First Drive Review
The original 2006 Land Rover Range Rover Sport was a triumph of chassis tuning over weight, achieving admirable back-road composure despite its nearly three-ton bulk. It was never quite as athletic as a BMW X5 M or Porsche Cayenne, but that didn’t seem to matter much. The Sport quickly became the brand’s bestseller, the plaque clogging the village arteries of Greenwich and Palm Beach. Its appeal seemed rooted less in its dynamics than in its tradition and its flouting of tradition—it was one part old stone manor house and one part Burberry diaper bag.
Sic transit gloria. Drive a 2006 Sport now, and it feels hopelessly out of date; its steering wooden, its interior shabby. Drive the new one, however, and you’ll find that it doesn’t so much triumph over physics as it traipses through a realm where physics don’t apply. It feels like a hot hatch on two-lanes and an M1A1 Abrams tank on two-tracks—despite a 7.1-inch-longer wheelbase.
The key is its structure. The 2014 Sport ditches the LR3/LR4’s steel ladder frame for an aluminum unibody like the one used for the new Range Rover. LR says this cuts about 800 pounds, but we’re dubious. The company made a similar weight-loss claim for the Range Rover, which proved to be optimistic by about 500 pounds on our scales. Still, the vehicle no longer feels like there’s a gorilla clinging to the roof. It seems stiffer and quieter, too, because it is.
The unibody makes the Sport even more at home on the road, with an isolated and controlled ride that obliterates head toss. A new suspension revised from the Range Rover’s muffles rough pavement down to a murmur, and here’s an example where electrically assisted steering helps improve the driving experience, sharpening response and filtering out noise. Handling? Yes, there’s quite a bit: With the active-roll-control system, an optional rear electronic locking differential, and a torque-vectoring unit on uplevel models, the Sport has shocking directional agility. We’d call it gecko-like, but then there’d be two zoological similes in this story.
Two engines, both supercharged, define the model range: a 340-hp, 3.0-liter V-6, which starts at $63,495, and the $79,995 510-hp, 5.0-liter V-8. Both are mated to ZF’s eight-speed automatic. Gear engagement is polished, which is good, because the box does a lot of shuffling to make its improved EPA numbers (2 and 4 mpg combined for the V-8 and V-6 models, respectively). Power from the supercharged 3.0-liter is always available but leaves us longing for the relentless, effortless whomp of the blown 5.0-liter. We expect a mid-four-second 0-to-60 time for that one.
Off-road stats are just as impressive. The Sport offers two all-wheel-drive systems, one with a Torsen center diff (V-6 only) and a more serious one with an electronic center diff and a two-speed transfer case. Standard are aggressive approach, departure, and break-over angles; at least 11 inches of ground clearance; crazy wheel articulation; and enough wading depth to ruin everyone’s afternoon at Six Flags.
Not all the innovation is down where people who like to be seen can’t see it. The interior is awash in leather and piano-black accents—the Sport looks as ritzy inside as the Range Rover. There is also a new power-split-folding third row of seats, which makes for what Land Rover charitably calls a “5+2” passenger configuration; don’t venture back there unless you’re a working gymnast. At least the rear seat puts the Sport among the few SUVs with a rear weight bias.
About the only thing we don’t like is the info/nav system. It’s a version of the one found in other Jag-LR products, where it has always seemed like a work in progress. Apparently not. It’s a user-unfriendly, graphically confusing touch screen that doesn’t belong in a vehicle this polished.
But with its greatly expanded dynamic range, deluxe interior materials, and go-anywhere, do-anything bona fides, the new Sport fully justifies its $2000-to-$5000 price bump. We can’t wait to put it up against the Germans.
