Back Behind the Wheel of the Grenadier
The Grenadier, to some, with its full box-section ladder-frame chassis, solid axles, coil suspension, permanent four-wheel drive and gloriously unapologetic six-cylinder engines, might seem like a nod to the past. A slice of nostalgia from the days before technology and safety systems started bleeping at you for blinking too enthusiastically.
Those people are perfectly happy with independent suspension, downsized four-pots and a forest of electronic assistance. And that’s fair enough — we’re a broad church with very different needs and expectations.
For my needs, however, the Grenadier is just about spot on.
Yes, it can feel a bit unwieldy at times, and the steering isn’t what you’d call delicate (though the 2026 tweaks have improved matters by all accounts), but it’s honest and predictable. You feel like you’re driving a machine rather than supervising a very clever appliance. I like that. I like to feel involved, not like a passenger who happens to have been trusted with the wheel.
So I count myself rather fortunate that, for the fourth time, I’ve managed to blag — sorry, secure — another go in an INEOS Automotive Grenadier press car. Their fleet is tiny and demand is huge. I know more than a few motoring writers who haven’t even been allowed to sit in one, never mind drive it.
Yorkshire Lanes and Best-Laid Plans
Last year, as you can read here, I organised a day out with INEOS, their PR team, and a handful of fellow writers to tackle some of Yorkshire’s finest green lanes. One of the vehicles that day was finished in Devil’s Red - a colour combination I’ve always thought looks absolutely spot-on, and naturally, I had to borrow it. For journalistic purposes, you understand.
My week began armed with a full tank of diesel and a loosely scribbled week-long itinerary involving lanes, commuting and general pottering, and as is tradition, none of it went remotely to plan.
Other than the aforementioned ‘pottering around’, I did manage to get a whole days worth of ‘laning in.
Starting with a network of lanes just outside Oldham, the first begins with a steep-ish rocky climb complimented with a pair of diagonal ditches - the sort of terrain that immediately sorts the real off-roaders from the soft-road pretenders. Of course, the Grenadier simply walked it.
A hundred yards on, the track tightened and steepened, loose stone shifting under the tyres, before presenting a proper axle-twister near the top. Rear locker engaged, I hopped out for photos - partly for the article, partly because I enjoy standing there thinking, “Yes, this is exactly what this vehicle was built for.”
Harrop Edge was next, an easy run that eventually links to a more technical section that becomes “interesting” when wet. I drove down to the tarmac, turned around, and headed back uphill.
There are a few rock steps at the base, and with the rear locker engaged again, the Grenadier climbed without fuss — though I did need a shunt or two thanks to the turning circle, which can best be described as “agricultural”.
Further up, you get to choose your difficulty level. Naturally, I picked the daftest line possible to achieve the obligatory wheel-in-the-air photo. With both lockers engaged, the Grenadier crawled diagonally through a deep rut with such composure it barely disturbed the scenery.
Lockers and proper geometry. Funny how effective that combination is.
Moors, Motorways and an Unplanned Detour
The next lane was far more relaxed — twisting gently across the moors with spectacular views, especially when framed by a Devil’s Red Grenadier. I’ll say it again: red and black is my favourite colour combo. Black and white cars? Dull. And don’t get me started on primer grey.
Eventually I found myself back on the motorway, heading north on the M6 towards Junction 36 before detouring to a shallow brook crossing near Lupton.
On the motorway the big BMW, 3.0-litre, 6-cylinder lump has more than enough oomph to make life easy - it’s quiet, too, with barely any wind noise.
Water, Brews and Questionable Financial Decisions
After wading through the water without so much as a shrug from the vehicle, I parked up and brewed a coffee, staring at it while mentally calculating which body parts I could realistically sell to fund ownership.
Truth be told, I’ve been smitten for quite a while.
With daylight fading, I squeezed in another short lane that’s not far from Ingleton, including a wide splash through Long Gill - again handled with complete indifference by the Grenadier.
On a separate note, both engines have a maximum wading depth of 800mm - and it’s a raised air intake that’s attached to the wing, not a snorkel, in case you were wondering.
Ending the Day Properly
My final stop, before heading home, was a favourite stretch of coastline overlooking the Irish Sea.
With the sun setting, I parked up, lit the fire pit, made another brew and sat there doing that thing we rarely allow ourselves to do - absolutely nothing. A sunset can either remind you that time is ticking away, or that tomorrow is another chance to get out and make use of it. Preferably in something with solid axles.
Living With the Grenadier
Day-to-day life with a Grenadier is surprisingly easy once you acclimatise to its quirks.
The steering, much discussed, is heavy but reassuring. Once you get used to hustling it (and its Quartermaster sibling) along country lanes they become predictable and, dare I say it, entertaining.
The ignition barrel sits just above your left knee, partially hidden behind the indicator stalk. It’s not the easiest thing to locate, and at night — as it isn’t illuminated — you end up fumbling around trying to find it like you’ve dropped a contact lens.
Rear visibility is, shall we say, limited due to the split doors, spare tyre and ladders. You rely heavily on the door mirrors. Oh, and the rear seats don’t fold flat because the batteries live underneath them — an understandable bit of packaging, even if it does dent ultimate load-lugging flexibility.
But no vehicle is perfect. And despite those foibles, I’d quite happily have one parked outside Muddy Towers, ideally a petrol Trialmaster, in Devil’s Red, of course. So if anyone from INEOS is reading this, I’m open to discussions…
