Living with a 14 year old Range Rover
There’s a certain kind of look you get when you tell someone you’ve built a 14-year-old Range Rover L322 for overlanding. It’s part curiosity, part disbelief, and part “you must be mad.” And to be fair, I get it. The L322 doesn’t exactly have a glowing reputation in online forums or in the comments of YouTube videos. In fact, it’s become something of a meme: complex, expensive to fix, unreliable.
But here’s the truth: they’re only unreliable if you ignore them.
Living with an L322 isn’t for everyone. It takes effort, it takes attention, and it definitely takes a bit of mechanical sympathy. But when you put in the time and stay ahead of the curve, they’re incredibly capable, comfortable, and dependable vehicles. And I say that with over 50,000 miles of real-world travel experience to back it up.
Regular Maintenance: The Backbone of Reliability
The key to keeping an L322 alive and well? Maintenance. Real maintenance. Not just oil top-ups and the occasional tyre check — I’m talking about proper intervals, using quality parts, and respecting the vehicle's needs.
I do oil and filter changes every 5,000 miles. Some people might say that’s overkill, but I’ve got 175,000 miles on the clock and I’m still running strong. Clean oil is cheap insurance. Glenrands, the specialists who service the L322, always run full pre-trip and post-trip checks. They look for signs of play in the ball joints, inspect the air suspension bags for any wear or cracking, and keep an eye out for leaks in all the usual places. It’s that kind of preventative maintenance that makes all the difference.
Gearbox and transfer box oils? Changed every 20,000 miles. Diff oils? Every 10,000. Again, some might call that excessive. I call it peace of mind. When you're deep in the hills of Portugal or halfway up a remote trail in the Pyrenees, the last thing you want is to be worrying about the health of your drivetrain.
The Myth of the Unreliable Range Rover
There’s this narrative online that Range Rovers — especially older ones — are unreliable by default. And sure, they have their quirks. But so does every vehicle once it's past a certain age.
What drives me mad are the YouTube videos with titles like "I bought a £2,000 L322 and took it off-road — it broke!" Of course it broke. If you buy a high-mileage luxury SUV for the cost of a new mountain bike, skip the maintenance, slap on a set of eBay tyres, and expect it to climb mountains without a hitch, you’re not overlanding — you’re asking for trouble.
It’s not the car that failed. It’s the approach, and the idiot who did this.
Build It Right, Drive It Smart
My L322 didn’t become an overlander overnight. It’s evolved over years. From the suspension to the electrics, every upgrade has come from real-world needs. I don’t just bolt stuff on for the sake of it. I iterate. I test. I adjust.
I use quality parts. I don’t skimp on bushings, ball joints, or sensors. I check the live data regularly. I run full diagnostics every couple of months, just to make sure things aren’t slowly heading in the wrong direction. I monitor voltages, temperatures, pressures. It's not paranoia — it's preparation.
I also respect the vehicle's limits. Yes, it has low-range, terrain response, and a locking rear diff. But I don’t treat it like a rock crawler. It's a refined touring vehicle. Comfortable on the road, capable off it. It’s about balance.
Comfort + Capability = Long-Distance Weapon
Here’s where the L322 shines. It’s not just about being able to go off-road. It’s about being able to do it in comfort, day after day. Long-distance travel across the Iberian Peninsula isn’t just about mud and rocks. It’s about 600-mile days, hot weather, cold mornings, endless elevation changes, and everything from tarmac to trail.
The L322 handles all of it with ease. The air suspension takes the sting out of rough terrain. The heated seats take the edge off early Alpine starts. The V8 torque (or the TDV8 grunt) makes mountain passes feel like motorways.
It’s a vehicle that makes you want to stay on the road longer. And that’s what overlanding is about.
Ownership Means Responsibility
A lot of people want the dream without the discipline. They want a capable, luxurious overlander that never needs attention. That doesn’t exist.
If you want to own a vehicle like this, you need to take responsibility for its health. That means:
Logging your services and checks
Replacing worn parts before they fail
Listening to noises, watching for changes
Using proper fluids, filters, and tools
It means understanding that "cheap now" often means "expensive later."
And if you do all of that? You get a vehicle that will reward you every time you turn the key. Or press the button, in this case.
It’s Not About Being a Mechanic
You don’t have to be a Land Rover tech to keep an L322 going. But you do need to be engaged. Read the manual. Learn how to scan for codes, get a reader. Get familiar with your vehicle’s quirks. And work with a garage that understands them — like Glenrands.
They’ve been a big part of keeping mine in top condition. Regular inspections, fluid flushes, diagnostics. They catch things early and make recommendations on fixing it now, or "it can wait until you get back" And they understand that when I say I’m heading off for 3,000 miles through Spain, the vehicle needs to be ready.
The Payoff
The payoff for all this effort? Freedom.
Freedom to travel. To drive for hours without fatigue. To tackle trails without worry. To camp off-grid knowing that the truck will start in the morning. To explore Spain and Portugal with confidence, not crossed fingers.
Would I recommend an L322 to someone else? Absolutely. But only if they’re willing to treat it with the respect it deserves. This isn’t a disposable vehicle. It’s not a weekend toy. It’s a serious machine, capable of serious travel — if you meet it halfway.
So yes, I live with a 14-year-old Range Rover. And I love it.
Not because it’s perfect. But because I’ve made it mine.
Because it’s earned its place.
Because when I’m halfway up a misty trail in the Spanish mountains, hot coffee in hand, RTT open, and the silence of the forest settling in, there’s nothing else I’d rather be driving.
And isn’t that the whole point?
