Kingsley KSR Range Rover review: the ultimate 4x4 restomod?

Have you got a royal regatta at seven and protection money collection at eight?

That’s the genius of the Range Rover isn’t it? You could be up to no good running for the border, or you could own everything within the border. You could be a sheep farmer, or an aura farmer. It’s that inherent ‘do you know who I am?’ which has built the Range Rover badge into one of the car world’s most desirable brands since 1970.

So it’s no surprise that like other enduring icons, it’s joined the likes of the Porsche 911, Mini Cooper and Jaguar E-Type in being repeatedly restomodded. And this might just be our favourite ever. Welcome to the Kingsley KSR.

Who's Kingsley?

Based in deepest Oxfordshire (they like a Range Rover or two around those parts) Kingsley has been dabbling with restoring and rebooting Range Rovers for over two decades. And this isn’t one of those ‘we will quilt anything you send to us’ outfits. It specialises in Range Rovers. It’s only recently that it's branched out into those new-fangled old Defenders.

As usual in the restomods-reimagined world, what flavour of treatment yours undergoes is a question of budget and taste. The ‘S’ in ‘KSR’ stands for ‘Superior’, because this is Kingsley’s top model, now yours for a cool £280,000. Plus tax.

What’s the spec of this car?

This particular KSR is based on the four-door Range Rover Classic shell, which originated back in 1981. Before that, the first decade of Rangekind were all two-door cars, because it made the shell stiffer.

Kingsley will do a makeover on one of those too: there’s the KC Series which is a faithful better-than-new restoration, and the KS Series which is more modernised for everyday use. That’s been popular, so the KSR (available in two or four-door format) is the ultimate evolution of that idea.

Under the clamshell bonnet you’ll find a V8. How much V8 is up to you. This car has the Kingsley ‘High Torque’ 4.6-litre lump, which isn’t really very high-torque in the grand scheme of things. You get 270bhp and 310lb ft, which is less than a Honda Civic Type R, but absolute locomotive performance for a rebuilt Rover V8.

Mindful people will want more, you can spec big guns courtesy of the General: Chevy LS3 or LT1 V8s displacing 6.2 litres are on the options list, if you want to really give that reconditioned chassis something to chew on.

Is it fast enough to embarrass a modern Range Rover Sport?

Only if it’s a plug-in hybrid running in all-electric mode. The KSR is not fast. Boot the throttle and you’re immersed in a deeply satisfying V8 bellow. The car takes on a reclined set as the nose rears up… but you don’t really go any faster. It turns wads of fuel into a fabulous noise, but not a great deal of forward momentum.

Kinglsey reckons you’ll go from 0-60 in 9.8 seconds, which is about as fast as a Dacia Duster Hybrid, except you’ll use more fuel doing it than the Romanian 4x4 sips in a week. But that’s okay. This is a lazy V8. And in our modern world of ultra-efficient electro-boosted highly strung performance, we’ve lost the simple pleasure of a big, untaxed engine.

Adding to the gargling, unstressed character of the V8 is the four-speed automatic gearbox. If you’re used to eight, nine, or even ten forward gears in modern cars as the ECU desperately attempts to quell revs, hearing the Kingsley snarl along using one ratio for a whole county is disconcerting, but my word it’s so driveable.

Squeeze the throttle, summon the noise, and know there’s no kickdown nonsense, no need to squabble with a mode selector. You lope along, chortling at the exhaust note, watching the bonnet quiver as the V8 rumbles and chunters away. It’s a terrifically characterful powertrain.

How does it handle? Does it handle?

Kingsley doesn’t just add a V8 and call it a day. This isn’t a hot rod. The KSR rides on all-new adaptive, fully independent suspension from UK brand TracTive. For us, the adjustable settings are overkill and we’d just stick with the passive set-up, but for an antique 4x4 its road-holding (as opposed to modern stuff like ‘handling') isn’t too alarming.

The small steering wheel adds a frisson of sportiness the car doesn’t really warrant, and it would feel statelier with a big, slender-rimmed steering wheel. But we fired it down some country lanes and the KSR managed fine. The upgraded brakes didn’t snatch a wheel or grumble. The temperatures behaved. The reinforced body was free from creaks. So was the utterly renovated interior.

Ah yes. Tell me about the cabin.

If British Leyland could’ve built cabins like this they’d probably still exist, and would have bought Toyota, General Motors and Tesla by now. While the KSR’s exterior gives few clues this is a revived and rebooted machine, and even the soundtrack will fool most folks, the interior is a different story. The upholstery, well-stuffed and hardy yet welcoming, is a delight. The chunky buttons activating the heater actually have an effect on making the airy cabin warmer or cooler, instead of breaking off in your hands.

There’s more USB ports than an Apple Store, and CarPlay in the central screen. Okay it’s way down low out of your eyeline, but nice to have. It’s actually a fun juxtaposition of modern device integration with the way cars used to be inside, festooned with XXL plastic buttons strewn somewhat randomly about the cabin.

It's so rich in charm. You can spec any leather or tweed you fancy, but the caramel hide, plaid inserts and unglossed wood of the example we tested suited the car’s raffish demeanour to a tee.

Is it worth the money?

The money is enormous. A KSR V8 is £280k + VAT. Spec the LS3 and you’re past £320k… plus VAT. Even a ‘base’ Kingsley KC is £140k before taxes and spending toppy Range Rover money on an antique version that doesn’t handle anything like as astutely and feels frankly too damn nice to off-road is impossible to justify… with your head.

But that’s exactly the same argument that means a 911 Carrera kicks a Porsche 911 Reimagined By Singer for value and usability, right up until you allow your heart into the equation. If you’re not at all bothered by sports cars but have always longed for the quintessential classic Rangie, this is a bedroom wall poster car.