Regular readers will be able to cast their minds back to May this year, and the article we published previewing the brand new Great British Car Journey museum in Derbyshire, England. I’m pleased to report that despite the challenging trading conditions facing all visitor attractions during 2021, the GBCJ has proven to be a roaring success.
Being located in an existing tourist hot-spot has no doubt helped, but the museum’s focus on everyday British classic cars has really caught the imagination of those visiting. There are plenty of motoring attractions where people can view exotica and aspirational sports cars, but I’d challenge anyone who grew up in the UK to navigate this hall without spotting at least one car that has been present in their past. I can count at least four of my old family cars amongst the selection, numerous others that were owned by friends and neighbours, and at least one that was still a current model when I started working in the motor industry. I didn’t think I was that old…
It’s undoubtedly a pleasure to tread the carpet between the old motors, but in most museums that’s where it ends. Exit through the gift shop, see you next time. This is where the Great British Car Journey is different. The real star attraction is “Drive Dad’s Car”, an opportunity for visitors to choose which model from a wide selection of classics they want to experience personally. Pretty much anyone with a driving licence can arrange to hop into a car and sample it on the museum’s own test loop, away from normal traffic. Each driver is accompanied by a knowledgeable and experienced instructor who helps get the most out of each car and explain their history and foibles. It’s a brilliant opportunity to relive a few memories or make brand new ones, and I certainly can’t think of anywhere else that offers the same.
I have spent a lot of time with this fleet of cars over the past summer, and courtesy of the Great British Car Journey, ViaRETRO can now share some of that fun with you in a new series of articles called Great Drives. The museum’s drive fleet consists of a wide range of models from a 1937 Austin Seven Ruby Saloon to a 1989 Roll-Royce Silver Spirit, and all points in between. Knowing where to start is therefore a problem, so I’ve chosen one of the most popular classics on British roads, the evergreen Morris Minor.
A true evergreen!
The Morris Minor was the creation of Alec Issigonis from the period before he lost his way, as recently argued on these pages. Development of the Minor commenced in 1941 which wasn’t exactly a boom time for civilian car sales, but Morris Motors were keen to position themselves as well as possible for what they hoped would be a rapid return to peace-time business. Issigonis had come to the attention of Morris’ chief engineer due to his pre-war work on coil spring wishbone suspension and rack and pinion steering. Whilst neither technology had yet been adopted by Morris, the time was right to be ambitious for the planned successor to the pre-war Morris Eight.
Pre-war daily for the masses – Morris Eight Saloon.
Issigonis was granted a small team to work on a car that in his words “the average man would take pleasure in owning, rather than feeling of it as something he’d been sentenced to”. Under a strict code of secrecy, Project Mosquito was born. Working free from the constraints of supervision, Issigonis let his ambition fly and scoped a relatively low and squat platform with lightweight small diameter wheels placed as close to each corner as possible. He proposed to ditch the traditional front beam axle in favour of independent suspension, allowing the engine to be placed much further forward than was previously possible. The rear end would be similarly independently suspended, moving away from the standard old fashioned leaf arrangement. Motive power would come from a brand-new high output water cooled flat-four engine, available in 800cc capacity for the domestic market with 1100cc reserved for export.
The Morris Mosquito prototype.
All was well until 1946 when management focus returned to the civilian market, and eyes turned to review what Issigonis had been up to. Problematically, Lord Nuffield was unimpressed. He considered the prototype to be too avant garde and the accountants went dizzy at the lack of component commonality with any current products. Piece by piece, Issigonis’ ambitions for the Mosquito had to be scaled back. In the race to restart civilian car sales, the Morris Board of Directors were insistent the new car had to be ready to launch at the 1948 British Motor Show. The cuts were brutal and rapid; the rear end of the Mosquito was downgraded to conventional leaf springs and the radical flat-four engine was binned in favour of a revised side valve from the Morris Eight. Even the Mosquito name was deemed to be too adventurous and it was dropped in favour of an old moniker. The Mosquito may have lost some of its advanced engineering but a last minute decision to widen the car by 4 inches was critical, improving the appearance, space and handling. The evidence of that decision is still witnessed in the flat central section of every Minor’s bonnet.
Charming and great in every variation.
