The Great British Car Journey in Derbyshire have been hosting monthly car nights over the summer months. With autumn fast approaching, I went down to the September meeting to catch the last of the warm weather.
The September event was not blessed with the unbroken sunshine of previous evenings, but dry conditions still tempted a large crowd of enthusiasts to bring their classics along. The atmosphere of an eager crowd gathered under the setting sun bred jovial contentment, no doubt helped along by the reasonably priced real ale bar. It was everything a good car evening is supposed to be, easy going and packed with variety.
I shouldn’t admit that when we arrived at 6:30pm we swopped places with a genuine Group B Ford RS200, fleetingly glimpsed using the exit gate. Naturally, my camera was in the boot of my car. I’ll attempt to make amends with the ones we did manage to catch though, and I’ll start big with a Lotus Carlton. Here was a car so notorious it was once the subject of wailing newspaper headlines and a question raised in the Houses of Parliament. Was it responsible that the general public should have access to a saloon car capable of 177mph? Surely carnage would inevitably result? What would happen once minicab drivers got hold of the things? The hand-wringers could barely sleep at night and the fable of 40RA gave them more ammunition; that short registration being attached to the getaway car the police never managed to catch. Of course, compared to an easily financed Tesla the Carlton now merely seems brisk, but it’s got bags more soul than any battery powered appliance.
Parked a stone’s throw from the mighty Carlton but a world away in all other terms, was the tiny 1959 Nobel 200 “Limousine” microcar. The three-wheeler was a British built version of the German Fuldamobil, made under licence by York Nobel Industries Ltd. In what sounds like a highly inefficient manufacturing process, GRP bodies were made by the Bristol Aeroplane Company, the box-section steel chassis came from Rubery Owen in the West Midlands whilst final assembly was undertaken by Short Brothers in Belfast. Power came from a 191cc two stroke Sachs engine and according to owners of this example, the Nobel had an 8 speed gearbox; starting the engine in reverse delivered the same 4 ratios for going backwards as forwards. The intention had been made to offer cars in both turn-key and kit form, but only factory built cars were ever sold. As a result of the convoluted assembly processes, the selling price had to be set too high and the project soon stalled. The appointment of Mike Hawthorn as Technical Director is an interesting footnote, the Grand Prix champion driver presumably doing it purely for the money. The last Nobel 200 was produced in 1962, by which time the microcar boom was over.
The three-wheeler concept wasn’t an entirely dead-duck however. The Reliant Robin and Rialto flew the flag for many years and here’s a nice one, camouflaged to be almost indistinguishable from the GBCJ building. I’ve had the pleasure of driving one of a similar vintage and it’s an experience you wouldn’t forget. There’s the ever-present thrill of its instability but there’s also a memorably non-human driving position and a weird fairground attraction steering wheel. All the while, your leg cooks against the transmission tunnel. Still, it keeps the rain off, I suppose.
If low volume British cars are your thing, you’ll love the Mini-based Scamp. This one is a Mk2 which featured a stronger chassis that did away with the rear subframe from the donor Mini. In this colour scheme, it gives the pleasing impression of being constructed from Lego bricks, which is somehow appropriate for a kit-car. By contrast, the Rover 3500 delivered kit-car build quality from a leading high-volume manufacturer, but you wouldn’t know it from the sleek exterior. This pre-facelift car is an unusual spot these days, and you’ll no doubt appreciate the purity of form, just about identifiable through the fading light. Overlooked for a long time, the SD1 is now on the rise and good examples are hard to find.
Looking elsewhere, fans of fast Fords were spoilt for choice but the 2-door Consul Classic stood out as something a little different from the usual selection of Escorts. Only built from 1961 to 1963, they are best remembered for having transatlantic styling but Consul Classics were respectably competent under the skin. All models had MacPherson strut front suspension with front disc brakes, whilst the 1498cc version featured an all-synchro 4 speed gearbox. The range also saw the first use of the “Capri” nameplate, attached to the coupe variant. This Consul Classic was helpfully parked next to a MkIII Capri in case anyone wanted to play “spot the difference”.
If you prefer a really classic Ford, I draw your attention to this one. I’m no expert on pre-war Fords but it appears to be a very late 1935 Model B 4 door Phaeton, powered by the 221cu Flathead V8. A bystander commented he expected the occupants to be stocky gentlemen wearing Fedoras and carrying violin cases, and similar cars were indeed the motors of choice for the likes of John Dillinger and Bonnie and Clyde. This one looked more gin ‘n’ tonic than gangster, proof that not all pre-war cars must be painted black (Fords included).
I won’t leave without mentioning the Citroen SM, which arrived and departed in convoy with a Jensen Interceptor. The pair caused quite a stir, particularly the rarely seen Citroen. Nor will I overlook the beaky-nosed fourth generation Honda Prelude. You may think I’m daft, but the overlooked Honda is every bit as noteworthy as the more exotic pair mentioned above. Interest in 1990s Japanese cars is high but the focus mainly falls on four-wheel drive rally-bred saloons. The Prelude isn’t so highly prized but it’s a fine example of distinctive coupe design. Early 1990s coupe buyers were spoiled for choice but most seem to have faded into obscurity. When was the last time you saw a Vauxhall Calibra or a Ford Probe for example?
The variety on show at the GBCJ’s evening gathering was remarkable and it’s hard to decide what to close with. On balance, how about an Oyster Beige Rover Metro L Clubman showing only 22,000 miles? If you want something rare, immaculately kept and entirely factory-correct, you’d have to go a long way to beat that.
