It’s time to leave poor GM alone for a while, and move on to that all-time favorite automotive scapegoat: British cars. We’ve got a couple of CCs lined up today, a reprint of an old Brock Yates look at the British industry, and maybe we’ll squeeze in something else. I wish I had time to do this superb XK-E justice today, but it’s been a hectic (but exciting) week here.
But let’s use this post to reminisce a bit about an industry that has brought us some of the most lust-worthy vehicles ever, as well as some of the all-time greatest stinkers. Here’s an abbreviated overview of some of those highs and lows, and then it’ll be your chance to wax eloquently – or have a PTSD moment – about your Brit car experiences. But let’s look for some nuance too, as it’s all-too easy to fall into easy stereotypes.
I arrived in the US in 1960, which more or less represents the the end of the great British car era in the US. Austin was once the number one import brand, and British cars were quite common in Iowa City then, although most were a bit newer than this 1951 A40 Devon (CC here).
It’s impossible to overstate the mammoth influence of the Jaguar XK-120 in the US. Yes, the little MGs (TD CC here) were of course more affordable, and constituted the heart of the actual import sports car market in terms of sales. But the big Jag was the icon and lust object, and was at the very heart of the huge sports car boom that swept across America in the late forties and early fifties.
By this, I mean the endless home-built “sports cars” that kids across the country were cobbling up from old Ford chassis or whatever was handy, and fabbing their own fiberglass bodies (like this one by eighteen-year old future GM designer Wayne Kady. Or buying one of the many XK-120-inspired fiberglass kits.
This was not the province of the tweedy sports car set, but a huge wave that caught the imagination of Americans of all stripes. And of course, the XK-120 directly led to American production sports cars, like the Kaiser-Darrin, Nash-Healey and the Corvette. A truly seminal car.
Jaguar also utterly dominated the import luxury market during the fifties, with their stately large Marks VII-IX (CC here), as well as their fine mid-sized sporty sedan, the Mark II. Mercedes was still a relatively obscure fringe brand, and BMW was essentially off the radar. How the mighty fall.
My brother bought a rusty and battered MGA (CC here) in about 1967, and I experienced the hair-battering euphoric high of roaring down a rural Maryland road on a summer night with the top down, as well as watching him spend the better part of the summer trying to keep it running, which eventually become a lost cause. My account of that painful story is here.
In the sixties, sales of Brit passenger cars wilted, first from the dominance of the VW Beetle, which was better adapted to American conditions, being designed to tolerate being driven flat out all day long, and then from the Japanese. The British cars, reflecting their origins in the cool climate and narrow roads of England, were just not up to that. Perhaps their last attempt to compete in the economy car class was the Austin America; a brilliant design (ADO16) in principle, and a huge seller back home. But American drivers’ disdain of fussy maintenance and poor dealer support caused it to flame out, and represent the crash of the British passenger car in the US. Jeff Nelson’s somewhat harsh assessment of the America is here.
That left mostly the venerable Brit sports cars to carry on, along with Jaguar’s sedans. Of course there were other ill-fated attempts, like the brilliant Rover 2000 (CC here). But the tried and proven MGs (MGB CC here) and Triumphs became the mainstay of British exports to the US, and they soldiered on well past their sell-by date, on the strength of so much loyalty and charisma. Even I fell to the MGB’s siren lure, but it too did not have a happy ending.
But I know full well that all these cars are actually very accommodating for the enthusiast owner, and they have a huge following. British cars aren’t junk; they have many qualities that make them highly suitable for restoration and ownership. It’s just a matter of getting to know them well, and know how to accommodate (or improve upon) their quirks. My brother went on to have a number of them, and he found them eminently easy to work on.
The XK-E will go down in history as one of the most beautiful and desirable cars ever. Who wouldn’t be willing to put up with a few foibles to own one?
