For Sale: 2002 Mitsubishi Pajero in Katwijk, Netherlands

The joke about the little old lady's car is by now so worn out that you'll stumble across it in nearly every advert. And usually what they mean is a son-in-law who once drove it down to the Costco. But here, ladies and gentlemen, the story actually checks out. Black on white, documented, page 14 of the paperwork mountain: Mrs Helga, born on 24 March 1947. Someone who didn't live through the war herself, but certainly through the rebuilding after it. And who evidently decided at some point that she didn't just want a little runabout, but a four-and-a-half-metre Japanese mountain goat with a V6 under the bonnet. Hats off, Helga. The Mitsubishi Pajero is one of those cars you never quite took seriously and precisely for that reason secretly admire. While Land Rover drivers were dialling the AA at the first muddy puddle, the Pajero ploughed through the Dakar as though it were a Sunday jaunt to the bakery. Seven times they won that rally. Seven times. That's no fluke, that's a statement in steel. The Germans traded on reputation, the Japanese simply got on with it. And the Pajero did it best. This third generation, the Pajero that hit the road from 2000 onwards, was the first with a monocoque body instead of that rock-solid ladder chassis. More comfort, more refinement, and yet still that indestructible character. Under the bonnet here sits the 3.5 V6 GDI, good for 202 bhp. Direct-injected petrol, at a time when most rivals still thought GDI was something you ordered at the local takeaway. A six-cylinder that doesn't shout but rumbles, mated to an automatic that glides you through life as though you were sitting in an armchair on wheels. Right, back to this particular silver Pajero from 2002. And this example really is a time capsule. The service documentation reads like a German civil servant's dream: T�V inspections lined up neatly, each one duly signed off, engine code 6G74 rolling squeaky-clean through every emissions test. Lambda 1.000. For the non-technical among us: that's the mechanical equivalent of a perfectly tuned orchestra. This engine runs exactly as Mitsubishi intended it back in Nagoya. What makes this Pajero so pleasantly usable is the equipment Helga chose. A Webasto S 282 auxiliary heater, so that on an icy January morning you step into a pre-warmed cabin while your neighbour is still cursing away with an ice scraper. Electrically adjustable front seats, cruise control for the long motorway stretches, and an approved immobiliser that keeps the car safe from types with the wrong intentions. Leather upholstery, five seats, and a presence that commands respect everywhere without ever being vulgar. The tyres are Dunlop all-seasons in 255/70 R16, with tread that's virtually new. Which is what you'd expect from a car that went through life so closely watched and cared for. This is no SUV that stood gleaming outside the Waitrose as a status symbol. This is a proper off-roader, with the likeability of an old friend and the reliability of a Swiss pocket watch. And let's be honest: just try finding a Pajero these days that hasn't been run into the ground by three generations of sandpit adventurers. They've grown scarce, these big petrol V6s. The diesels got worked to death, most of the petrol versions vanished off to Africa where they still do their duty faithfully. But this one simply stayed put in Germany, with Helga, who looked after it the way only ladies of a certain calibre can. It's a car for someone who understands that real class doesn't shout. Who'd rather have an indestructible Japanese machine than a fashionable crossover that starts rattling like an old washing machine after five years. A car you can take over the Alps, into the woods, and which sits just as comfortably on the drive of your country house. Helga would like you to look after it just as well as she did. **Special features:** - Mitsubishi Pajero 3.5 V6 GDI, year of manufacture 2002, in silver - Six-cylinder petrol engine with direct injection, 202