I make myself as comfortable as I’m likely to be. I’m holding the steering wheel at a similar height as a plate at a buffet, I hit the drive button on the floor and start to pull away.
There’s an audible whirr at low speeds that disappears once you’re rolling more convincingly. I think it’s there to warn bystanders of your presence around town, but they all see it coming and know precisely what it is anyway.
“Moke!” goes the shout, from the young, the elderly, the inbetween. Curious how a car that wasn’t a big hitter even in its heyday remains so well known.
Is it a looker? I’m not sure it ever was. But the proportions are similar enough to the original’s and there’s such familiarity about it, like a series Land Rover or an original Mini, that it’s hard to really know whether it’s actually attractive or not. It’s certainly reassuring. And well liked. If we all drove one of these I contend road rage wouldn’t exist.
We would have a decent time of it too. The steering is 2.75 turns lock to lock and unassisted, pedal weights are good (there are different drive modes but, honestly, there’s not much in it) and the brakes are also unassisted and without ABS: there are discs at the front, drums at the rear, but given the top speed is 50mph, a Rimac Nevera this is not.
The tyres are Davanti 165/65 R13s, springs are coils all around and the ride is fine, you know.
One would imagine the big roll-cage stiffens up the torsional rigidity nicely, and it would be pretty flexy without it, but it rolls with amiable absorbance and just a little bounce here and there to keep you alive.
The steering is direct, accurate and there’s a general karty kind of feel to driving the Moke that I like a great deal.