Occasional CC reader Chuck Goolsbee has a superb ’67 E-Type roadster that he bought from his father and spent way too much money on having it rebuilt. But he takes it on long trips regularly, and stopped by our house one recent summer on the way to Southern California with his son, via Hwy 1. Now that’s living the dream.
Of course, his Jag’s cooling system has been massively fortified with a special multi-core radiator, electric fans, and an alternator to power them. A bit of modern technology goes a long way to remedy the shortcomings of what originated in Old Blighty.
The British Car story is a huge one, and we can’t begin to do it justice here, except for a few slices. And we’ll keep coming back to it. But if you have anything to add to our little opener, we’re all ears.
Gorgeous E type,small British cars were probably as unsuitable for America as full size Americans were to Britain.I doubt Americans would have bought Ford Zodiacs or Vauxhall Crestas as they were too similar to the Falcon and Nova.Most of my cars were British not for any patriotic reason but because they were available at the right price.I only ever had one bad car a 75 Sunbeam Rapier which needed to be topped up with electricity as well as fuel!British Leyland made some nasty unreliable cars which tarred a lot of British cars with the same brush.
BMC/British Leyland led the charge to FWD with an awful system that put thousands of loyal customers off the product. Good grief NZ is the Morris Minor capital of the world those things are still common and loved the FWD BMC stuff is much rarer it gave trouble from day 1 people got fed up and bought a Honda
I will admit to, as a young man, a passing infatuation with the MG-B. But I have never owned nor will I own a Britcar.
Having owned a British made International Harvester 484 tractor (see photos on Flickr if you can find them in the new format, but that’s another story…) with it’s Lucas electrical system was experience enough!
When I was 17, one of my older brother’s friends showed up at our house with a TR-6. I wheedled an opportunity to take it a mile or two up the road and back. To this day that experience is fresh in my mind. What a cool car that was, stuffed into that cockpit and looking down that long hood I felt like a Spitfire pilot.
The Brits made a whole lot of less-than-stellar cars, but the ones the got right offer a combination of beauty and soul that no other country has ever equaled.
Mazda did an outstanding job of building a retro Lotus Elan. The original Miata showed how well a reliable version of a classic British sports car could sell. Imagine how well British Leyland products would have sold if they had come anywhere near Japanese build quality.
+1
My 2002 Miata has been bullet-proof from day 1. I remember my electronics professor spending his weekends in the engineering building parking lot, on his back under his Lotus Elan.
I much prefer spending my weekends with the wind in my hair (well, the little bit of hair that remains!).
I have played in one at the dealer but never taken one out on a test drive. I was actually surprised that a guy my size could really fit in the Miata. They are all kinds of cool. Who knows maybe one day…
The Miata gets a really bad rap from people who claim to be “enthusiasts” for being well, kind of a girl car, and thats really unfair, the people who say that have either never driven one, or they really aren’t the “enthusiasts” they claim to be.
I had an M-edition 1994(?) or so burgandy on tan one for a few months as a used car I flipped for profit, I used to love to drop the top and blast it around on curvy roads, if I found another cheap clean one and I had the space, I would add one to my stable.
+10! I’m glad to see you say that about the “girl car” rap. Since I got my ’93 I’ve naturally been watching who else drives Miatas around here and it’s a full cross-section, young/middle-aged/older, male or female.
I think guys who call Miatas a girl car confuse acceleration with performance. About like judging a drink only by how drunk it gets you.
I also note who’s driving VW Cabriolets. That girl-car reputation is justified. 😉
I suspect that the girl-car stigma attached to the Miata may be, ironically, due to the very reliability that Mazda attained with what is essentially a Lotus Elan knock-off. It didn’t help matters that the 2G Miata added what many described as feminine ‘look’ headlights and body curves. Really ironic when one looks at what many consider to be one of the best styled vehicles, ever: the E-type Jaguar.
