Our Cars: Range Rover P550e Autobiography

So I headed home and after I stopped to fill it up, even the warning light went out. Land Rover still sent out Land Rover Assist (aka the AA) and the bloke plugged it into his laptop and confirmed the car was indeed fine but that, for reasons unknown, at the time of the problem, five out of its six cylinders were misfiring. So I was trying to climb quite a steep hill in a single-cylinder Range Rover, which also explains why the transmission in its desperate attempts to keep the show on the road got a bit hot under the collar.

How do I see this now? Not ideal, but the truth is that in all the miles I did, it only really packed up once and for a very short period of time, cured itself, never failed to get me where I needed to go and never needed to go anywhere for remedial attention. And then there’s the other side of the coin.

You can pick holes in the spec of this car, as I have in previous reports, and were it my money I’d have a mid-range, long-wheelbase HSE with a loading bay like a small van; with its optional executive seating the package of this standard wheelbase car was notably compromised in both the back and boot, and having driven an HSE to Belgium and back during the loan, there’s almost nothing about the flagship ‘Autobiography’ trim I missed. I worried a little about the turning circle of the longer car, but with really effective four-wheel steering it’ll still turn inside many far smaller cars.

The only surprise is I’d definitely now choose the plug-in hybrid over the diesel, and not just for tax purposes. It has more power, more torque and it’s not the kind of car that’s unduly troubled by the considerable weight increase. But what I enjoyed most was that over the 8500 miles I recorded, it did 50mpg. Now of course that was supplemented by a stack of electricity from my wall box, but when you compare the price of that energy to what comes out of the pumps, it’s still a very cost-effective way to run a car of that size and heft. And the range is amazing: it will vary from user to user but on average I did close to 700 miles between refills. Just remember that you cannot buy a seven-seat PHEV Range Rover.

But I haven’t yet touched on what’s best about this car, which is how it makes you feel as a driver. Mercedes once proved that driving an S-Class lowered your blood pressure, and I don’t doubt it for a second, but in here you risk hypotension. The ride is so good, refinement levels so high I mean it absolutely when I say you’d need a Rolls-Royce to feel any more comfortable on board.

It’s surprisingly rapid too, and always faster than you think because it is so good at just lolloping along, it’s actually pretty rare that you use even most of the power, let alone all of it. Of all the long-termers I’ve run, I have no doubt my slowest point-to-point speeds were achieved in this one, because you’re so satisfyingly sunk into those sybaritic surroundings that the desire to get there any sooner simply evaporates. You no longer feel the need to get past the car in front, nor up your speed when a car is following just to see whether you’re holding it up or not. I’m not saying it takes you to a place of automotive nirvana because that would imply some loss of the sense of self: on the contrary it actually makes you more aware of what’s going on around you. Just less affected by it.

Only on one occasion did I feel the need – yes need – to drive the wheels off the thing, and that was when I risked missing an opportunity to fly a Spitfire and I had to peg it back to Goodwood as fast its 22in Diamond Turned with Gloss Dark Grey contrast wheels would carry it. It was a short journey, I don’t suppose either of us enjoyed it that much, but it was fine. Vast, tall and heavy though it is, it has been set up by people who know exactly what they’re doing and it is never less than accurate, composed and reassuring even when pushed as hard as it is sensible to go.

Other downsides? It won’t tow the full 3500kg allowed by non-hybrid Range Rovers, though 3000kg is probably plenty for most; it claims it has an all-electric range of 70 miles which it just doesn’t, something between 52 and 62 depending on weather is the reality. Some people take violent dislike to its Batumi gold paint, while others really like it; the charging socket is not illuminated which is infuriating when you’re stabbing at it in the cold, dark and rain; and the flap that covers it rarely shuts at first push. The rear parcel shelf is awkward to remove and difficult to replace, the (optional remember) rear seats don’t fold flat or anywhere close to it, nor can children in child seats sensibly sit behind the telly screens, all of which problems disappear the moment you decide, very sensibly, not to have the Executive Comfort Class rear seats. And the telephone charging pad is hopeless.

Upsides? The Pivi Pro human machine interface (HMI) is really very good these days when in an old Rangie it would for me be reason enough all by itself not to buy the car, the app is superb (as previously mentioned), the refrigerator between the front seats will turn your room temperature raisin and biscuit Yorkie into a tooth-breaker in about 15 mins, while the heated front screen will shed the thickest, most adherent carapace of ice in a couple of minutes max.

So here’s what it’s done for me. I have been a slight SUV-sceptic for decades, not really cars like this, more those that have largely replaced family hatchbacks and estates. Taller, heavier, slower, more polluting, with poorer handling, reduced performance, inferior economy and requiring more effort to stop, I have always struggled to see their point. And I guess some of that mud sticks, even in Range Rover territory. But when a car can use its mass to provide ride quality unknown to almost any other car, its height to supply a genuinely panoramic driving position, when there’s so much performance anyway, a hybrid system at least to mitigate fuel consumption and emissions, the result is not just an exceptional car, but an opportunity for me to reassess my attitude to such machines. Which is why in many ways this is the most surprising long-termer I’ve run.

I’ll leave you with a final image. It’s 5.30am and I’ve been up most of the night, trying to do the impossible and get my 6ft 3in frame comfortable in an economy seat on British Airways’ longest non-stop flight. I’m tired, aching, fractious and the bus to the long-term car park is late. By the time it arrives the queue of people coming off transatlanticers is clearly more than one bus can carry.

Somehow Mrs Frankel and I squeeze ourselves aboard and stand crushed up against everyone else. Through the odour of unwashed bodies comes another, from someone who appears to have been poisoned by their in-flight meal. We all pretend not to notice; the hacking cough and streaming nose of the bloke directly adjacent to me are harder to ignore. I try using only the shallowest of breaths, not wanting to draw his disease deep into my lungs but only end up feeling dizzy. Stop after stop we trawl around the car park until finally, like a great golden god, the Rangie hoves into view. It’s been nearly three weeks, but my hands work like those of an automaton: engine on, seat and steering wheel heating on, ADAS systems into ‘custom’ mode, CarPlay connected.

My front door is still over two hours away but right here, right now and in every way that matters to me, I am already home.