Last year we brought you the first in our new series of Great Drives, courtesy of the Great British Car Journey, and now, well into 2022, it’s about time we follow up with our second feature. Unlike most car museums, the Great British Car Journey allows you to drive a wide selection of motors from their collection, and we’re sharing some of that fun with you. You really need to try it for yourself, but you can catch up on my drive in the Morris Minor Million by clicking here. Today we’re looking at another compact classic from the museum’s eclectic collection, but it’s a very different kettle of fish than the quite conventional Morris.
The Hillman Imp is one of those cars that is often overlooked. Whereas it’s not uncommon to still see a Morris Minor in the wild, the Hillman Imp was produced in lower numbers and has a proportionally lower survival rate. That’s a shame, because the Imp is a cracker of a thing and it deserves wider recognition. Launched in 1963, Rootes Group went for a bold approach for their new economy model, with the explicit aim of knocking the BMC Mini off its perch as the nation’s favourite small car, or at least that’s where their ambition ended up. In fact, development of their new fuel sipping economy car dated back to 1955 when there was a need for Rootes to make a mark in the sub 1-litre market segment, becoming more urgent after the Suez crisis and the appearance of imported bubble cars from the likes of Messerschmidt, Heinkel and BMW’s Isetta. Rootes engineers Michael Parkes (who was later to become a notable racing driver) and Tim Fry were tasked with heading up the project engineering team at headquarters in Ryton, but the project got off to a false start. Their first prototype met the broad design brief of economy and utility, but the two-cylinder “Slug” was essentially just another bubble car. Rootes had a reputation for fine engineering to uphold, and the Slug missed the mark by a mile. Parkes and Fry were sent back to the drawing board with the clear stipulation that four cylinder power was a pre-requisite. The project was relaunched under the name of Project Apex, and it was the kick start the team needed to produce something really quite marvellous.
The Slug prototype in all its glory.
In hindsight it was a blessing in disguise that Rootes lacked a small capacity engine of their own. This forced the development team to look around and approach Coventry Climax, who were producing a lightweight and comparatively powerful FWMA all-aluminium racing engine. The lazy cliché is that the Imp came to be powered by a pump engine from a fire tender, but whilst the water-cooled four-cylinder was based on the Coventry Climax FWM, the FWMA (for Automotive) had a larger bore and stroke and featured an all-aluminium alloy overhead camshaft which was advanced engineering for the time. Best of all, it was a compact unit which could be mounted low in the chassis, but more of that later. The decision to mount the high revving engine in the rear of the car meant a strong transmission would be required, of a type that Rootes had no experience of. Rootes poached a gearbox designer with experience of continental rear-engined cars and the result was a transaxle that combined the diff and gearbox in the same aluminium casing. Critically, the gearset was to have the advantage of full synchromesh, something that Issigonis had deemed impossible to achieve in a small car. On the question of why the engine was rear mounted in the first place, remember this was still pre-BMC Mini and small cars commonly had a rear/rear layout; think Renault, Simca, FIAT and NSU. By the time BMC revolutionised things in 1959, the Imp’s layout was set in stone and it was too late to change course.
Small but technically advanced.
One obstacle in bringing the new car to market was that Rootes simply had no capacity to build it. Their preference was to expand the Ryton plant, but planning permission was refused and the Government insisted they develop a new plant in a defined enterprise zone in return for funding. With some lack of enthusiasm, Rootes settled on a site at Linwood near Glasgow, a good 320 miles from their engineering base. This complication meant the new plant and new car had to be simultaneously ready for production, which perhaps drove Rootes to start selling Imps before they were fully ready. Launch day arrived in 1963 but the Imp rapidly gained a reputation for unreliability, blighted largely as a result of owners and garages neglecting to maintain the alloy engines properly, coupled with a tendency for driveshaft guibo couplings to decouple. Despite the best efforts of badge engineering and marketing, sales suffered. To quantify the damage inflicted by this loss of customer confidence, of the 500,000 Imps built between 1963 and 1976, half were built during the first three years of production. In order to sample peak Imp, it stands to reason that a later car should therefore be a better car, and thanks to the Great British Car Journey we have that opportunity.
