MG 14/28

There are only four differences in appearance between the flat-radiator MG 14/28 and the 14/40, some of which had rounded radiators. These are the louvres round the scuttle, the extension to the base of the radiator shell, round ship-style ventilators and the omission of an apron in the space between the front dumb-irons. With his careful eye for economy, MG director Cecil Kimber felt there was no need for fresh art work for each so between 1923 and 1929 advertisements for both were more or less interchangeable. WL2228 is a 13.9HP sports in claret and silver 4-seater first registered, according to the encyclopaedic Oxford to Abingdon, the classic source of reference by Robin Barraclough and Phil Jennings, on 18 May 1927.
(from Dove Publishing's MG File) 1926 MG 14/28 Super Sports
The distinction between specially bodied Morris Oxfords sold through The Morris Garages, and the establishment of MG as a car manufacturer in its own right, is far from clear-cut. An advertisement in the June 1924 Morris Owner magazine used the MG octagon against a picture of a de luxe Landaulette on the 14/28 Morris Oxford chassis. The following month there was an MG Sports Four Seater Morris Oxford in “burnished aluminium and smoke blue, or to choice,” advertised with, “The graceful lines of a yacht.” Kimber’s other preoccupation was sailing, and it was no surprise that this car too featured ship-style ventilator cowls. In 1925 there was an MG 14/28 Weymann saloon, “absolutely devoid of rattle”, with four wheel brakes. Yet it was not until mid-October 1927 that The Morris Garages registered cars with Oxford County Borough Council, as anything other than Morris Oxford or Morris Cowley. One 14/28 was a well finished saloon advertised as “…on the famous ‘Imshi’ chassis”, a reference to a six-month expedition by the Daily Mail’s motoring correspondent through France, Italy, Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, and Spain to prove the worth of the Morris Oxford. “Imshi” was Arabic for “Get a move on.”
BODY: Saloon 4-door, 4-seat; coupe; 2-doors; 2-seats; weight 18cwt (914.4kg). Open 4-seater, 2-door; weight 18.25cwt (927.1kg)
ENGINE
4-cylinders; in-line; 75mm x 102mm, 1802cc; compr 5:1; 35bhp (27kW) @ 4000rpm; 19.4bhp (15kW)/l.
ENGINE STRUCTURE
Side camshaft; side valve; mushroom tappets; detachable cast iron cylinder head and block; aluminium pistons; Smith, SU, or Solex carburettor; 3-bearing crankshaft.
TRANSMISSION
Rear wheel drive; wet cork clutch; 3-speed non-synchromesh manual gearbox; enclosed torque tube; spiral bevel final drive 4.42:1.
CHASSIS DETAILS
Steel channel-section chassis; ash-framed aluminium body; pressed steel scuttle; suspension, front half-elliptic leaf springs, rear three-quarter elliptic; Gabriel snuubers at front, Hartford shock absorbers at rear; Duplex Hartfords on salonette; Four wheel brakes, front patent Rubury, 12in (30.48cm) drums (with optional servo £20), 1925-1926; worm and wheel steering; 7gal (31.8litre) fuel tank; 700 x 80 Dunlop Cord beaded-edge tyres; 3-stud steel artillery wheels with Ace discs 1924-1925; bolt-on wire spoke 1925-1926. Saloon 28 x 4.95 Dunlop reinforced balloon tyres.
DIMENSIONS
Wheelbase 102in (259.08cm) and 108in (274.32cm); track 48in (121.92cm); length: 152in (386.08cm); width: 60in (152.4cm); height: 65in (165.1cm) with hood up.
PERFORMANCE
Max speed 65mph (105kph); 19.4mph (31.22kph) @1000rpm; 0-50mph 23.8sec; fuel consumption 19mpg (14.9l/100km)
PRICE Open 4-seater £375; 2-seater £350; Salonette £475. 4-seat salonette without tail compartment £495. Optional equipment included luggage carrier, a variety of mascots, rev counter, spot lights, and a monograme or crest on the door at £2.2s (£2.10). PRODUCTION approx 400
XV 9508 is a 14/40, first registered on 29 December 1928.

Model T Ford on Ben Nevis

Getting a Model T Ford up Ben Nevis was a formidable undertaking. Dudley Grierson got about two-thirds of the way up on an MMC-Werner motorcycle in 1901 but Henry Alexander, the Edinburgh Ford dealer, made it all the way in May 1911. Ford of Britain, celebrating its centenary this year, has just released a picture from its archives showing the car on a mountainside bridge. Alexander and his chums had to build some crossings over rocky screes and tumbling burns, and the car underwent a certain amount of dismantling. It had only minimal bodywork. Snow-chains were used but since a Model T weighed only 1200lb (544kg) manhandling was possible. I got as far up as Grierson once, on foot, on narrow steep pathways.
Easily assembled. Easily taken apart to ascend Ben Nevis The first British Ford assembled from imported parts was produced on 23 October 1911. Ford’s Irish factory supplied chassis items until Joseph Sankey, of Hadley Shropshire, could take over so by the 1920s Model Ts were made from home grown components. A moving production line came in September 1914. Assembly had been a stationary affair with axles and chassis laid out on the floor and building a Model T took 12 hours. Moving assembly tracks had been used elsewhere, but Ford waited until components could be made accurately enough to be interchangeable. Build time was cut to an hour and a half. The following year the flywheel magneto operated an electric lighting set, not altogether satisfactorily, since being dependent on engine speed, the lights grew dim when driving slowly. The Model T’s success was overwhelming. All other Fords were discontinued to try meeting the demand. A quarter of a million Model Ts came off the line at the new Detroit Highland Park plant; 3000 a year made Ford Britain’s biggest car maker. Historian Anthony Bird wrote: “To say of the Model T Ford that it was a remarkably bad car would be tantamount to doubting the judgement of the 15,007,033 satisfied customers who bought the Lizzie during her production life of 19 years. To placate their shades and turn aside the howls of angry derision which must greet the statement let it be rephrased, to say that Henry Ford, like Carl Benz before him, was an obstinate man whose undeniable ingenuity was tinged with perversity, with the result that his masterpiece was marred by some curiously maladroit features.”
From The Ford in Britain Centenary File: Available March

