The dog days of the COVID-19 pandemic had many of us scouring the internet for the perfect self-contained adventure vehicle. For me, it had to be a 60 or 70 series Toyota Land Cruiser. The timeless styling, Toyota reliability, and 4x4 capabilities were exactly what I had in mind to explore New England.
After months of Land Cruiser research, a close friend introduced me to Brook Lane. A lawyer by trade with a crippling Land Rover addiction, Brook and I quickly became friends, bonding over classic 4x4s. Soon, my sensible Toyota dreams started to fade.
Brook had exactly what I didn’t know I needed: a three-door, 300TDI Defender 110 from Spain. "Very bare bones," he warned. Perfect for my primitive application.
When the truck arrived in the U.S., I gathered my group of “sensible consultants” and headed to Portsmouth, NH, to check it out at Anarchy Automotive.
Code-name: Nigel. No carpet, no insulation, no radio—just raw adventure. A quick look confirmed the fluids were at operable levels (as indicated by the damp tarmac below). Mechanically solid, the truck started right up with a turn of the key. I was already impressed.
We set off… slowly. That short test drive is etched in my memory—pure happiness. Not only was this the first Defender I had ever driven, but it was also the first time I had ever been in one on the road. It was everything I wanted in a no-frills adventure mobile. It became clear: Nigel was coming home with me.
After a surprisingly smooth experience sorting out import paperwork and registration, my friend Jimmy (driving his Disco 2 at the time) and I made the trip back up to New Hampshire to collect my new-to-me Defender.
Once the car was mine, I started chasing its story. Brook had mentioned that it was previously owned by a hot air balloon company in Spain. Intrigued, I dug through some old photos that came with the truck and managed to track down the previous owners via Instagram.
Turns out, Nigel once belonged to Gloobo (https://www.gloobo.es/), a hot air balloon tour operation in southern Spain. They used the 110 to collect landed balloons and passengers across the countryside. Their livery was incredible (see below). We’re still in touch to this day. In fact, it’s probably time for me to visit them for a balloon ride…
The first order of business after picking up Nigel? Zip-tying the license plate to the chassis (for legal reasons, the truck was both registered and insured…). With surfboards in the back, we pointed north for early summer waves in Maine—our first proper journey together.
On the highway, the 110 isn’t exactly at home, but it wasn’t as sketchy as I had anticipated. The powertrain handled 60-65 mph just fine. Yes, it was loud, but not unbearable. I wouldn’t take it cross-country, but for New England? Perfectly suitable.
Somewhere between Massachusetts and Maine, I felt it—that immediate sense of belonging in the driver’s seat. I wished the truck could talk, to tell me about the life it had lived since rolling off the line in 1995. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
That first Maine surf trip went exactly as planned: all fun, no stress. Other than sweaty palms when passing law enforcement, the drive was uneventful—a theme that continued.
For two years, Nigel was shockingly reliable. Other than routine oil changes and some unpredictable turn signal issues, I had zero problems. Nearly 10,000 kilometers of completely stress-free driving across New England. Not what I expected from a near-30-year-old Rover.
Everyone warned me: “It’ll always be broken.” “You’ll constantly be in the shop.” “You’ll always need a rescue.” But for those first years, Nigel defied the odds.
I decided to install a 270-degree sun awning for long summer days at the beach—my first ‘cool modification.’ Since then, Nigel has gotten: new steering arms and bushings, U-joints all around, a starter, motor mounts and trans mounts, a tensioner, a completely new cooling system, and a windshield.
I had officially been indoctrinated into the Land Rover community. When it rains, it pours.
Since owning Nigel, I’ve taken him all over New England—Cape Cod, Nantucket, Martha’s Vineyard, Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, and beyond. He’s been to Stowe closing weekend, Vineyard Series events, and countless impromptu adventures.
But the real takeaway? The community.
The people who own and maintain these trucks are what make this experience so special. The Vineyard Series events are the perfect example. A few times a year, the Rover community gathers to trade stories, swap advice (and sometimes parts), and share in the joy of keeping these machines alive.
Since buying Nigel, I’ve convinced several close friends—and plenty of internet friends—to take the plunge and buy old Rovers themselves. There’s something about Land Rover People—they’re different. More than owners, they’re stewards, keeping their vehicles alive for generations to come.
Brook said it best: “Land Rovers never die; their parts live on in others, keeping their spirit alive.” That’s why I love this truck. And that’s why the Land Rover community is so special.