The reason the real British (or Italian) sports cars never attained girl-car status may have been because there likely weren’t a lot of females who were willing to tolerate the kind of ‘intense’ mechanical involvement that was required with MG, Triumph, Austin Healey, Jaguar, Alfa, or Fiat ownership.
I frequently day dreamed of owning a purple Triumph Stag and working on the make up and perfume counters at Boots as a teenager at school in the early 70s.I later found out the Stag was a POS and being a 6’1″ Amazon who likes to wear her hair up I probably wouldn’t fit in it.
Ha! 🙂
Theres a purple daily driven Stag near me one of 3 locally.
It would be interesting to find out what needed to be done to make it reliable enough to be a daily driver,despite the problems I still think they look great and sound even better
Drop in a Rover V-8. Which supposedly will fit, despite the legends.
If they’d done that in the first place they’d have a winner
It does fit and is not an uncommon conversion, albeit expensive.
Stag fans allege that if you find a ’73 or later model whose original engine hasn’t been abused, you can forestall problems by being religious about 3,000-mile/90-day oil and filter changes, the use of proper antifreeze, and an annual coolant flush. Some people add an electric fan, as well. The trick is to avoid overheating, which can warp the heads; as with the related Triumph slant four, getting the heads off is not easy. (I can imagine an owner’s reaction to being told that his or her overheated engine has warped heads and sheared head bolts…)
Welcome to early British Leyland. Every division was going to keep its own autonomy, and damned if they were going to use some other division’s engine.
Getting the heads off isn’t bad at all, in fact it was designed for easy head removal for a OHC engine. There is a bracket in the timing cover that you use some cam cover bolts to attach the cam sprocket to. You can then unbolt the sprocket from the cam and remove the head w/o pulling the timing cover or having to worry about the tensioner or messing up the timing. So doing a head gasket on a TR7 is easier than doing it on a Datsun L or Toyota R, whether you do it by the book by pulling the timing cover or using the trick of the wedge, tying the chain to the sprocket and supporting it one way or another.
I will resist the temptation of tearing apart a couple of Brit cars owned by my parents in the late sixties (Vauxhall Envoy, and especially the Ford Cortina).
In addition to the usual explanations for the decline of the British car industry that paralleled the rise of the Japanese and German car industries (unions, endless mergers, gov’t ownership/interference, Prince of Darkness, etc.), I think there are other considerations:
– Although Britain ended WW2 on the winning side, they also ended up deeply in debt and subject to years of post-war rationing. There was very little money for upgrading factories and developing new models and improved technologies. Conversely, Germany and Japan had to start essentially from scratch, and by the mid-1960s, were both strong enough to invest in new factories, equipment, and manufacturing techniques.
– Early on, the Japanese car industry made a national commitment to long-term, continuous quality improvement. We all know what effect this had over the decades. And although the Japanese manufacturers are sometimes accused of copying, at least they were not held back by the ‘not invented here’ syndrome.
– In Germany, I believe the widely implemented apprenticeship programs (still strong today) produced a large number of very skilled craftsmen that contributed to the perceived quality of German products. Again I will resist the temptation of listing my endless issues with the BMWs I owned back in the 70s…
When I compared my mom’s 1969 Cortina with my brother’s 1970 Datsun 510, I just knew the tide had turned.
Ive owned and driven many cars from the 60s from both UK and Japan and I’m afaid the much vaunted Japanese quality hadnt reared its head much until the late 70s and body rigidity on 510 datsuns is legendary corrugations at 60mph the car is like a jelly they are rubbish put a few more welds here and there and a bit of tubing to tie em together and they’re ok but from the box just flimsy. Toyotas rusted so fast you’d think they were made in Italy the fake wood sides on Crown wagons was the most durable part so we kept buying Triumphs and Hillmans and those cars are still common today they lasted the contempory Japanese competition is gone nothing but a memory here yet I know of a dozen british cars right in the streets around me.
I appreciate Paul’s point about the allure of British cars to folks who came of age in the 50s-early 60s.