MGB Twin Cam and Austin A30

Classic cars cost more than you expect. I loved my MGB and A30. They were fine in prosperous times but I am relieved, in a way, I don’t still have them. The A30 was pure nostalgia. The first car I ever owned was an A30 and recreating the noises and the feel of what you were driving as an early-twenty-something was enjoyable. I was late into having my own car. The A30 was a strong monocoque, it was quite sound when I bought it but keeping the dreaded tinworm at bay seemed never-ending. And I did like (see other blogs) to make a car feel like it was when new. I could do this with the MG. Pretty well all it got from its donor car was the chassis plate. As the accompanying piece from the Telegraph of 1998 shows, it was an attempt to create a Twin Cam MGB. Had it been more skilfully executed, it would have been a fine car. As it was, it proved troublesome but it looked sensational – perfectly period, and it was about as fast as my Z3, which meantime remains my regular everyday classic.

Austin A70 Hampshire Countryman

The Austin A70 Hampshire Countryman I discovered at Goodwood features in Colin Peck's British Woodies 1920s-1950s, one of Veloce's splendid Those Were the Days series. It is on the jacket and inside, complete with badges, which it has since lost. The period badge bar remains. There is no room for badges on the flush fronts of cars nowadays. Shame really. They did add a bit of personal identity to a car. Apparently Papworth Industries made 900 of these handsome estate cars between 1947 and 1949. Only seven are believed to survive, of which MAS 867 is the only one roadworthy. The main picture on the jacket is a Ford Pilot - the Austin is hidden by the folded bit on the picture above.

Alfasud in Venice

You can scarcely imagine a less suitable place for a car launch than Venice. Yet Alfa Romeo once used it for an Alfasud in the 1970s. We had a test route based at nearby industrial Mestre through interminable traffic, so it was a less than successful exercise for a car that was a revelation. Sadly it suffered terribly from body rot. Alfa had been directed by the Italian government to build a factory in Naples for the relief of unemployment and, as with every attempt by politicians to meddle in the motor industry, it ended ignominiously. It used such low quality steel that the pretty bodywork started disintegrating almost as soon as it left the line at Pomigliano d’Arco. Wikipedia thought this might be due to, “storage conditions of bodies at the plant,” which seems altogether too kind. The Alfasud design was developed by Austrian Rudolf Hruska and 893,719 saloons and 121,434 of the exquisite Sprints were made between 1971 and 1989. However as Autocar reported despite its incredible handling, easy cruising and practicality it suffered from a bad driving position, lack of safety equipment and, in a damning criticism for the usually well-disposed testers of September 20 1973, it was, “not that reliable.”
Alfasuds then cost £1,471. The engine was a sweet-revving flat four with a belt-driven overhead camshaft at each end. Rack and pinion steering and superb balance made it an outstanding drive at a time when Austin was making the Allegro and Morris the Marina. The Sprint was an early work by Giugiaro but frailty led to the delightful Sud being consigned to a footnote in automotive history.

Went back to Venice last week. The streets are still flooded, yet what an architectural and cultural delight it is, notwithstanding hordes of tourists. They flock to it and pay up cheerfully. WS Gilbert knew how expensive Venice was when he wrote with perfect irony, “We’re called Gondolieri/ But that’s a vagary/ It’s quite honorary/ The trade that we ply…”

JENSEN SP

I really can’t be bothered with old cars that are stiff in the joints or creak, rattle and break down. It’s not a fashionable view, but there you are. After a lifetime testing cars straight out of the factory, carefully prepared by press departments, that is how I like them. Patina is all very well but the only way we can understand old cars is with thoroughgoing complete renovations. Proper restorations, which bring them back to what they were when new, are instructive.

Take this beautiful tangerine Jensen SP restored by owner Phil Hayes. Preserved on blocks for 17 years, it was brought back from Kent to Cheshire four years ago to win silver at a Jensen Owners’ Club concours. A star of the NEC Classic Car Show it has still only done 47,000 miles and following my recent Jensen item, Phil kindly sent photographs showing how splendid it is. Refurbished, he says as a labour of love, he has good reason to be proud; the before-and-after pictures of the engine show how much work must have gone into it.

This Jensen was important, a transformation from the uncouth CV8 of 1962. Vignale’s elegant Interceptor, introduced in 1967, still looks good today. It was a welcome change from bulgy glass reinforced plastic to sleek shapely steel. Along with cars like the Aston Martin DB4 of 1958-1963 the Jensen showed up-market British cars could be stylish. Alas it proved prone to rust, but preserved beautifully as in this case, it reminds us what a triumph it was. Penalty of the 7212cc V8 is fuel consumption I described at the time as like the bath running out. I went to the press launch where the FF was demonstrated on wet grass banks. Sixteen years ahead of the Audi Quattro, this was a refined four wheel drive car with automatic transmission, Powr-Lok diff, Dunlop Maxeret anti-lock brakes, a 4in longer wheelbase and two extractor vents on the side.