As we know, many if not most models of mass-produced cars built in the first part of this century were available in petrol or diesel flavours. It was all about giving folk a choice. Shed is wondering how much choice there's going to be twenty years time when everything is electric, with no decisions to be made on fuel, aspiration type, number and format of cylinders etc. Will we still be willing to pay huge premiums for big-name cars when they're all going to be pretty much the same under the skin? Will buying decisions boil down to nothing more than the amount of luxury and kit on offer? Will brands become irrelevant? Hmm.
Anyway, forget all that, looking back not forward is what Shed prefers to do as there's more money in it. With that in mind, and thinking of all the various engine options on offer over the last thirty years which is SOTW's main chronological stomping ground, accidental mis-description of a particular model in an ad can easily happen.
Take this week's shed, which is being advertised as a Jeep Cherokee Sport CRD 2.5 diesel when it's actually a Cherokee Sport 3.7 petrol. An innocent mistake, no doubt, although in Shed's experience, getting this sort of thing 'wrong' isn't necessarily a problem. It all depends on what you believe your market might want. If you think that the customers round your way are after fuel economy, accidentally advertising a large-engined petrol-guzzler as a diesel could be a good way of shifting it. All you need is plausible deniability, which is easy enough if you look stupid. Shed has sold quite a few cars in this way to local customers, salving his guilty conscience by a clever plan of full disclosure. He knows that when he starts droning on about bore and stroke, all the ancient prospects in the village will glaze over and then bend over, especially the postmistress, albeit in a less metaphorical way.
For most PH types, finding out that a small diesel is actually a big petrol would be seen as a win, so this week's shed could be just the ticket. Sitting in the plump driver's seat with the engine running you'd think it would be hard for even the daftest forecourt operative not to notice the difference between a diesel Cherokee Sport and a petrol one. If they're a bit mutton, the '3.7' on the back and the tacho redline of 6,000rpm should tell them that this was definitely not an American diesel.
Running a Jeep 3.7-litre petrol out to 6,000rpm would require extreme bravery as well as cloth ears. Our example was banged together in 2001, the first year that the PowerTech V6 was on the Jeep menu alongside the non-Sporty Cherokee's trusty-ish 4.0 straight six. The new V6 didn't really add a lot of engineering sophistication or, to be blunt, anything much. Technically it wheezed out 208hp at 5,200rpm compared to the 4.0 Cherokee Limited's lower but more accessible 181hp at 4,600rpm. The V6's 230lb ft torque peak didn't arrive until 3,800rpm, whereas the 4.0's max torque of 225lb ft came in 800rpm earlier. The 4-speed auto would supposedly grind the 3.7 through the 0-60 in a grizzled whisker under ten seconds, but Shed doesn't recall anyone ever having the patience or lack of mechanical sympathy to establish its top speed.
The 2.5 TD diesel Cherokee of 2001 was quite a bit down on power compared to the Jeep petrols at 141hp, but it had more torque - 253lb ft - and that maximum was delivered at just 2,000rpm. The diesel also had an official combined fuel consumption of over 30mpg, making it a lot more sensible for towcar use than the 3.7, whose cruising mpg was 20, with 15mpg or less being nearer the mark in town. Luckily the fuel computer readout was on a panel above the screen so you could ignore it and pretend the single-figure numbers on steep hills weren't really happening. Talking of screens, the rear one would pop open on a light pull of the tailgate lever, not so good if you were a Jimmy Hill type and not paying attention.
If you weren't bothered about fuel costs the V6 was a hardy and useful sort of beast with a near-3.5 tonne towing capacity, a fairly compact footprint, and actually pretty remarkable off-road ability. For an insight into how good it was off road, have a gander at this contemporary vid starring the inimitable Ken Gibson, ex motoring editor of The Sun.
As Ken says, the new Sport of 2001 had rack and pinion steering for the first time (whoo!) and a new chassis. It was actually better than all right when it was new, but the petrol engines were old-school thirsty, there wasn't a lot of room inside, and despite Ken's chassis improvements the steering was too light on the tarmac. The V6 also suffered from valve seat failure, usually as a result of excessive engine heat caused by (among other things) poorly designed piston rings. The valve lash adjusters got stuck too and the PCV valve got clogged, but most of these problems were relatively easy and cheap to fix. A 3.7 could run up to 200,000 or even 300,000 miles. There again it might start struggling at 75,000.
Our shed has 115,000 miles to its credit. According to the last MOT in November all four coil springs were corroded. New ones for the back end are generally available for about £45 a go. The fronts are a bit harder to find in the UK. It can be a case of putting an order in and waiting for them to arrive. Other than that the next owner will inherit a non-excessive oil leak from the 'front', which could mean the engine but of course it might also be the diff given that the rear one is the site of another NEOL. All the suspension mounting points were de-rusted and repaired in 2018 at 106,000 miles, so you should be able to put those out of your mind for the foreseeable future.
And then what have you got? A Freelander rival with fully switchable AWD, a decent NCAP crash rating, a dod of character and, as Bob the Binman might say, a good old fashioned big-incher under the bonnet.
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