What comes to mind when you think of ‘Rover’? As a child growing up in the Nineties, the marque had something of a split personality to me. The cars of the day were worthy, competent but extremely dull, with an image problem not helping their case. That competence was derived from their Honda-based underpinnings, which brought a level of quality and modern production practices night and day above the bad old British Leyland days.
My mum had an ‘R3’ 214Si, a smart-looking small hatchback whose modern appearance was aided considerably by a set of aftermarket alloy wheels (well, this was the 1990s). The cabin let the side down drastically, through, being dated in appearance, questionable in terms of fixings and fittings, and almost entirely bereft of rear-seat accommodation.
These models were in stark contrast to Rover’s halcyon days of the 1950s and ‘60s, cars like the P5B and P6 combining traditional Rover virtues of good taste, strong craftsmanship and hushed refinement with forward-thinking mechanical technologies, especially in the case of the P6. Before the dark days of BL, Rovers were classier than Jaguars.
When BMW took control of Rover in 1994 and tasked the company’s designers and engineers with coming up with a brand-new mid-sized saloon, it was exactly those wood- and leather-lined saloons to which they looked for inspiration. The result was the 75, unveiled to the world at the 1998 NEC Motor Show.
Handsome, regal and a definite cut above the likes of the Mondeo and Vectra, the 75 made a big impact on the motoring press, even impressing a young Jeremy Clarkson. Rover wanted to show the world that it could still make world-beating saloon cars, that the days of rolling out badge-engineered Hondas were truly behind them.
There was a problem, though. And in a most paradoxical way, it concerned arguably the 75’s greatest asset - its styling. Put simply, the young, thrusting junior executives Rover was trying to court with the 75 would much rather be seen in a big-wheeled sporty BMW, or a sleekly teutonic Audi. Rover still very much had an image problem at that time, and a wood-trimmed dashboard, oatmeal-hued leather seats and a Roger Whittaker cassette in the stereo didn’t appeal that much. In looking backwards to a long-forgotten era, Rover took a massive gamble, and it didn’t entirely pay off.
And yet… I like the 75. A lot. Probably more than I should, being only 30 years old. In modern Britain, roads clogged with traffic and road rage never far from a driver's mind, the calm, hushed gentility of a smooth-riding Rover 75 would do much to lower the heartbeat and make driving an altogether more pleasurable experience. Sure, we all dream of Ferraris and Porsches, but today’s congested roads are simply not conducive to enjoying their vast capabilities.
The best bit? They’re currently dirt cheap, plentiful and a surefire future classic, with prices only going to go one way. I want one, albeit preferably one with something decent on the stereo.
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