John Simister: Which classic Land Rover is the best buy?

At this time of the year, Pembrokeshire's large population of old Land Rovers looms larger in the landscape. They are muddier, and are justifying their existence, and their owners' evident enthusiasm, by doing more often what they are meant to do: get over terrain ever more off-limits to mere cars and vans as the weather worsens.

Those are the functioning ones, anyway. Those that are taking a rest, or which have developed a terminal ailment, just look sadder than ever as the algae engulf them, their ill-fitting doors let ever more damp accumulate, their chassis frames crumble. Mud holds a lot of water, and a Land Rover's chassis has a lot of mud traps.

This week I have not seen a single final-edition Land Rover, those commemorative machines produced to mark the end of production. That end was meant to happen in December 2015 just as the two-millionth example was completed, but such was the demand for those run-out models that the line didn't finally stop until February 2016. Over here in Pembrokeshire, though, they have no truck with such glitz. The Land Rovers have jobs to do, usually involving towing something, and most have them have been thus employed for quite a while.

During the brouhaha of production's end, while we were waiting to see what the much-speculated-upon new Defender would look like (nearly two years later, we are still none the wiser), I did a quick count of Land Rovers owned by my friends.

One was the 'Heritage' version of the final-edition cars, pale green with steel wheels and now sold on, having been driven mere tens of (mudless) miles. Another was a V8 inherited from the friend's father, looking good and driving well until an MOT revealed savage rot in the chassis and the front bulkhead. A major and expensive restoration has been under way ever since, as one of those jobs that the local garage in the deep rurality of Suffolk will fit in between others. Which means it may never get finished without, at some point, strong words: never attempt to get a vehicle restored on this basis.

The third was a battered 1985 Ninety, retro-fitted with a Discovery TDI engine, bought to tow a horsebox and enter a charity off-road rally, and ending up a daily driver following the demise of something electronic in this particular friend's mis-bought Skoda Fabia. Its MOT has now run out, a mid-Noughties Mitsubishi L200 has usurped its rugged role and, as I have just seen because it's part of that Pembrokeshire population, it now lies next to a barn where I fear it might return to nature. I could take it on as a project but, to paraphrase that apocryphal Irish saying regarding road directions, I wouldn't start from here if I were me. I have never known a Land Rover with vaguer steering than this one.

That includes a fairly early Series I from 1954, belonging to the Dunsfold Collection and lent to today's Jaguar Land Rover company for journalists to help celebrate the end of the eponymous vehicle's production life. A long-wheelbase (107in back then) example with a pick-up body and a 2.0-litre petrol engine, it ran very smoothly if not very rapidly with just 53bhp on tap, it steered with a well-oiled languidity, and it exuded slab-sided, round-wheel-arched ancientness. It even rode over bumps quite well, helped by that long wheelbase.

On offer were during that celebration event, held on the Scottish island of Islay where Rover's managing director Spencer Wilks had an estate (his brother Maurice came up with the Land Rover idea after studying World War Two Jeeps), were representatives of most Land Rover milestones from that Series I right through to the final special editions. And my favourite was?

You might expect it to have been the punchy, feisty Autobiography, one of the special editions and endowed with a tuned, 148bhp version of the by-then-Ford-based turbodiesel engine. It went very keenly, felt taut underfoot (too taut, actually), and featured leather seats and – shock ­– electric windows. The mechanism for these stole vital space inside the doors, encroaching on shoulder and elbow room and doubtless contributing to the inability of the Defender to remain safety-certified in the modern world. This was a fun Defender, but it seermed to have lost touch with its roots.

So it was that my surprise favourite was a 1987 Ninety turbodiesel soft-top, Land Rover's first turbodiesel and not, at this point, with direct fuel injection. So the engine was smooth, gentle but still torquey enough to do what it needed to do, helped by a five-speed gearbox, and the soft coil springs and positive axle location introduced in 1983 (the orginal Range Rover chassis, effectively) brought a civility and directional accuracy not really evident before.

This Ninety was a delight. It rode rather better than that new Autobiography, and it was authentically basic. If Mrs S and I were to decamp to the rural earthiness, mountainous splendour and coastal delight of Pembrokeshire – and believe me, we've been tempted – a Land Rover just like this one is what I would have to buy.

That said, an ultra-pure Series 1, preferably an 80in one on aesthetic and manoeuvrability grounds, would be an ever-present temptation. Right on cue, as my mind was thus wandering, one such Land Rover snuck into view as we drove though Llanwrda on our way home, parked outside a garage festooned with ancient automotive signage.

Meanwhile, Jaguar Land Rover Classic will of course build you a completely restored example to order. 'Before' and 'after' specimens were on show at the recent Hampton Court Concours of Elegance. If we moved to Pembrokeshire, though, I think the 'before' version would better suit the vibe.