You can measure the stages of a midlife crisis by the vehicles people buy. Some go for the clichéd red convertible, some opt for a motorcycle, others take up extreme sports. Me? I bought a matte black Land Rover Defender Dynamic SE. Because nothing says “throwing caution to the wind” quite like a rugged, oversized, tech-laden beast of a machine wrapped in stealth-mode black.
This all started with a perfectly sensible Ford Kuga, a hybrid no less, the kind of car that whispers responsibility. It got the job done – efficient, practical, and utterly devoid of personality. But as I found myself scrolling through car listings late at night (as one does when questioning life choices), I decided that if I was going to spend a ridiculous amount of money on a car it might as well be on something I truly wanted. A Jaguar F-Pace flirted with my affections for a while, but deep down I had always hankered after a Defender.
And so, with a dramatic flourish, I found myself at Dick Lovett Melksham, ready to test-drive my destiny. The transaction took five months from order to collection. On its arrival at the dealership I was beside myself with excitement.
Nick, the silver fox car salesmen, eyed the beast before us with barely concealed reverence. “First one we’ve had in this finish,” he murmured, as if we were about to witness something momentous, which in fact we were. Xena (my name for her) is a beauty.
A show of sophistication
The matte black-wrapped Defender Dynamic SE is an absolute showstopper – a bold statement of power, sophistication and adventure, with a plug-in hybrid (PHEV) drivetrain. Its stealthy finish absorbs light rather than reflects it, giving it a brooding, almost sinister allure that commands attention without screaming for it. The wrap accentuates the Defender’s muscular stance, sculpted lines and boxy silhouette, enhancing its rugged yet refined persona.
I won’t lie, part of me felt like an imposter. Was I Defender material? Could I handle this much car? It was an undeniably big leap from the well-mannered Kuga to something that looked like it belonged in an action movie chase scene. But as soon as I sat in her I was in love. She has presence.
It was unapologetically large, with an extra-long bonnet that immediately introduced itself as an enemy of tight corners. My whiskers – metaphorically speaking – were thoroughly discombobulated every time I tried to turn in a restricted space. Parking was an adventure in itself, even with a 360-degree camera as back-up. It felt like trying to park a small tank using a periscope.
But logic be damned – I was all in. I had specified my dream Defender, wrapped it in matte black for that extra brooding allure and signed up for three years of financial commitment via a PHP finance plan. No regrets.
Technology: marvel or menace?
The Defender is packed with so much tech that I half expected it to drive itself. Some of it I understood instantly. Apple CarPlay, so you can play music on your phone via the car’s stereo? Brilliant. Heated seats? A joy. The phone app that allows me to pre-warm the car in winter? Life-changing. It even makes battery use more efficient, which means I can smugly enjoy my preheated luxury with a fraction of the guilt.
Then there are the less intuitive features which baffle me. The navigation system optimises EV battery use, which sounds great until you realise you have no idea what that actually means in real-world driving. The height dimension app should be handy, given my inability to gauge whether the car will fit under anything lower than a motorway bridge, but I still hold my breath every time I approach an underground car park.
And don’t even get me started on the gear lever. Reverse at the top and drive at the bottom? Who designed this? My first three-point turn in a tight spot was an exercise in sheer confusion, flailing limbs and some choice language.
Off-road adventure
To ensure I wasn’t just an urban warrior posing as an off-roader, I signed up for a Land Rover Experience Day in Honiton. It turns out that these cars are designed to do things far beyond the usual supermarket run. The instructor took me through a bespoke set-up, demonstrating a myriad of electronic drive modes and control settings, all of which I instantly forgot once left to my own devices.
The highlight (or lowlight, depending on your perspective) was navigating a sharp downhill incline where I was explicitly told not to touch the brakes. Apparently, the Defender does all the work for you. This defied every instinct I had. As the car crept downward, my knuckles turned white on the steering wheel and I found myself holding my breath – something I now aspire to work on, because breathing is apparently useful when descending mountains.
The drive home
Armed with my newfound knowledge (or at least a vague recollection of it), I embarked on my journey back to Wiltshire. With auto-braking cruise control and battery-efficient navigation engaged, I was pleased to discover I didn’t even need to fill up with petrol. This felt like a small victory – although, let’s be honest, parking at home was still a horror show.
And even with the best intentions, post my lesson in using the touchscreen, I still haven’t managed to set up two driver profiles for myself and my partner. At the moment it’s set for my profile only; so he’ll have to wait for his surround sound country music blasting out of the exquisite music system. (No, I don’t know what type it is!)
Despite my ongoing battles with tight turns and spaces, the Defender and I are settling into a rhythm. It’s a car that demands attention, respect and a bit of blind faith. Every drive is an adventure, every parking attempt a gamble and every interaction with the technology a learning experience.
So, was this the ultimate midlife crisis purchase? Absolutely. Do I regret it? Not for a second. Because sometimes you just have to throw caution to the wind, wrap your car in matte black and embrace the chaos.
Even though I don’t understand half the gizmos I love driving Xena. She handles beautifully and drives so smoothly. And, if nothing else, I’ll look good while attempting (and often failing) to park it – when I nearly wedged her in a car wash, at least I did it with panache.