I've always disliked SUVs; unnecessarily heavy, unwieldy, lumpen to drive and driven by people who use their bulk to make up for a lack of confidence and those who coccoon Tarqin and Jessica in two tonnes of steel believing the best way to protect their little darlings is to wheeze around in a car capable of flattening everyone elses; 'k you Jack, I'm alright.
But just the other week, whilst loading up the Golf for the umpteenth time with all the usual accoutrements of parenthood, I had an epiphany. As I perfomed the hernia-inducing gymnastics necessary to shoe-horn a two year old into a Britax and facing the realisation I had again forgotten how to collapse the ludicrously complex pushchair mechanism (I'm now on my third. Spend as much as you like, they're all bl**dy useless) I caught a glimpse of a family loading a similar amount of kit and kids into a RR Sport. No such red-faced, nerve-shattering antics over there; this lot were irritatingly breezy. With no evidence of an army of nannies, I concluded it must have something to do with their choice of car. No need to fold the infernal pushchair, just chuck the d*mned thing in the boot. No contortionist acts either, pick up little Joshua and bung him joyously in to a car that looks like one of his toys.
In the coming days, I found myself warming to the evils of the 4x4. Loads of space, no bending-lifting-huffing-explaining away colourful expressions to impressionable young minds. All of a sudden I'm exchanging friendly glances with RAV 4's and letting X-Trails out of junctions........I had to try one.
So I did, this weekend saw the opening of a Chrysler garage a couple of miles up the road. If I'm having a truck, it has to look like a Tonka-toy (this way, eco-types can scowl as much as they like, I'm six years old again) and I'm thinking the the Americans should be able to provide plenty of the no-nonsense, rugged factor.
I wasn't disappointed. That six-year-old in me made a bee-line for the Dodge Nitro. Looks-wise, absolutely perfect but it's huge; Audi Q7 huge and on 20" rims. No, my move to the dark side has to come with at least a modicum of conscience. I'd need something smaller ...... cue the Jeep Patriot.
Chunky looks, enough space for the job and with the offer of 42mpg from its VW derv it seemed perfect. Time to take the keys ....
This I was certain would burst the bubble and bring me back down to earth. The vomit-inducing body roll, public sector performance and American build quality would have me back in the real world, and "proper" cars, in no time.
Er, nope. The handling was surprisingly taught with the torquey 140PS motor and snickety gearbox combining to make progress sprightly without ever going below 35mpg. The motor is clattery at low speeds but when you're in a truck it's, dare I say it, almost charming, feeling rugged and outdoorsy. This was proving enjoyable to drive and providing a feelgood factor totally at odds with Eurobox Golfism.
Visibility was fantastic and the raised driving position a joy. Getting the kids in an out was a breeze and who cares about the muddy shoes, the only soft thing in here are the seats, and they wipe clean. Best of all though was the boot, not cavernous but more than happy to accept the pushchair in whatever state I managed to tangle it.
After years (and numerous posts on here) lodged firmly in the anti-SUV camp, I absolutely and unashamedly loved it. So the next time you're tempted to frown at Mr. Freelander consider his motivation: He's probably just had enough of pushchairs and backache. If you want to someone to blame for killing all the Polar Bears, write a strongly worded letter to the CEO of Mammas and Papas.
In the meantime, I'm gittin' mah-self a Jeep.
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"Forward", he cried, from the rear, and the front rank died.
And the General sat, and the lines on the map moved from side to side.
