R-over rated?

Oh no. Land Rover are about to launch a new Defender. I can't believe it. I really had hoped that they would send this ridiculous machine to its grave - and not a moment too soon.

I just don't get the Land Rover Defender. To many it'll seem sacrilegious to knock what is probably the ultimate iconic farm vehicle, but I just don't understand why people worship the damn things. We have had plenty of Defenders/90s/110s on this farm, so I like to think that I speak from experience - sometime bitter experience.

My father always had 108/110 pickups, with the canvas roof. These were very useful machines for feeding cattle, pottering round the farm, and towing a toboggan in the days when we used to get snow, but for anything else they were rubbish.

Taking one into town was a nightmare, thanks to the under-powered engines and awful handling. A trip into Winchester justified packing a Thermos flask, plenty of hot food and a change of clothing.

But back in those lucrative days, there was a smart Volvo in his garage, which my father used for the most of his travelling. The Land Rover would sit in the yard, open, with the keys in the ignition. It was quite safe; if anyone tried to nick it, PC Wheezy the one-legged overweight asthmatic policeman could have another cup of tea and a bun (or two), and still catch up with the embarrassed and misguided thief after only five hundred yards.

When I took over the farm, I traded in the 110 pick-up and my trusty (if a bit rusty) Fiat Panda 4x4 for a low mileage Defender 90 Van. It was a fairly icky green, and had one of the early diesel engines - hardly run in at 40,000 miles. Yes, it was bigger and quicker, but I soon became aware of the pitfalls of Defender ownership.

There's nowhere to store anything in the cab - the rubbish mono radio was apologetically glued on somewhere near my right knee. The rear door was too narrow to be practical, and I lost count of the number of times the rear belt loop in my trousers got pinged by the door latching point. It was only recently that I realised why seasoned Defender owners climb into their machines with one hand behind them, tucked just below the small of their backs. They are protecting a vital part of their trousers.

Then there were the idiotic wipers, the useless heater, and the comedy handbrake - don't apply it, it might jam! And whatever you do, don't get any nasty dirty mud near the propshaft UJs - they'll seize within days.

And God help you if you got a puncture. Haul the spare wheel off the bonnet or off the rear door, and then start the process of jacking up. Two major problems here: the first is that the jack appears to be made of tinfoil-covered cardboard, and the second one is that when you have finally got the corner up, and the wheel off, you'll discover that you've forgotten the 'apply diff-lock and use wheel chocks' procedure. The Defender will elegantly roll one way or the other, wrecking the jack and crashing down onto the wheel hub. Perhaps that's why mileage was kept to a minimum, to avoid punctures. And that's why every seasoned Defender owner had a 3-ton jack somewhere in the back.

Remember the nicely run-in diesel engine? Well, the camshaft snapped after another 10,000 miles. Nothing trivial. Just a whole new engine needed.

The replacement engine saga epitomised Land Rover's biggest problem: reliability. Don't take my word for it. Have a look in your local paper, check out your neighbour's barn conversions. Every other parish has a Land Rover specialist beavering away in a barn, trying to sort out jammed hand-brakes, replace damaged wheel hubs, or installing new engines. When was the last time you read about a similar establishment, but servicing Toyotas or Mitsubishis? Never. They're just not needed. As the Australians say: "You can visit the outback in a Land-Rover, but if you want to come home alive, you take a Toyota."

OK, so we're not visiting the outback. But even for farm use, the Defender never seemed practical. Yes, it was good off road, but my Fiat Panda, and the old Mini van I had before that, were quite capable of handling the vast majority of farm situations given careful driving and the right choice of tyres.

The Defender's rear door and load area were too narrow to be useful, the turning circle was a joke, and the damn thing filled with water after the smallest of showers.

But the most off-putting thing about the Defender in recent years has been its metamorphosis from no-nonsense if uncomfortable and unreliable farm workhorse to girlie-wirlie Chelsea tractor.

All sorts of bells and whistles have appeared: there's air-conditioning, electric windows, alarms - lost of electrical gadgets and gizmos which I would have thought, given Land Rovers reputation for reliability and the hostile environment in which Land Rover are meant to work, is a recipe for disaster.

And there are plush seats and fitted carpets - even more of a problem bearing in mind that Land Rover seem incapable of keeping rainwater out of their vehicles. It always makes me chuckle, when I see another convoy of Fast Show "let's off-road"-types churning noisily along the lane, to spot how many have deep-wading snorkel air-intakes to keep water out of the engine. How much more useful would a properly shutting door be?

There's one thing we can predict with absolute certainty about the new Defender when it arrives: it will not be any simpler than the old one. I doubt that there will be a vinyl-floored, gizmo-free version with the slenderest of wiring looms. It will look much the same, but you can guarantee that it will be laden with even more sophisticated electronics. And, to keep up with the rest of the Chelsea Tractor market, it will be even plusher and even more comfy. Not quite the machine for carrying two dead calves to the kennels.

I wish the new Defender well - of course I do. But when the 4WD market is so full, it's going to take more than a comfy seat and a well fitted radio to make me buy another one.