My Dad worked for Mopar dealers for a long time, but has no interest in their products as “fun cars.” When I was in high school he worked endlessly on a Healey 3000, and now he goes on about wanting an RHD MG-Tx. He gets something out of these cars that I just can’t see. I was proud to get the hang of a non-synchro trans as a teenager, though. 🙂
I have to agree that there are many more good British cars than bad ones. The bad ones tend to be that way not due to poor engineering, but usually to poor assembly, cost-cutting on parts, and a lack of quality control (often due to the poor industrial climate of the time in Europe). This is often blamed on the unions, and to be honest, they did get a bit out of hand at times. However, the real context was that the UK was faced with 30% inflation. Thus, if salaries didn’t rise, it was like losing 1/3 of your income year-on-year. Coupled with management who were often out of touch toffs who didn’t really understand business (or more importantly cars) but rather got their positions through the old boys network, there was a recipe for disaster.
My own British car, a 1961 Rover p4, is from the golden era of British engineering and craftsmanship. It has a hand finished interior with solid wood and 1″ thick carpet, alloy body panels, a thick ladder frame similar to a land rover, disc brakes, and the same engine as a landie. The engineering is much more akin to a steam engine pulling a Pullman car than others, and it is fabulous to work on, rusted fasterners excepted. Everything I do, I marvel at the detail and work that went into making systems work- it is all very ingeniously engineered, and built of the highest quality components.
As such, I would compare it to my other (new) car, a 1990 Mercedes 190e. Both had huge sums spent on development, used top quality suppliers, and had strict quality control.
Both companies, as a result of the above, developed strong reputations for quality. Similarly, both forgot how easily lost such a reputation could be. Mercedes in the late ’90s and early 00’s had a reputation for rust and unreliability that was eerily similar to how Rover lost its reputation in the late 60s and early 70s. Both companies tried to maximize profits by reducing quality and focusing on gimmickry.
However, Mercedes had much better labour relations, and their management structure is less incompetent. When they realized that the Chrysler definition of quality was not applicable to a luxury car whose customers expected a 20 year car, they were able to adapt, unlike BL/Rover.
As most of you know I have an English car a 1959 Hillman Minx,its in front line duty while some parking rash is beaten out of the Citroen.
It does this without complaint the carb is stuffed and I’m constantly trying more other than that oh and no third gear on overrun it drives like a modern car lots of modern car pilots get a surprise when I out run them at the lights and the oversized tyres give it roadholding that really surprises people.
Me nar I grew up on tales of the racing Humber80s of the early 60s when a badge engineered Hillman Minx ruled the racetracks and on our fast flowing race tracks could corner faster than Jaguars and Zephyrs and won the inaugural saloon car championship in 1960 that car is still in captivity
I owned these cars before and they were always reliable nothing much went wrong they just wear out or rust out mine has NO rust now and I have newer poweryrain in the wings another car nearby a Singer Gazelle is donating a better interior and fairly soon I should have a presentable car
lovely, Bryce! how ’bout writing a CC about the Minx? would love to read and see more of it!
Please do a write up,they seem to be overlooked cars.
That blue one brings back memories of the ’57 my father brought home one lunchtime in the summer of ’61. Of all the cars he’d bring for me to crawl over, that’s one of the four or five that really stick in my memory.
Blue/white is mine the other one is a early 59 series 3 mines a 3A.
I dare say that the Mini (note: not MINI) in a slightly tuned-up Cooper variant is the most fun on wheels there will ever be! it’s a true sports car in disguise, and anyone who ever pushed one over twisty mountain roads will certainly agree. a 911 won’t give you more thrills and smiles, for sure!
alas, my first and second car was a Mini and yes … unreliable rust-buckets, they were. the first one, quickly after purchase, developed a huge hole under the passenger seat which lead to the very seat partly breaking through the floor after a while, with a big *clonk* – which was the last day it was on the road. and really, I instantly bought another one. besides their “issues”, both cars were immensely practical (seating four, while being the size of today’s “Smart” car – which is a very,very good thing if you have to look for a parking lot in a crowded european city) and sooo much fun.
i certainly will own one again, one day soon (make it a black clubman countryman, with minilite-wheels, please!). but i’ll surely keep my Benz as a DD – one has to have a reliable means to get to your mechanic…
US Hwy 1 is a GREAT sports car road, WHEN it is not clogged with RVs & sightseers. I had a blast driving my ’81 Escort on it; wasn’t such a bad handler once it got proper shocks.
