The scheduling gods have a sense of irony, it seems. How else to describe Land Rover’s most thunderous Defender arriving on my driveway in a week where gas prices threaten to challenge historic highs across the U.S., and — regardless of politician verbiage — show every sign of rising further?

Launched in 2025, the Defender Octa eclipses the already-potent Defender V8 with a 4.4-liter twin-turbocharged engine kicking out 626 horsepower and 553 lb-ft of torque. Sure, it’s a BMW drivetrain, but the overall package is resolutely Land Rover: big tires, off-road-ready air suspension, and a plurality of away-from-asphalt drive modes, all dressed up in a widened body and (in this particular case) a matte bronze paint job. Oh, and it’ll do 0-60 mph in 3.8 seconds, Land Rover crows.

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It’s also greedy, a factor which stood out more during my time with the Octa than it might ordinarily. Atop the $159,925 (including $1,625 destination) you’ll pay for a 2026 example, there’s fuel to take into account.

The most powerful Defender ever made isn’t, weirdly enough, the thirstiest in the current line-up. Its twin-turbo V8 is rated for 15 mpg in the city, 19 mpg on the highway, and 17 mpg combined; the Defender V8 — with a supercharged 5.0-liter good for 518 horses and a laggardly 5.1 second 0-60 time — gets 16 mpg combined.

Neither will be accused of frugality. Nor does testing out Land Rover’s acceleration claims make a positive contribution to economy. Driven with a little care, I saw 15 mpg on the trip computer. Expect single digits if you thumb the Octa button dangling from the steering wheel — a quick press for the most potent on-road settings, a long one for off-road hilarity — and hurl this big SUV as the automaker intended.

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Setting aside any thoughts regarding the current price of a barrel of oil (north of $111 apiece, as I write this), I leaned into the gas pedal and grinned broadly at the shouty V8 and snorting exhausts. Both have volume, though I’d argue the Octa brand could easily shoulder more. This is, after all, an SUV which bakes subwoofers into its “Body and Soul” seats, so that even the most sedate of song is applied to your spine with the finesse of a lump hammer.

Aiming the Defender Octa at some of my favorite backroads, while the seat assaulted me and the V8 gulped down gas, fun was undoubtedly had. Ridiculous duality has been the name of the game for silly SUVs for some time, now; the biggest surprise with the Octa was that Land Rover had waited quite so long before following Mercedes AMG, BMW M, and others into the segment. If this particular Defender stands out of that six-figure crowd, it’s because — these optional 22-inch wheels aside — it has the regular truck’s well-respected off-road abilities in its back pocket.

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For a verdict there, I defer to my colleague Emme Hall, who has undoubtedly forgotten more about off-roading than I have ever known. Spoiler: potentially jaunt-ending air springs aside, she rates the Octa highly for Baja-style blasting.

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All the same, perhaps it’s time for more of us to reflect on what fun we take from excess. The Defender Octa is glorious, as a brash and unnecessary expression of giddying ridiculousness. It is fast in a straight line, hunkering down and roaring at the horizon, then plump in corners, demanding a point-and-squirt-then-frantically-slow driving style that certainly scores for whimsy and making the most of the V8 and tailpipe duet, even if it won’t set lap records.

The same week it spent on my driveway, mind, I had at the very least equal driving fun in a three-decade-old Japanese kei car with an engine less than a sixth the size of that under the Land Rover’s hood. Yes, the kei only had seating for two, and no, it wouldn’t be my pick for a Costco run. Perhaps they equal out on general reliability? (Sorry, Land Rover, but some reputations die hard.)

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While we all have a responsibility to consider our carbon footprint, I also can’t help but recall that some feet are bigger than others. Any frustration at the gas pump about the Defender Octa’s thirst lands primarily as a financial headache. What comes out of its shouty tailpipes undoubtedly pales compared to the ecological impact of a cargo ship chugging “cheap” goods to the U.S.; what percentage of my climate guilt can I shrug off, if I swap my impulse shopping in favor of a leaden right foot on the Land Rover’s accelerator?

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Look, I get it: people don’t like being told they can’t have something. Especially if that “something” is a V8 engine, and the power (and soundtrack, and thirst) that comes with it. And I do like the Defender Octa, despite — or maybe, perversely, because of — its imperfections. Part of that is because I just like the Defender generally; part because in this wilder form it has an undeniable charm.

Charm, though, is subjective. There are more ways than one to scratch an itch for something special. I like the smooth, hushed potency of an EV, too, and the wring-it-out enthusiasm of a Miata. You could buy both for the $160k this scantly-optioned Octa commands, and have enough left over for a base-spec Defender to throw at your pick of muddy backroads.

Gas prices will undoubtedly trickle back downward in time, having caused — equally-undoubtedly — most hardship and pain to regular, everyday people. Those people probably aren’t driving 626 horsepower Land Rovers, but there’s a strong possibility that whatever’s on their driveway has some thirsty engine under the hood. America’s love affair with the V8 shows little sign of dimming. And again, I get it, even if this was a German engine in a British SUV.

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Emme’s conclusion, after her off-road Octa blast, was that it’s a crying shame most owners probably won’t put this feistiest of Defenders through its paces in the territory it’s built for. I’m not going to say you shouldn’t buy this very silly SUV: like I said, it’s not as if Land Rover is alone in this particular segment, just like Land Rover owners won’t be alone in wincing next time they pump a tankful of premium.

Still, there’s no harm in thinking more about what you really want from a vehicle, and the compromises that come along with it. Regardless of whether it’s wild gas prices that prompts that, or a willingness to acknowledge that these days, displacement isn’t the only route to desirability.