2200-mile European road trip in a Jeep Wrangler

Foibles include the total lack of a footrest in the narrow pedal box; the fact that the metal-effect dip on the driver’s side door handle is already peeling off; the lack of a boot cover (particularly annoying when you’re carting all your clobber from place to place); and, of course, the fact that you have to swing open the wide tailgate before you can fold up the upper glass panel, which makes parking in the medieval parts of various European cities a challenge.

In tight corners you also need to be mindful of snagging the chunky rear arches. Oddment storage could be better, too: there are cupholders but no trays for keys and the like, other than the one directly beneath the armrest cover, so we kept losing bits and bobs.

Positives? This generation of Wrangler steers with actual accuracy, so it doesn’t drain you attritionally during a day in the saddle. It is remarkably car-like for something with a low-range gearing. The lack of over-sensitive ADAS is refreshing.

Climbing up into the Wrangler’s chunky cabin, with its great visibility through the pillbox windscreen, never fails to give you a little dopamine hit. Its Android Auto works nicely. The 2.0-litre four-cylinder petrol engine is far more effective and characterful than I expected, hauling two tonnes of Ohio-built bulk about in pretty effortless fashion.

The gearbox is fine, too: you don’t have to think about it. Less tangibly, the thing has a sense of occasion – something, say, a BMW X5 will never match. Equally, the economy wasn’t terrible (for the entire trip, the brim-to-brim figure was 30.3mpg), and the 81-litre fuel tank means you can make plenty of uninterrupted progress when needed.

As for proper off-roading in Spain, in the end the Wrangler played a supporting role. You need a permit to access the really horrible tracks that take you up into the wildest valleys in León, so this task was undertaken by our guide’s fabulously trusty and surprisingly comfy Land Cruiser (white with a manual ’box, cloth seats and steelies – the bee’s knees, basically).

However, there was no question that our Jeep could have scrambled anywhere the Toyota went, had we needed it to. I’ve experienced the colossal toughness and capability that lurks behind the cartoonish looks first hand, having spent three days in the JL-generation car on the axle-breaking Rubicon Trail in 2018 – still perhaps the most memorable and brilliant thing I’ve done in this job.

Unlike the Land Cruiser, the Wrangler’s driveline can also be put into pure rear-wheel-drive mode for better everyday economy and oversteer on damp switchbacks.

So the Wrangler returns from this 2200-mile jaunt with its Swiss Army knife credentials, if anything, enhanced. Honestly, I was surprised how easy it made the mile-bashing, and even a 10-hour blast home from La Rochelle wasn’t knackering (even if the car’s adaptive cruise control simply will not let you sweep around slower motorway traffic smoothly).