As a recovering Californian (“Hi Pete!”), I must note that while the charms of US 1 are unknown to me, California state highway 1 is a blast in a capable car. (US 101 isn’t bad either, usually several miles inland.) I drove SR1 several times in my ’75 Celica and enjoyed it. It was out of affordable towing range for my ’60 TR3A, so I never had the pleasure. (The ‘3A was my “30 mile car”, because that was the farthest I was willing to have it towed. Actually, it never stranded me, though the small tool and spares kit got me home a few times.)
The TR3A was a blast, and a reliable car considering its era and 25 year age. I would have liked to have a better transmission (it needed replacement of the needle bearings, and the clutch throwout system was a nightmare) but the rest of the car was reasonably solid.
US 1, from Maine to Florida. Not quite as storied as California 1.
Sorry, I meant Pacific Coast Highway. I did get passed once by a fast 2002.
BMC Minis abound here they were the survivors the bigger Issigonises car got the worse they got every time ie Morris Minor/Wolseley 6/80 the little one was great the big one below par the Mini/ 1800 two ends of the spectrum the mini succeeded despite its faults the same faults sank the 1800, Maxi, Princess, Allegro.
Amazingly, I’ve never owned a British car (yet), my life having been spent around British motorcycles. Which has all the foibles of their four-wheeled bretheren, only in a simpler package.
When documenting the failing of the British transportation manufacturing industry (as the cars suffered from the same problems as the motorcycles), two things are often forgotten but are critically important. In the Fifties, when the going was good, profits were channeled to dividends for the stockholders rather than improvement and updating of the manufacturing plants. Then, in the Sixties, British industry caught a fatal strain of the “A good manager doesn’t need to know anything about the product the company is producing. If anything, such knowledge is not conducive to excellent management.” disease.
No, I’m not joking about the latter. Just look up the Lionel Jofeh years at BSA.
Both of these problems, the first in the long term, the second in a much shorter period of time, were disastrous. And a wonderful explanation as to why the motorcycle industry was still producing late 1940’s motorcycles in 1970, and British Leyland had absolutely nothing new ready to come on-line to replace eight year old designs at it’s formation.
The author Len Deighton (Ipcress Files and a lot of other fiction and non-fiction) did several books on WW2 as it effected Britain. He had a telling comment on class distinction that may well apply here.
A poster in a British factory: “Your hard work will help us win the war”. Apparently, the “us” wasn’t terribly inclusive…
Len Deighton is indeed a good read, & often vents his frustration with British class culture. The basic problem (aside from the snobbery you mention) seems to be that the mechanical & practical arts have never been esteemed by Britain’s “Bertie Woosters” who dominate gov’t & business . As an early example, John Harrison, a mechanical genius who invented the first chronometer useful for safe maritime navigation, took years to get the award he qualified for because Oxbridge types disdained his non-analytic solution to the problem of longitude!”
Why do the English ,drink Warm beer?
Because Lucas make the refrigerators.
The three-position Lucas switch: DIM, FLICKER, and OFF.
It’s an old joke, but there’s more than a bit of truth to it. English cars fascinate me, but not enough for me to get one so that the fascination can be replaced by rage.
