Have you ever heard the saying, ‘You Can’t Be A True Petrolhead Until You’ve Owned An Alfa’? If you haven’t, it was said by Saint Clarkson of Cotswold, Patron Saint of Petrohead-dom’. He coined this saying and I’ve interpreted it as you aren’t a diehard until you’ve had the joys of this addiction–the hardships, pains, groans, and wallet crippling issues of owning an Alfa. But Alfas aren’t quite what they used to be.
They’re still quirky, unreliable, and unique, unlike the cars Jeremy Clarkson is referring to. What the Alfa is today is a Land Rover. More specifically, a Range Rover. And even more specific to that, an L322, preferably Supercharged. It’s the worst, of the worst, of the worst, of the best. It is surely made to put you into bankruptcy with brief moments of smiles from a five-hundred-horsepower SUV that is shaped like a refrigerator.
I went into my 2012 L322 Supercharged with a modest amount of optimism. I had a friend in my corner who was a Land Rover expert and had minor issues with a nearly identical car. Mine was found five hours away, bought from a little old lady who’d achieved an average computer readout speed of 21 mph, and had a stack of maintenance documents.
After two years of ownership and a mere 10,000 miles, I am a grizzled, disheveled, wide-eyed, and cautious man. I’ve seen things, terrible things. The wrinkles on my forehead have gotten deep. My beard and hair are going grey and white. The sound of a 5.0L AJV8 can make my heart race and cause me to seek shelter. I am wiser, yet damaged.
It is in these moments of PTSD reflection of my ownership that I try and remember the good times—the blinding speed of a five-thousand-pound SUV dodging and darting through traffic like a hippopotamus with ballet shoes. There was no storm I feared, for I had faith in the Terrain Response. One twist of the knob to snow, mud, or rock crawl, and I knew I’d be cruising through Terra Firma that others would be bogged down in.
Life was better in the Range Rover when it wasn’t trying to murder my bank account. It had heated and cooled seats. A slight stab of the throttle and I was doing 120 mph with ease. Thanks to the air suspension, it rode like it had silk tires that rolled on pillows of marshmallow honey. The visibility from the saddle was excellent, and peasants looked upon me with reverence. People often remarked I’d gotten a new car–unintelligent beings, as this car is now three generations old. You feel like you’ve made it in a Range Rover, that is, right until you don’t.
My ten thousand miles of ownership should be more considered a stewardship, as it was nearly mechanically totaled once. The fool I am should have let it die, but my automotive masochism couldn’t let that happen. It was a rare Sumatra Black car. The interior was near flawless and letting something die without a fight isn’t in me. I had the roof and hood re-clear coated, the fuel tank started to leak due to brittle plastic (other plastic bits needed mending too), and lastly, the transmission ate the transfer case.
The total milking of my bank account was more than $10,000 for 10,000 miles of ownership. That’s more than a dollar per mile if you factor in $500 a year to register it and the $1,200 per year to insure it. And yet, I don’t regret it. It is still a fabulous car. Doug Demuro became famous for his CarMax warranty antics from his L322 ownership–the silhouette still used for opening each of his YouTube videos. Jeremy Clarkson uses his still to cart around pigs and goats on his farm with a Holland and Holland drinks cabinet in the back. Many others have owned, loved, hated, cursed, kissed, and gained valuable insight into this hobby from their ownership.
Less a vehicle for ferrying around your family at Mach 10 speed than it is a test. Do you enjoy this hobby or are you a poser? Can you handle true mechanical mayhem, or will you continue to buy Toyotas and claim you know gearhead heartache? It is for these reasons, ‘You’re not a true enthusiast until you own a Range Rover.’ I said it here, first. The Alfa is not realistic anymore, nor are the modern cars as suicidal as having an old Range Rover.
Maybe Clarkson said it best instead…You Can’t Be A True Petrolhead Until You’ve Owned A Range Rover.
Cheers,
M. T. Blake
PS: I sold my 2012 Land Rover Range Rover Supercharged (L322) in Sumatra Black last week to a gentleman who came across the country for it and has had six of them–tougher guy than me.
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