Car review: Twisted Land Rover Defender 110 Utility

Idiosyncratic, characterful and requires a lot of patience. Sound like anyone you know?

You need to recalibrate your expectations if you’re going to take on a Twisted Defender, which can trace its design history back to 1948 (Photography by Twisted Automotive)

When I was in the sixth form a lot of my mates were getting into motorbikes or, if they were mods, scooters. Two wheels, anyway. Some defiantly chose British bikes because of, rather than despite, the fact that they were less reliable than the Japanese alternatives. It was never for me, because I had a firm belief that four wheels were inherently safer and more comfortable than two, and I was too scared of falling off, but I used to enjoy chatting about their machines. A Triumph, a Norton or a BSA, it was explained to me, had character, and the little pool of oil you’d always find underneath one that had been standing was only an outward and visible expression of its (presumably incontinent) bulldog personality. By comparison the Suzukis, Hondas and Kawasakis that were by then filling Britain’s roads were characterless, clinical and left them cold. Mopeds, by the way, it was generally agreed, were the machinery of a milksop.

It was cobblers of course, but that didn’t really matter in a way, though if you were handy with a spanner it helped make sure you got home OK. The point was that your image and your identity were invested in a machine that had a certain image, and that included the fact that it didn’t idle properly, and leaked some of its fluids. It was a mindset.

Much the same is true if you take on a Land Rover Defender, even one customised by Twisted, a small outfit in Yorkshire that does its best to make the old thing, cultish and with plenty of image, a bit more habitable – but without losing that undefinable quality of “character”.

The firm took 250 of the last Defenders which were made last year and has been busily modifying them ever since (Twisted Automotive)

So, as with my friends with old British motorcycles, you need to recalibrate your expectations if you’re going to take on a Twisted Defender, which can trace its design history back to 1948. After a while, for example, I realised that the stalks for the wipers and indicators were the same as on my 1980s Mini, as were the plastic interior door pulls. Clear and functional as the switchgear is, they are also quite dated (and if my experience is anything to go by in the Mini, a little fragile in service). In truth, you need a more forgiving nature than most contemporary car buyers have to live with a Defender, and, as a living automotive fossil, it is an educative experience in how idiosyncratic, or characterful, cars used to be.

In my test car, then, I had to get used to a squall clutch pedal, the sort of thing that might have a Toyota Land Cruiser driver fulminating on Twitter through the entire Christmas holiday. Instead I got used to it. I also got used to the diesel engine being a pretty reluctant performer when cold, even though it’s a relatively modern Ford unit, (ex-Transit van) and “chipped” for some extra go by Twisted. To be fair it is quite lively, for a diesel, once it warms up. I got used to the way the combined Kenwood infotainment and rear camera screen on the dash got stuck at a 90-degree angle. Though it still worked, I had to peer round to try and see it. I got used to the clock packing up. I even got used to the nice aluminium “billet” door handle that was so stiff the driver’s door eventually jammed shut. Cool as you’ll feel in any Defender, you will be undone if anyone spots you clambering over to the passenger seat to get in and out

Get used to the passenger seat – you’ll be clambering over it when the driver’s door is jammed shut (Twisted Automotive)

The spec

Twisted Land Rover Defender 110 Utility

Price: around £55,000 + VAT

Engine capacity: 2.2-litre diesel; 6-sp manual

Power output (bhp): 170

Top speed (mph): 90

0-62 mph (seconds): 12

Fuel economy (mpg): 25

CO² Emissions (g/km): 295

I suppose there’s no getting away from the Defender’s outright off-road capability, its charm and its character, amplified – the unkind would say pimped – by Twisted. The firm took 250 of the last Defenders which were made last year and has been busily modifying them ever since, with a spec for interior trim and mechanics depending on customer choice. If you’re a purist then you’d not want much doing and the adjustments can be modest. The five door “Utility” long wheel base I tried – basically five-door five-seater, four-wheel drive van – had a properly carpeted interior with leather seats and dash, plus Alcantara (faux suede leather) roof lining and piano black revised facia. Plus those revamped door handles. There’s heated seats and air conditioning too, and even central remote locking and the usual stability controls. Twisted also tweaks the suspension for extra ride comfort, and you’ll get LED headlights and tail lamps, a nice little steering wheel, special 18-inch alloys and a tow bar. Beyond that you can specify pretty much any bespoke combination, and I notice that Twisted does a variant with a 6-litre petrol Chevy V8, which does sound fun.

Round town this chunky motor – all of seven feet tall – was a bit of a handful. Underground car parks can be slightly touch and go, and the extra fat alloy wheels leave it with quite a compromised turning circle, while its sheer length and width make it tricky to manoeuvre or park. They call these sort of things Chelsea tractors and there’s a reason, unrelated to class hatred that makes such vehicles unpopular with fellow city dwellers, and that is they simply bung up crowded streets. Still, you do see quite a few Twisted Land Rovers, invariably the shorter three-door ones, in the more affluent districts of London as well as those Mercedes-Benz G-Wagens, Germany’s answer to the Land Rover

Not made for urban driving, because of its sheer size (Twisted Automotive)

When I tested the Mercedes-AMG G63 a few weeks ago, which retails for some £162,000 I wondered why Land Rover didn’t pull off the same trick with the iconic Defender – butch looks married to souped-up engine plus full luxury interior and all the kit the modern driver could wish for. Then I drove the Twisted Land Rover Defender, and I realised why this had never happened. It wasn’t because of commercial ignorance; it was because it wouldn’t work.

I’m sorry to say that, for all the superficial similarity in concept, they aren’t really alternatives at all, and the Defender isn’t such a suitable basis for that kind of modernisation. Twisted does seem to understand that, which is why, on the whole, the changes it makes to most of its Defenders are comparatively modest, and they have to be because the basic vehicle is such an unsuitable base for a more radical transformation. A Twisted Defender, in other words, which is the only new one you can buy “on demand” now, will never have the build quality of a Merdeces, and will never delver AMG standards of handling and on-road performance, and will never possess truly state-of-the-art electronics. It’s not about those things, really; it’s about character, and image. That’s the twist, you see.