Only a man who does not know English ale can say that! 😉
And, for their day, Lucas electrics were just as good as anything else available. The bad reputation is twofold: 1. They didn’t bother advancing the technology. If it worked, it was just fine, and would be just fine for the foreseeable future. 2. We conveniently forget that all those vehicles with Lucas electrics in them are, at their newest, 30 years old. Which means they’re worn out. Just like any 30 year old Nippon Denso, etc. component.
I could ignore quirks of the 23+ year old TR3A, but the misdesign (metal cable ties, really?) and the two-circuit electrics of my then 8 year old MGB were less forgivable. OTOH, the fuel pump never died on me, and the bog simple electrics were easy to fix. They just needed a bit more than I wanted to deal with.
FWIW, the overdrive switch on the TR3A was unique. Never quite got the point, but I think it was supposed to have a delay after you switched it. The ’64 MGB actually had some additional circuitry to let the throttle have part of the control. (Been too many years to remember; I think you could blip the throttle to force a disengage.)
I find this topic extremely interesting, despite never having owned an English car. I have told the story before of my Scoutmaster’s 69 Cortina wagon. By 1971, the car was a rolling wreck. The hydraulic clutch leaked, one wiper arm was snapped off. The shifter had snapped off as well, leaving a 1 inch shift lever, which he shifted by clamping a pair of Vice Grip pliers to it. The paint was failing as well. When we needed to take a scouting trip to Chicago, we took his wife’s 66 Dart, which was in great shape.
It’s not like the guy used the car to haul bricks for his day job – he was a biology teacher whose commute was about 4 miles. The poor little thing just couldn’t handle an average American suburban life.
If an appealing little British car made by the Ford Motor Company couldn’t survive duty in the US, this educated me on why English cars became so rare here.
And if you think that story is bad, there’s the little matter of my then-sister’s-boyfriend’s (now brother-in-law’s) Austin Marina. What is it about cheap British sedans losing their shift levers?
My memories of his car has me cackling in glee every time Top Gear drops a piano on one.
Just the same, it would be a great improvement if every American brougham could be turned into an Austin Allegro at the snap of one’s fingers. A massive improvement.
And you’d be amazed how quickly I could snap my fingers.
You’re deep Brougham hatred is getting a bit old, have you considered counseling?
I think I need counseling..
With a name like Austin, I had to endure a lifetime of being called Austin Rover.
Ahhhhh!!! The Nightmares.
I’m due a breakdown.:)
You should have changed your middle name to Martin.
What about the Vanden Plas models..
They would give Broughams a run for their money.
Vanden Plas a very British Brougham!!!
🙂
The Vanden Plas Allegro,the UKs answer to the Packardbaker but with even fewer takers.
I always get a kick out of the Austins. The one in the picture may be titled as a ’51, but in terms of styling and mechanicals, it’s a ’39. It must have been difficult to sell them – though I know they did sell.
It wasnt just the Austins, it seemed that everything Britan made seemed to be from the 40’s even into the 50’s and 60’s, Rolls-Royce is a good example, they were still making a car that was about as nice as a 1939 Packard in 1965.
My wife and I have owned two British cars, two MINIs–oh wait, they’re British-assembled (presumably mostly by robots) cars, made in a German-owned factory according to a design by a German company. So we really haven’t, then.
I nearly talked my dad into buying a beautiful BRG MGB-GT, over 25 years ago, and although my mother would have had a fit and he and I both might have been driven up the wall by the maintenance headaches, I think he still regrets not getting it. My plan was to finagle a way into taking it to college. 😉
Wonderful article, but…”I arrived in the US in 1960, which represents the eclipse of the great British car era in the US.” Did you mean 1960 was the year when it was covered up, invisible? There were zillions of British cars to choose from and the roadsters were the coolest. Maybe you meant a word like apex, or zenith, or just the peak?
I think he means it was when other imports like VW started to outsell the British mainstream stuff.
It’s not the best idea to write just before bed-time….
