Range Rover P400e Autobiography - long term review

I want to talk to you about plug-in hybrids. I am – OK, was – a sceptic of them, mainly for their weight and complexity. Engineering purity is what floats my boat and these seem to carry too much baggage.

But it’s a question of use, isn’t it? And for how I’ve been using the Range Rover, hybrid suits it down to the ground. This one is leaving in the next month or so, being replaced by a diesel. I’m now fearful of that – not for its range or torque, but for its vibration and noise. Not luxurious. Apart from a bit of cold start rumble the petrol straight six is smooth and hushed – not as smooth and hushed as electric motors, but I often struggle to spot the handover between the two. It delivers an adequate hit of power and torque – enough to overcome the already-discussed, yet still gob-smacking 3,000kg kerbweight.

Now, a niggle. Thus far, this Rangey has been faultless. I hadn’t expected that. My very first touch of it when it arrived back in May didn’t bode well. I went to pull the door open and the plastic painted sheath over the handle came off in my hand. But since then, nothing has gone awry, I’ve relaxed into ownership and it hasn’t missed a beat. Except for this niggle. Lately, it’s been firing up in petrol mode. It doesn’t do it if the engine’s warm, but it used not to do it at all, always starting silently in electric. And I want it to start in electric because it makes me feel better.

The bigger issue is that it then won’t let me switch into electric mode for the first mile or two. I keep pressing the button that switches between Hybrid, EV and Save (which runs the engine more to charge the battery) and it keeps flashing up the same “EV mode temporarily unavailable” warning. It’s frustrating because it’s almost always those first few miles of the journey I want to do in electric – that’s when I’m in built-up areas, leaving home or work or meetings.

The other day I was in Durham, and there was an electric charging point right outside the hotel entrance. Instead of paying £20 for hotel parking round the back I could put the money towards recharging the car out front. We’ll leave aside the fact the Rangey is so long that even backed up to within an inch of the charging post it stuck out into the road and turned the two way street into ‘one-at-a-time-please’.

The following morning, the 7.4Kw charger had filled me up. Ideal. Then the owners of the MG4 and Nissan Leaf that were sandwiching me in turned up. There were looks of mild disapproval. I know why – I’m not a proper EV. I can’t stand that attitude. I wasn’t preventing anyone else from charging – there was another spare bay, but even so I wanted the satisfaction of pulling away in electric. Instead the petrol fired and I, mounted in my lofty luxury perch and already blocking the road, looked to them like the world’s worst person.

As a hybrid it works very well, it feels like the luxury choice and makes all the right noises to people (apart from Leaf owners) about reducing CO2 emissions and doing the right thing. But financially that doesn’t pan out. In terms of fuel consumption this is a heavyweight. It averages under 1.5mpkWh in electric and when that runs out, does about 25mpg on petrol. And while the trip computer may suggest an average of 79mpg, as it did on my last tank of fuel, factor in the cost of adding 153kWh (£58.23) and you end up at the equivalent of 33.8mpg.

It's best not to look too closely at the figures, that’s what I’ve realised. Just enjoy the Range Rover PHEV for what it does and how it makes you feel. Because the cabin is a joy, the seats are terrific, it’s a cocoon of calm. I get into it after a long day and find myself sighing with relief, knowing the journey home is done already. This is a car that’s enormously fit for purpose. Yes, I’ve had a pop at the ride quality recently, but it remains a truism that despite the concerted efforts of rivals, there’s still nothing that hits the spot quite like the Range Rover.

It remains the OG SUV, but that class is now a very broad church, with the Range Rover almost an outlier on the comfort fringe, making it the polar opposite of another SUV I’ve driven recently. The Ferrari Purosangue isn’t really an SUV or an off-roader at all. It’s a GTC4Lusso with a lift kit. And, you know what? There’s nothing wrong with that. I thought it was brilliant at what it did, but you just know it’s as fickle as fashion. If the wind changes, Ferrari will shift with it, find another niche. The Range Rover will just continue, doing what it does, and be casually brilliant at it. And let’s face it compared to the £313,000 Ferrari, a £137,000 Range Rover almost looks good value.