I Don’t Love That I Love The Supercharged Land Rover Defender 130

When I became an autojournalist, I technically didn’t own a car. My girlfriend had an automatic Honda Civic that I could borrow, which scarcely counts. This wasn’t due to a lack of interest. That yearning to own as many stupid cars as possible never goes away. It’s just that I lived in Chicago and had easier access to public transit than to the money required to park a car in the city, let alone insure one.

Not owning a car also fit quite well with my lifestyle. Chicago in your early 20s is no place for a teetotaller. Trying to be sober in Chicago, I assume, is like going gluten-free in Naples — I have to assume because I never even tried. Being able to drink in the Second City’s countless great watering holes was a treat, and not having to worry about driving removed one obvious downside.

To be honest, I didn’t need to travel far to drink. Bars are everywhere. The State of Illinois famously outlawed happy hours before I moved there, probably because they were getting sick of commodities traders driving their BMWs into Lake Michigan. Instead of happy hours, we had happy days, which is why my friend Habeab and I spent more hours than I’m capable of remembering drinking at the local U of M bar down the street. The best deal included $1 Coors Lights and half-priced appetizers from open to close, so I could get a full meal and pack away a sixer for less than $20 with a healthy tip. Because Habeab worked the night shift, most of our drinking was timed to the middle of the day so he could sober up enough before work.

The other appeal of this, as a Texan, was the extreme novelty. I grew up in a place where many people drove to their mailboxes. A car was a necessity, and my affection for cars aside, I soon realized the necessity part didn’t stoke that particular fire inside of me. In college, I studied Geography, became enamored with the idea of New Urbanism, and wrote a thesis on the possibilities of transit-oriented development in Central Texas. Living in Chicago showed me what life without needing a car was like.

Upon moving back to Houston, I selected an apartment near the city’s single light rail line, which conveniently connected me to the city’s best attractions (restaurants, baseball, museums, theater, opera/ballet) without needing a car. I also immediately bought a Volvo 240 wagon because needing a car and wanting a car are two different things. Also, I had free parking. My budding urbanism, as always, collided with my other passion.

The curse of self-awareness is realizing how many contradictions are hardwired into existence. I want to personally have 9,000 cars and, at the same time, I want other people to have fewer cars. I want to live in a place where I can get around without the need for a car, but I also want it to be car-friendly. I believe in anthropogenic climate change and think most people should drive electric cars, but I also believe in the curative power of a big, nasty V8.

Over the years, I’ve come to a sort of internal detente so that I’m able to wake up in the morning and function at my job. I live in a building that’s adjacent to a small downtown, which gives me access, on foot, to concerts and restaurants and shopping and all the stuff I value (while there are many close bars, the proximity of a library is a bit more valuable as a parent). Even better, I can walk to a train that connects me with the heart of Manhattan in under an hour.

Do I have cars? Yes, but I have to pay a price to keep them. The family car (a CR-V Hybrid) and the fun car (my E39) both park in spots with a monthly fee attached to them. I try to limit driving for necessity and, instead, reserve that driving time for fun driving. That’s the goal, at least. While my BMW isn’t exactly a Prius, my average fuel economy is quite high.

There is balance. Or, there was balance, until the 2025 Defender 130 V8 showed up.

The Basics

Engine: 5.0-liter supercharged V8

Transmission: Eight-speed automatic transmission

Drive: All-wheel-drive with twin-speed transfer box

Output: 493 horsepower, 450 lb-ft of torque

Fuel Economy: 14 MPG City, 19 MPG Highway, 16 Combined

Body style: Three-row SUV

Base price: $118,900

Price as-tested: $130,418 including $1,625 Freight Charge

This Is All The Car You Could Ever Want

I have driven a vintage Land Rover Defender, and I think I get it. Not only does it look like it should come with a dukedom, but there’s a personality there that defies all of its many shortcomings. It is not fast. It is not efficient. It’s loud in a not-fun way. Even the best of them can be chores on the road over long distances. There are aftermarket companies that can address some of these issues, but the only way to address all of them is to buy one of these.

