The Freelander's a fairly neat shape, not a great deal bigger outside than the old model (10mm in length and 30mm in width), but more mature, and there’s no three-door now.
Inside, it’s much more cleanly designed than the old model, and there’s a great ambience. There are two chrome-surrounded dials and a sensible array of classy, soft-touch plastic and faux-metal rotary dials.
Perceived quality has taken a major hike. But tapping a few surfaces and pulling at a few switches raises doubts. Some of the plastics seem brittle, the optional wood is nasty, some of the minor switches wobble, and the door pulls seem made specifically to break long fingernails.
This is a shame, because these minor irritations spoil the good details, of which there are plenty. The beautifully damped Terrain Response switch, the huge door pockets and glovebox, the pad to steady a hand that’s working the touch-screen sat-nav – for every bad point, there’s a good one.
The new Freelander’s also still not quite big enough on the inside. Taken in isolation, interior space is fine. Headroom is excellent and front legroom feels good too. But the front seats can’t be set low enough for some drivers, and our knees were frequently banging against the centre console.
And although there’s room for two adults to get comfortable in the back, there is less knee room than in both the Honda CR-V and the BMW X3.
Still, neither the X3 nor CR-V have a full-size spare wheel. And we like a car to have a full-size spare – especially an off-roader whose tyres are at greater risk.
We’re also keen on the Freelander’s driving position. Narrow A-pillars, flat sides to the bodywork, a large glass area and a bonnet that’s visible to its end make it easier to thread the car off-road and in town. The Freelander might be 4500mm long and 1910mm wide (2180mm including mirrors), but it’s easier to park than plenty of family hatchbacks.
