A couple of months ago I found myself near Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, standing in front of a high-end cheese shop and Range Rover Sports, and an additional 30 or so LR3s. The irony is that these bucks-up mega-consumers -- who would happily nuke a Starbucks if their doppio macchiato isn't steamed just so -- willingly put up with the aggravation of owning a Land Rover product.

How dysfunctional is this relationship? In the 2006 J.D. Power Initial Quality Study (problems per 100 vehicles within 90 days of purchase), Land Rover registered a basement-dwelling 204. Porsche leads the industry with 91. The industry average is 124.

The same goes for J.D. Power's most recent Vehicle Dependability Study, a three-year survey that has Land Rover at the bottom with 438 problems per 100 vehicles. Lexus leads that list with 91; the industry average is 227.

And yet, like an abused spouse, the Land Rover buyer keeps coming back. Land Rover has some of the highest owner retention rates in the industry -- in the prestige SUV segment, almost double the industry average.

Why would people re-enlist for such heartache? Well, it's the difference between consumerism and connoisseurship. Consumerism is a mind-set that requires products to perform with appliance-like reliability -- a transactional, fee-for-service dynamic -- even at the expense of charm or interest. Connoisseurship requires the opposite, preferring charisma over the quiet and everlasting servility of, say, a Honda. Land Rovers are positively lousy with charm, not to mention having the aristocratic, landed-gentry vibe going on. A Range Rover Supercharged with navy upholstery and ivory piping is about the most delicious British thing this side of Colston Bassett Stilton.

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