Goodbye, old friend
The key felt cold and unfamiliar in my hand, a small, metallic stranger. For nearly twenty years, it had been an extension of my will, the simple brass device that conjured the deep, grumbling heartbeat of the Td5 engine. Now it was just key. Soon, it would open nothing.
In 2006, She was a rebellion in a showroom of conformity. Singapore was already marching towards a gleaming, efficient future, a city of glass and polish. And then there was the Defender 90. It wasn’t a car; it was a statement . A boxy, aluminium bodied, mud-slinging statement of intend. I signed the papers, not just buying a vehicle, but adopting a spirit.
They called her impractical. “Where will you even go?” they asked, gesturing at the map of our small, manicured island. They didn’t understand. Adventure isn’t always a coordinate on a map; sometimes, it’s a state of mind.
Her seats have cradled the giggles of children, men and women, young and old alike!
The rear cargo area, once a den for a Husky who thought she was a co-pilot, is still faintly traced with sandy footprints in the crevices. The smell-a permanent, comforting cocktail of warm oil, old vinyl, and the faint, clean scent of rain that somehow always lingered.
We have explore and visited many interesting places in Malaysia and around the regions. Meeting like minded individuals and sometimes we love our solitude moments too! The countless camping and road trips where she was our sturdy, reliable basecamp, her roof rack laden with gear, her interior a safe haven from sudden tropical downpours. She never failed to start, never refused a challenge. The Td5, with its tractor like torque, was undeniable. It felt eternal.
But in life or rather in Singapore, nothing is eternal. Especially not a diesel engine with ‘commercial’ registration approaching its 20th year. The law is law, a pragmatic, unsentimental equation about emissions, congestion and the Certificate of Entitlement, that twenty year lease on a Singapore existence, is about to expire.
So, I sit here in the driver’s seat for one of the last times. The familiar, upright posture. The large, thin-rimmed steering wheel. The dashboard, a landscape of simple, analogue dials that told the truth, nothing more. I run my hand over the gear knob, its pattern worn smooth by two decades of my palm.
She is not just a vehicle. She is a time capsule. A scrapbook of my life, The first day of school, the first road trip, the quiet contemplative drives, the chaotic, laughter-filled ones. Every scratch on the paint tells a story, every creak from the suspension a memory.
Vang Vieng, Laos- December 2024
The de-registration isn’t just a bureaucratic procedure. It feels like a quiet euthanasia for a beloved old friend. But they can’t crush the memories. They can’t de-register the echo of my children’s laughter bouncing around that aluminium box. They can’t scrap the feeling of freedom on the countless road trips we have been. They can’t erase the steadfast reliability that was my constant companion for half my adult life.
I turn the key one last time. The Td5 rumbles to life, that familiar, percussive diesel clatter filling the space, a sound I feel my bones. It’s a goodbye, a thank you. The engine falls silent. The key comes out. A final, parting gesture. Goodbye old friend. You were more than just a Land Rover. You were the vessel for our best days.
The Defender 90 Td5 is available for sale and export from end of March 2026. One owner since 2006. Complete service history, spare parts and upgraded parts invoices.
