putting more power through it would dump me at the side of the road one day, categorically, with an expensive and complex job to do.
And yet.
At the risk of sounding like my yuppie would-be car journalist nemeses (nemesi?) there is something about a Range Rover that no other car gives you. The JLR marketing squit called the driving position the ‘command position’, and I may vomit at that, but it bluddy well feels like it. All of them do – from the classics to the current models. And it’s so smooth, so easy to drive… I’ve had less relaxing deep tissue massages than the drive of this thing.
I genuinely relish the opportunity to do a long distance road trip in it. You should see my little face light up when I’ve got the opportunity to point north or south, set the cruise control, let the suspension drop to motorway height and just… Go.
Theres no other car I can think of that’s quite so versatile either. I’ve taken the whole family out for trips. I’ve delivered three engines all at the same time and collected about 18 tyres from Lincolnshire without breaking a sweat. I’ve towed, recovered, waded in rivers, rescued lesser cars from floods, and done it all in a car that would still look at home with some celebrity in the back pulling up to a red carpet even now.
I think it’s handsome too, and I also think my pre-facelift front end is the best of the lot.
I love it. I look back at it every time I park up. It’s the first car I’ve had for about fifteen years I make a conscious effort to keep clean and serviced. I’m glad I can take care of the expensive mechanical stuff myself – I wouldn’t want garage rate bills – but it’s worth taking care of.
£5k to feel like landed gentry every time you drive anywhere? The preppy twits are right – it’s a steal. Oh yah, ya know…
