Everybody looks good in a Jeep Wrangler. Your age doesn't matter, your sex doesn't matter. When you're sitting in this car you'll look great. My 17-year old daughter would be drop-dead gorgeous in it, my 72-year old mother would look too cool for words. Even Ghandi or Mother Theresa of Calcutta would cut a dashing swathe in one.
At least that's what I'm hoping as I thunder out along the roads and lanes of central England. I'm hoping the car maketh the man and this balding old bugger approaching 50 looks less . . . well, less like a balding old bugger approaching 50. I'm revelling in narcissistic, self-indulgent imaginings.
Image is what this car is all about, and this year it looks better than it has done since the days of the first CJ models. It still has that big, square stance about it, round headlamps either side of the seven-slot grille, wheel-arches so flared as to be better described as fenders, and an externally mounted spare on the back door. The front bumper still sticks out so far at the front you can sit on it and lean back on the car, and the bonnet is held down with external catches (though you can lock it shut).
In this model, with a hard roof that can be stripped away in three sections, it has a solid and utilitarian air about it on the outside. Inside, that theme continues with trim that looks like it was bolted in by an engineer sporting a Yankees cap and wearing overalls with an oily rag hanging from his back pocket – that's if you turn a blind eye to the satellite navigation, the quality sound system and the heated leather seats.
Wranglers have always tried to achieve this rufty-tufty look, but it's now been achieved better than ever. But beyond that, the figures for this year's model actually make it start to look a bit more attractive as a car for everyday use.
In the past the Wrangler has been as thirsty as hell, but this car, even equipped with a five-speed automatic gearbox, can allegedly wring an average of almost 35 miles from a gallon of diesel. It's still a 2.8-litre CRD engine but it's now meant to be much more economical and cleaner to run.
So there's me in the glare of the midsummer sun; Ray-Bans on, sleeves rolled up, elbow hanging out of the open window. I can use the stick to snick sequentially up or down through the gearbox, but why bother? I'm not trying to squeeze maximum performance out of the car.
What I discover is that it's pretty nippy about town – not particularly quick off the mark but that short wheelbase makes it pretty manoeuvrable through traffic. What I also discover is that despite having traction control, the back of the car is so light that it's relatively easy, even on warm, dry tarmac, to make the back wheels spin as you quickly pull away from a junction.
That lightness around the back end also manifests itself a bit later under heavy breaking. A lorry pulled out without indication in front of me on the motorway – a manoeuvre which required me shedding a bucketful of mph as quickly as possible. There was no major drama, but as the Wrangler's 1.9 tonnes shifted forwards under braking, the back end slid slightly out to the side. All ended up sweetness and light with the lorry driver acknowledging his error and waving an apology to me, but it was a moment to remember.
The thing about the Wrangler is it's not just playing at being an off-roader. It's got a reputation for being 100% the real deal. Solid axles, a low-range transfer box, selectable all-wheel drive, differential locks, they're all here.
Taking a car similar to this one, but shod with proper Michelin knobblies, I took a tour of a wet and slippery off-road driving course involving short but very steep climbs, sharp breakover crests and equally steep drops. I was grinning all the way round.
It took a firm hand to haul the Command-Trac lever into low-range 4WD but once selected there seemed to be nothing beyond the car's capabilities. The automatic box didn't even need locking into first or second gear, it made all the right decisions for me in fully automatic drive mode. It never ran off down the hill with me because it has hill descent control to rein it in without me having to resort to any pedals. The ground clearance, the articulation in the solid axles, and the huge approach, breakover and departure angles on the car took away any danger of grounding at any point. And even crawling up the steep climbs couldn't encourage it to scrabble or slide away with me.
The fun was over all too quickly. I could have stayed there all day, or even moved onto something a bit more demanding.
By now I'm thinking that this could well be the car for me. The kids are away from home so I don't need a big car any more. The alleged fuel economy looks almost reasonable enough to live with. That four-wheel drive system would make light work of the iced roads and deep snowdrifts that we get every year where I live in the Scottish Islands. And of course there are those good looks that'll stop me looking like a balding old etc etc.
But back here in the land of crofting and fishing where things are a bit more Rayburn than Ray-Ban, there are some everyday practicalities to think about.
The boot, for instance. I have a suitcase with more cargo space than the Wrangler. You lift the glass hatch at the back, then swing the shallow door out to the side along with the spare tyre that's mounted on it. You're then faced with a miniscule gap behind the back seats. A tool box and a tow-rope would leave you room for maybe three Co-op grocery bags and a four-pack of Guinness Original.
Then there are those back seats themselves. Comfy though they are with plenty of headroom, adequate kneeroom and cupholders, it takes a slim and nimble youth to get in past the folded front seats without a cacophonic gasping and grunting. Getting out without landing on your face is even more tricky as you twist out through the narrow gap while the trip hazards claw at your toes.
Visibility from the driver's seat is fine out the front but despite moves to increase the acreage of glass the view out the back is heavily encroached on by the rear-seat headrests, the high-level brake light and the curved top of that tail-mounted spare tyre.
Then there's the drive. The engine is relaxed even at motorway speeds despite the car being a boxy windjammer, the gearbox is smooth in automatic or manual and the suspension is firm but fair. But the steering is as vague as the argument for Papal Infallibility. You can sort of get a grip on it when your faith has grown enough, but it's a bit dithery in the early stages.
So, do I like it? Oh God yes, despite its obvious limitations as an everyday car, and I wish I could justify owning one.