Bedtime, the eclipse of our awareness… 😉
I first noticed British cars when I was in elementary school in the 1950’s – mostly Hillman Minxes, Austin A-30’s like the green one shown here, Ford Consuls and Anglias – started to show up in the area. I was interested enough in cars to notice them. When I was in high school some people moved in just down the road who not only had a son close to my age but a Jaguar Mark VII sedan. I was most impressed by this curvaceous leather-upholstered sedan. Rick’s dad Eric was an airline pilot and a sports car enthusiast, and it wasn’t long before I got invited along to sports car races – SCCA iirc – at places like the Bremerton and Shelton airports. I remember how frustrated he was when the Mark VII started to need repair work a little too often, and combined with the fact that he had four children, it had to be replaced with a maroon 1954 Chevrolet station wagon. It was a three-speed car, and he drove it like he had the Mark VII, using the transmission much more than other drivers I’d ridden with until then. I rode along to at least a couple of races in the Chevy wagon, and remember seeing Stirling Moss driving a 300SL. A pal of Eric’s had a TR-3, and after that an Austin-Healey 100-6, both of which he raced, so we got to have pit passes. This was in the day when the car would be driven to the race, the numbers taped to the doors, the headlights taped over with masking tape, and it was ready to race. Of course most of the cars we saw racing were Triumphs, Austin-Healeys, and MG’s, and some Jaguars – there were relatively few Porsches and Mercedes cars, and I can’t really remember seeing any American cars at all. A couple of early Corvettes could be seen in the parking lot but I don’t remember one being raced. After a couple of years Eric finally was able to dispose of the station wagon in favor of a new 1957 olive green 220S sedan, which was very impressive indeed to me.
I think it must have been not much later that I received my first major disappointment regarding British cars. Eric with Rick and I tagging along had gone to a used car dealer in Burien to look at some car – I’ve completely forgotten what it was – and on the back row there was a red Jaguar XK-120 coupe. It was several years old by then, noticeably worn and sporting a dubious faded paint job, but straight and complete. I walked around it, opened the door and got in, and found out that I didn’t fit. I was already 6′ 2″ tall, and while I could manage to sit in it and close the door there was no room for my legs to work the pedals. What a disappointment!
Years later – in 1968 – I succumbed to all the hype I’d read about Rover 2000’s in Car and Driver and other buff books, and bought the first used one I could find from the Rover dealer in Tacoma. I’ve already complained about that car in fairly comprehensive fashion both here and on TTAC, so I’ll just say here that it was an extremely enjoyable car to drive on the twisty roads that we have in western Washington, and I liked the styling and the red leather seats. But I had never before encountered a car that required such efforts to keep running, and that included more than one old beater I’d resurrected from a wrecking yard.
I remember reading Yates’ piece in C&D, and I have to say that I’m not surprised that so many of his predictions came true.
Few cars made a better first impression than the Rover TC. A rakish British sport sedan priced well below a Jag. The specs and performance were impressive. The size was just right.
I can say for sure NO car made a worse ownership experience than the Rover. Our extended family has owned a variety of cars including the TC and it was BY FAR the worst. Odd noises we could never fix. It never started. Leaked oil EVERYWHERE.
It took 30 years for us to take a chance on another British car and in 2004 my father bought a Jaguar XJ8 that he owned until last month. It looked like a Series III but was built on a new all-aluminum platform co-developed by the American company Alcoa.
What a car that was. 107K trouble free miles. 20-24 MPG. Awesome ride and great handling from that wonderfully stiff, solid platform. Fast as hell.
He bought the Jag because of the Ford influence and old world charm and it did not disappoint. Jags today look positively cartoonish and they did away with the costly all-aluminum platform some time ago.
As for classic British cars they’ve always struck me as as glorified kits cars, pretty to look at but woefully underdeveloped.
The current XJ is still aluminum; it looks quite different, but it’s an adaptation of the previous platform. The XF is steel and I believe retains at least some structural kinship with the pre-sale S-Type.