This week’s test car is a lovely example of a later generation Imp, dating from after Chrysler’s acquisition of Rootes Group. First registered in January 1972, it’s resplendent in a groovy shade of metallic turquoise and appears to be a very unmolested and original car. It has a patina that comes from care and preservation rather than restoration. Little touches hint at its history; check out the original and expensive mirrorline rear number plate and the badge depicting the county crest of Warwickshire. Tantalisingly, to the left of the rear number plate is evidence of the fixing holes for another badge, now missing. Was it perhaps a memento of Sussex where the car was first registered, a member’s badge for AA or RAC breakdown assistance, or something else? Either way, the Hillman Imp Club tax disc holder in the windscreen shows it was enthusiast owned before joining the museum’s drive fleet.
Settling into the driver’s seat, the Imp’s interior is a functional but comfortable place. Being a late model build the strip speedometer of the early cars is gone, replaced by a row of four circular dials. The switchgear is sparse and a single multifunctional stalk sprouts from the steering column. The large diameter steering wheel and excellent visibility are traits shared with most old cars, lest we forget. Being rear-engined, there is no real transmission tunnel dividing the floor so there’s a good sense of space considering it’s such a small car. Turn the ignition key and the engine soon catches and bursts into life. Early cars were equipped with an automatic choke but it was problematic and so was replaced by a manual choke controlled with a floor mounted lever, as found here. The engine gets up to temperature quickly. Many Imps got up to temperature a bit too quickly, but this one soon settles down to a steady idle.
Slotting the short throw gear selector into synchro-equipped first, the Imp pulls away cleanly and the engine responds well to a few revs. The 875cc engine in our test car is capable of 39 bhp at 5,000 rpm, but the Coventry Climax has so much more tuning potential; the standard crankshaft is forged and counterweighted so was good for an incredible 10,000 rpm in competition tuned motors. The lightweight motor was installed in the chassis canted at a 45° angle to keep the centre of gravity low, which in turn helped with road-holding and gave the Imp a talent for rapidly changing direction. Rootes may have set out to build a utilitarian fuel-efficient commuter car, but they produced something far more engaging. The Imp may have lived in the shadow of the BMC Mini but in my view the Hillman is streets ahead. Not only does it ride far better than a Mini, but it’s more spacious, just as responsive and isn’t burdened by the constant transmission racket of its rival.
You’d be disappointed if a car with the Imp’s mechanical layout wasn’t agile. The steering is direct and uncorrupted and retains enough feel at speed that you’re never in any doubt of where the front end is heading. The brakes are typical of the era and need a shove to scrub off any meaningful speed, but you’re not likely to be going that fast in the first place. There’s not much weight to reign in, and they’re up to the job. Given that the basic version of the Imp was once the cheapest new car on the British market, and the decision to build them at Linwood plant was something of a leap of faith, the car is far better than it has any right to be. Ultimately, it’s a testament to good engineering, and although the drivetrain was advanced, the Imp lacks the pretentious technical complication that came from arch-rivals BMC. Unfortunately, the ongoing programme of improvements throughout the Imp’s production run couldn’t salvage its market position, but they did combine to make a late model Imp a fine car. It’s a fun way to travel; eager, agile and thoroughly involving. With the uncorrupted front end and the engine slung out the back it’s basically a Porsche 911 on a budget, right? If nothing else, the funky colour of our test car can’t fail to put a smile on your face? Look, if you don’t like a Hillman Imp you must be irretrievably grumpy, and that’s that.
Now here’s the good news: if you want to experience a well-sorted Hillman Imp for yourself, you can drive the very car featured here by visiting the Great British Car Journey at Ambergate, Derbyshire. Opened in 2021, the museum has rapidly become a must-visit destination for lovers of old British cars and offers an interactive journey through 100 years of triumph and disaster. The “Drive Dad’s Car” experience lets visitors test a wide range of makes and models dating from the 1930s to the 1990s. As the perfect way to round off a visit to the UK’s newest large motoring attraction, it’s an immersive treat that will either bring back memories or create brand new ones. The best way to secure your chosen drive is to book in advance. Go to www.greatbritishcarjourney.com to plan your visit.
