I found my Series III SWB Rover in the British Pacific classifieds over three years ago and bought it out of LA shortly after. It replaced a Defender 90 which had been a very capable vehicle and a great travel companion. It’s hard to pinpoint what exactly compelled the change so I’ll just say - it wasn’t a Series Rover.

The first Land Rover I ever rode in was a Series III 109 in Kenya at age 15. After that experience it took less then a year for my family to purchase our Series IIA SWB as a do it all farm vehicle. We found it in a swarm of mosquitoes outside Timmin’s, Ontario (Canada) and had a near death experience ignoring the U-haul dollies speed rating towing it home (there are photos of the old girl in the Series section). These were the Rovers responsible for my love for these slow old machines.

My Series III, Eore, was initially referred to as the Shed. My first real trip in the old pile was to drive from San Diego to Red River New Mexico for a Land Rover Rally. My friend Moe made the trip from Colorado in his D90 hard top and from Red River we headed south across the Mexican border to visit the Copper Canyon area of Chihuahua. This was my second trip to this amazing network of canyons (the first time in the D90 with my brother) and it was well worth the effort.

Eore behaved without fault until I left Moe after crossing the Mexican border and headed west across Arizona. By this stage of the trip he had proved he was capable of carrying heavy loads over long distances involving difficult terrain – albeit in his slow and ponderous way. Furthermore, the ground rules for the driver/rover relationship were made clear. We faced life on the road together. If he suffered in the heat - I suffered in the heat. If his transmission bearings suffered from lack of oil the whine would reach decibel levels at which I’d suffer – and so we suffer along together.

On this particular return trip it was necessary to stop every hundred miles in the 100 plus degree heat. I’d top up the tranny and drain the oil it had dumped into the transfer case (this same seal failed on a return trip from Colorado). I’d then top up the radiator to replace what was leaking out of the water pump drain hole. At one point, sweating profusely and stinking of 90 weight and coolant, my enthusiasm started to waiver (as ones might). I crested a hill and rode the highway down into a large valley of cactus and red rock. Halfway to the valleys floor I met a rain cloud on its way up losing its moisture in patches of showers. With the door tops off the rain soaked my clothing aided by the spray of a 14 wheeler passing by. It was a perfect moment. The refreshing rain and that incredible smell the desert releases as its flora absorbs moisture…… Only in a Series Land Rover.

Once home I began stage two of my ongoing rolling restoration. The transmission came out for the first of six such operations. I rebuilt the steering box, changed the water pump, drove it, changed out the steering relay, drove it, changed the motor, drove it, changed the leaf springs for parabolics, drove it, discarded the Rochester urnal for a Weber 1 barrel etc. etc. etc. I started throwing old newspapers in the back at one point with the aim of recycling them when the Rover ran again. The pile got bigger and bigger and was soon augmented with numerous cardboard boxes labeled Britpac and Rovers North – the Shed.

Eore became the Rovers proper name shortly after my trip to Colorado in August of 1999. Since the trip I’d been able to keep the Rover on the road with interruptions of two or three days at the most. By this time the Turner motor was in and my old leaf springs with 1 inch bump stop clearance were replaced with Parabolic units. I figured with the shiny new raised air intake a female name was out of the question. The old bugger he-hahs when the springs flex and I’ve had a life long affinity for donkeys. Eore’s character in the Pooh cartoons is slow, ponderous, and reluctant just like the old pile. Also, off-road it bucks and snorts over uneven terrain etc. etc. etc. Eore it is.

So, if you ever see an old blue Series Rover with Eore painted on the back door I’ll be the one fighting the slop in the steering at a cruise of 45 mph with a big smile on my face – be sure and wave. We like deserted dirt tracks the best but our favorite highways criss cross the deserts (which of course we always cross at the height of the summer heat). Don’t take any offense if I don’t wave back. It’s safe to assume I am hallucinating bikini’s dancing on the heat waves due to a combination of heat exhaustion, dehydration, and the pot smoke trailing passing Volkswagen micro buses…… Only in a Series Rover.

April 12, 2000