Sorry for that hasty post. The current XJ is still all-alimumum however I remember reading somewhere about a decontenting, perhaps having to do with less bonding and riveting?
I also remember the curb weight going up by more than I exepcted for regs and equipment. My Dad’s XJ was about 3,800 lbs. IIRC the current one is closer to 4,200. Even if I’m off by half that’s a pretty big weight increase considering the more recent trend is to shave pounds not add them.
My ex brother in law had a Rover TC which spectacularly and expensively self destructed it’s differential.It lay dead for a few months til my sister made him get rid of it.
I’m pretty certain that the flaws are part of the reason I like British cars (and Italians, come to think of it. Otherwise there’d be nothing to tinker with.
They let me play at being an engineer, sorting out the little underdeveloped bits that hold the car back in its stock form.
I like a car to leave my stewardship in better shape than when it entered it, mileage notwithstanding.
I have great sympathy with your sentiment.
My first engine rebuild was an Austin A-series 1098 for my first successful restoration, a 1962 Mk1 Midget. It was the perfect car to learn basic mechanical skills on; an extremely basic car. With the running gear and front sheet metal removed, I used to pick up the front end and move it like a wheelbarrow.
The Midget was the first of quite a few Brit cars I owned, and the learning experience serves me to this day.
Pity the poor Brits. They started so far ahead…with the Rolls and Rover/Land Rover; with Jaguar; with the other storied brands. The market was theirs to lose…who wanted to drive a Nazi-Party KdF-Wagen in America? British cars, like Ferguson and David Brown tractors, were engineered. Quite so, wot?
The labor turmoil and the nationalization of the industries, not only arrested progress, it turned the motor industry into a social works program…while the customer was kept waiting; was ignored in his dissatisfaction; was told to bugger off. The end was natural and predictable: First the Germans, then the Japanese, picked up where British Leyland and Lucas could not.
And here we are; with the vestiges of that great industry all owned by foreigners.
I have never owned a British auto but have experience with the motorcycles. I had a 1970 Triumph bonneville 650. It was probably the sweetest bike that I have ever owned. At 17 years of age it was a marvel. It needed somewhat regular replacement of the nylon float needles regulating fuel delivery and the HT leads needed replacement as they shorted to the tourque stay fastening the head to the frame when it was damp but what a ride, and how could any sentient being fault the look. Flat on the tank, it would top 120mph. What followed was a 72 Norton Comando 750 with the, so called, “combat engine”. This was another fabulous bike. Fast as you would want ( This WAS 1972) but it did not seem to be “of a piece” like the Triumph had been. Several tank slappers at not unreasonable speeds led me to purchase a 73 Truimph Bonneville 750. It had a higher seating position than that the 70 (new frame, the first in years) and, given the troubles at the factory, it was not of the same quality as the 70. Early on, one of the cast, finned aluminium clamps that held the exhaust header to the head snapped. I repaced it with a Hose clamp and waited about eight months for a replacement from the mother country. I sold that bike to a woman and was bikeless for a number of years. I hate to state it but, like many in the automotive world, even those devoted to British “engineering” I went Japanese. In about 1977, I purchased a 73 (I think) Kawasaki 750 Tripple from my younger brother. It had been tweaked, expansion chambers, dual front disks etc. On one of my first rides, I pulled onto an onramp to our local freeway and noticed that the steering had become very light. I then,quickly, concluded that it was simply the result of the front wheel being off the ground. Man, If this is what a Japanese motorcycle is like, what have I been missing? Apparently, I had been missing what automobile consumers had been catching on to. It was a whole new world.
I’ve always thought the XK-Es were beautiful but as far as owning one, nope! I’m old enough to remember when these were just older used cars how the numbers running well were outnumbered by the ones needing repair.
The two Brit cars I’d love to own if I could find an affordable one (in America please) would be a Lloyd Alexander or Ford Prefect. I’ve also loved Jowett Jupiters but they are priced pretty high nowadays…