Motoring
Rover returns
Alan Judd
BMW, Rover's late owner, spent some £700 million designing and producing this car. Its launch attracted attention — some hostile, most approving — for its retro looks, but was cruelly overshadowed by BMW's troubles, a consequence of their fundamental strategic confusion about what Rover was for. From this uncertain beginning, the car's popularity has grown steadily; with careful management and the right pricing it could help save the compa- ny. Both deserve to succeed.
The 75's lines make it one of the best- looking modern cars, along with the S-Type Jaguar. In fact, its rear end is better than the Jaguar's, properly finished rather than finished off. And, as with the Jaguar, the so- called retro look is actually two parts mod- ern and only one part retro, but that part is the most suggestive and evocative. It's graceful and it looks more than the com- pact saloon it is. It's best in darker colours. Internally, the five instruments — clear, cream, simple, oval and round dials attracted most attention at the launch. The upper dashboard is a triumph, the wheel a pleasure to hold and behold. The lower dash, with its computer screen, air-condi- tioning, radio and other controls, is less suc- cessful because it's a bit cluttered and fiddly. Yes, you can find your way through it with the instruction book — but it lacks the immediate accessibility and plain elegance of what lies above it. The leather seats were comfortable and sufficiently adjustable, rear legroom reasonable for the size of car, rear headroom rather better than most.
The 75 comes in three specification lev- els — Classic, Club and Connoisseur and four engine sizes, 1.8, 2.0 V6, 2.5 V6 and a 2.0 diesel. I had the 2.5 V6 Connois- seur. Reports suggest that the 1.8 may be a little underpowered and that the new 50mpg diesel is lively enough to make it the best option of all. The 2.5 V6, meanwhile, is obviously the most powerful and with a combined mpg of 24.3 in automatic form (29.2 in manual) it is not outrageously thirsty. It is certainly a very sweet and smooth engine and its 0-60mph time of 8.9 seconds (8.2 with manual gearbox) and top speed of 134mph (137 manual) means it goes faster than most owners will ever drive. It also has a slightly sporty exhaust note, which I think I read was added delib- erately and is a more pleasing accessory than you might think. You listen for it and then — within strictly moderate limits, of course — find yourself responding to it.
Handling — enhanced in the test vehicle by traction control — is precise and sure. I was less happy with the automatic gearbox, which was seamless on changing up but too noticeable on changing down, almost as though the car were set up to use engine braking for off-roading. Other niggles included the slight awkwardness of being able to open the boot only from inside and inadequate fastenings for the soundproof- ing beneath the bonnet.
Otherwise, the car looked and felt good. With its three-year warranty, it should offer driving pleasure with peace of mind. If you buy before the end of September you get a `Can I see some top-shelf material?' 10 per cent reduction (applicable across the Rover range), which brings the £24,030 price of the test car down to £21,595, and the base model 75 down to £16,495. That's good money for a good Rover.
If, however, it's the real old Viking you want, I know of a beautifully restored 1956 Rover 90, sage green, tan leather, low wing model, verified 114,000 miles. It's been restored by the only chairman of a multina- tional I know, a meticulous Rover fanatic who wants top money for it — £9,750. But it must be one of the half-dozen best P4s in existence. And Vikings never did come cheap.
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