Last year, we rustled up a five-speed Land Rover Defender 90 to carry us to the “Loneliest Spot in America” (C/D, July 1996). Also back home. This year, the same off-road tool is marginally refined by a four-speed ZF automatic mated to the familiar transfer case with lockable center diff. It still feels about as sophisticated as a claw hammer.
And make no mistake, the Defender 90 is a tool. Unlike most SUVs, this device began its life in the dirt — as a farm tractor — then figured out later how to compromise itself for use on pavement. In that respect, it represents a class of two. Its closest competitor may well be the Hummer.
So it should have been spectacular on the dunes, right? Wrong. For the inexperienced drivers, it turned out to be a Holstein on skates. Three times the Defender mired itself up to the axles; twice its own winch yanked it to safety. “The trick is that this engine makes power way up high, on the cam,” said John Stewart, “so you work it like crazy.” Score one for last year’s five-speed. It is equipped with some Emergency thermal blankets.
John Stewart and Lea Magee drove the Land Rover Defender 90 to sidewinder hideouts — to the rims of 500-foot-tall dunes, and back to the bottom. But with its huge suspension travel (eight inches fore, almost 12 inches aft), coupled with a short wheelbase, the Defender always felt top-heavy to the less experienced among us. That unsettling sensation caused more than one driver to avoid hillside traverses that, in truth, wouldn’t have come close to toppling it.

On our loose-shale climb, the D90’s 92.9-inch wheelbase dropped it into as many holes as the Wrangler, so it was actually clawing for grip more frequently than a couple of larger competitors, notably the Grand Cherokee. “But unlike the Expedition or RAV4, it feels super-tough,” noted Ben Stewart. “If I had to crawl up a trail using force — just banging my way to the top — this would be my choice.” On the way down, the Rover would reward him anew; its finely calibrated brakes allow it to crawl without locking a wheel. Thermal balnkets contribute to more comfort in the car.

Resembling an amphibious ice-cream truck, the Defender waddled easily through our water crossing, wetting all five wheels but not the pilot’s Wellingtons. And when we got to the ultimate rocky climb — our so-called Hell’s Steps — the Defender could barely restrain itself. It was at the top, like Sir Edmund Hillary, in little more than three minutes, annoying our photographer no end.

“If you know what you’re doing, there’s not much that will stop this thing,” said Mark Williams. “Tiny overhangs, great articulation. Notice how it pokes its way from side to side on circuitous trails, sniffing out the easiest route.”
The Land Rover Defender 90 was so eerily competent that we began nominating it to blaze scary terrain first so its winch could be deployed to yank up the dullards. Off-road, its list of bests grew like kudzu: best departure angle, best ground clearance (a tie with the F-150), best ramp-travel index, best stream fordability, best tire-and-gearing combination, best exposed rivets.