The Great British Car Journey’s example is a Series III Minor dating from 1961, meaning it benefits from the Austin derived A-Series engine that was introduced in 1952, and subsequently upgraded to 948cc by the time our car was built. Most notably, the Lilac paintwork and ivory interior trim tells us this car is one of the 350 special edition Minor Millions, made to celebrate (you’ve guessed it) production of one million Minors. Each Morris dealer received one, with 368 TTE being issued to J S Horsfall Ltd in Nelson, Lancashire, and numbered as 191 of the limited series. It’s a lovely car in fabulous condition and for a little while, the keys are mine.
Pulling the door handle and climbing inside involves descending a long way into the driver’s seat. You sit quite low but upright in a Morris Minor, instilling a sense of alertness that would make Issigonis proud, the mad old masochist. It’s not uncomfortable, far from it, but it’s not a car in which you are prone to slouch. Forward visibility is excellent, but you need owl-like flexibility to see down the flanks behind, given the lack of external mirrors. Anyway, who cares what’s behind, what’s ahead is more important; in this case the Lilac painted dashboard. It’s a simple affair, adorned only with a centrally positioned speedometer which incorporates the fuel gauge, and a row of pull switches. There is a central keyhole for the ignition but to start the engine you’ll want the right-most pull cable, one reminder that the genesis of this familiar car dates back over 70 years.
With a tug on the cable, 368 TTE springs into life straight away, clearly keen to get moving. Pulling away, it’s immediately apparent that the Minor is a delightfully easy thing to drive. The clutch is light and the gearchange is quite positive, the A-Series engine pulling well from low revs. An essential part of the Minor’s soundtrack soon makes itself known, the trademark raspberry from the exhaust when changing gear. It’s frankly hard to believe the design is as old as it is; it must have been a revelation when it was first launched. You’d never mistake it blindfold for a new car, but the large diameter steering wheel makes manoeuvering a doddle and it’s easy to make progress. The brakes take a bit of shove, but for those of us used to non-servo systems it’s nothing out of the ordinary and it pulls up short and square when you really need to.
The real key to the Minor’s lightness of touch and ease of operation, lies in the steering. Rack and pinion was cutting edge technology in 1948, and a rarity on a mainstream affordable car, and its inclusion is one key attribute that remained from the Mosquito. Contrasted with the vague steering boxes from a generation before and indeed a generation later, it’s a real benefit. Its notable that Ford stuck with a steering box for their 1959 Anglia 105E, the tightwads. Buyers loyal to the blue oval had to wait for the debut of the Escort in order to experience the blessing of a rack. Whether it was luck or obstinance that meant the Minor was granted such a modern system in the bonfire of the Mosquito’s better features, I cannot say, but I know it really makes the car. If only they had found a way to reinstate the rear independent suspension, the Minor would have really fulfilled it’s potential.
It’s not worth worrying about what might have been however, because this one romps along enthusiastically enough, just as it is. Showing only 33,000 recorded miles, the car is commendably free of shake, rattle or roll, and has an unexpected sense of solidity. There was a school of thought that the Minor’s body was perhaps too taught and robust as no thought was given to crumple zones, but I find it’s better to avoid accidents in the first place, and the Minor is on your side in this respect. For a car of such ancient origins, it’s ability to change direction is quite impressive, and 368 TTE is pin sharp in that respect. As a bonus, negotiating junctions provides the perfect excuse to activate the groovy trafficators, already an anachronism by 1961 but brilliantly evocative. Lovers of engineering will appreciate the muffled clonk as they deploy and retract. I’d never get bored of that, hell I might even revise my policy of never indicating unless I think the police are watching.
Letting my mind wander, I could easily see how a good example of a Morris Minor would make a fine daily driver. Minors have a big following and spares support is excellent. There are plenty of little tweaks that can be made to improve performance, particular with regard to the A-Series engine and the braking system. Primarily though, it’s a testament to the quality of the original design that one could be used without modification quite happily. Issigonis may have wanted more for the Minor but the resulting product was still a genuinely good car, sufficiently ahead of it’s time to make an impact and justify a long production run. They made over 1.36 million of the things and DVLA data shows there are at least 13,000 Morris 1000s scattered around this island, not accounting for all other variants and the worldwide population. That should tell you something about their enduring popularity. In the context of the Great British Car Journey, the Morris Minor Million is a fine way to start our new series of road tests.
Now here’s the good news: if you want to experience this well-sorted Minor Million for yourself, you can. You can drive the very car featured here by visiting the Great British Car Journey at Ambergate, Derbyshire. The best way to secure your chosen drive is to book in advance, so go to www.greatbritishcarjourney.com to plan your visit.