The new Defender is a huge departure from the old one in that it does basically everything well. Especially in V8 trim, it is fast. It is relatively efficient for its size, especially compared to the last Defender we got here. It’s loud in the best way and can carry you, your friends, and your rugby gear in supreme comfort for endless miles. It is good in all the ways the OG Defender is not. In fact, someone got so mad about the new Defender being this good that he started his own company to build his own, more faithful version.

Going back to my own internal struggles, I have no qualms with someone owning this car, but I like to think of myself as a person who wouldn’t want one unless I was regularly driving to a house in the mountains or engaging in some sort of outdoorsy sport that required all the capability. The streets in my neighborhood may be bad, but they’re not that bad.

This is a car for lords, ladies, and the Real Housewives of Versailles.

My problem is … I do want this car.

My Soul Is Colored Carpathian

I don’t even mean the idea of a Land Rover Defender in abstract. Thomas drove the shorter 110 version of this car in white and, while it looked fine, I didn’t get that excited about it. The gold standard three-row gas-powered SUV has long been the Alpina XB7 to me, and it was a great relief to me that my appreciation for those has never crossed over into true desire.

This specific size and spec is the car I’d never think to ask for, which is perhaps why my guard was way down. A matte black, autocratic British Suburban? As if.

It’s not even just matte black. It’s the “Carpathian Exterior Pack,” which includes Carpathian Grey paint wrapped with satin protective film, black hood and tail door, and Ebony Windsor leather. This is not a car for me, this is a car for Carpathia’s most famous resident: Dracula.

Aw, crap. Why do I like this thing? I prefer a car with a manual transmission. I’m looking forward to driving our CrossCabriolet through the desert, knowing that the top will probably never go up again. I’ve spent plenty of time online shopping for Kei cars and 2CVs and Renault 4s and exactly zero minutes looking at new-ish British SUVs (I’d mess with a convertible Freelander, though).

Was it the door? I do love that the rear door swings wide instead of up like your traditional SUV. That can’t be it, though. Was it the capability? Not really! I’d love to say I took it on some sort of off-road adventure and, while I did take it hiking, I drove across roads I could have easily conquered in a bagged Honda Insight.

I just used it like a car. I took my kid to play dates. I went to play Ultimate in the rain. I picked up my parents and took the family on a picnic. I just did regular car things. It’s good at car things. The visibility, other than slightly out the rear because of the tire, is surprisingly good. But you know what else is good at car things? A Toyota Corolla Cross Hybrid, and that’s about a fifth the price of this thing.

Is the sound? Maybe. That’s certainly part of the appeal. This V8 sounds great in everything, from the F-Type to the Bowler Nemesis. You could put a wig on it, give it a guitar, and shove it behind Mick Jagger, and it would probably blow Keith Richards off the stage. And like most of the characters on Bridgerton, it’s faster than it pretends to be.

But I drive fast and luxurious cars all the time. I enjoy telling people that I’m not impressed by them, that a good, cheap car is way more of an accomplishment than a great expensive one. Any car you spend more than $100,000 on better be great, and the reality is many of them are just good.

Is this even great? I’m struggling to come up with one thing it does so much better than anything else that I would call it great. I do like where the gear shift lever is placed. That’s something. I do like the shiny black bits on the outside. Contrast is cool.

I’ve Never Been Happier To Not Have $130,000 To Spend On A Car

My grand bargain is busted. I can barely even look at myself in the mirror.

Perhaps my insistence that I have the self-control to live a humble, semi-efficient life is all a lie. Maybe I merely lack the means to indulge my deepest desires, and I’ve constructed an entire self-image around choosing to deny myself these pleasures so I don’t feel bad about not being able to access them. Or, worse, for being able to access them but not truly possess them. If I make it my choice, then I have some control.

Could it be that simple? Are all ethics just a mental white noise designed to tune out the uncomfortable dissonance of life?

Or maybe it’s just comfortable and nice. Maybe I just like certain things and, while I didn’t expect giganto Bram Stoker-spec supercharged SUVs to be one of those things, it just is. If everyone had identical preferences, we’d all drive the same car, eat the same food, and wear the same clothes.

That would be extraordinarily efficient, but it wouldn’t be very fun. The Defender 130 is not extraordinarily efficient, either, but driving it is very fun to me, which I guess is all that matters.

Just don’t loan me $130,000, no matter how much I ask.

Top graphic photo: Matt Hardigree