Vauxhall Victor

Negative legacy. Vauxhall Victor. Pity really, for although the first FA of 1957-1961 was a styling disaster on the level of the Edsel, there was a Series 2 by 1959 that tidied it up. This took what looked like an accident out of the rear door and the exhaust no longer emerged from a jet-like bit of the bulbous bumper. Unburnt gases left rainbow colours on the chrome in weeks. The Victor was still too narrow and too tall but some of the worst excesses of the Detroite couture were erased. The proportions never suited a narrow car with 13in wheels, there was a lot of overhang, and the pillars of the wrap-around windscreen had a bruising dogleg. There may have been a certain logic in transplanting features popular in America but the two year face-lift was deeply necessary. Detroit never understood the British. There was a Victor estate car and in 1958 the option of the mercifully short-lived Newton two-pedal transmission.
(right)Knee-cracking entry – the wrap-round windscreen pillar.
The 1961-1964 Victor FB was not at all bad. It laid the foundations of a model range that took Vauxhall through to the second half of the 1970s with a lively turn of speed, quite a roomy body and a useful boot, in an era bored with Austin Cambridge, Hillman Minx, Standard 10 and Morris Oxford. The Victor was never going to match the Ford Consul for style but it had a hydraulic clutch and synchromesh on first gear. (below) Vauxhall classic with bonnet flutes, the Wensum.
FB second thoughts exorcised the dogleg A-pillar, and improved the proportions. It also finally banished the trade-mark flutes, which had been on every Vauxhall since Edwardian times. Crisp and even rather than beautiful, the changes put the Victor firmly into the well-respected family category. Wheelbase, track, length, and width were all increased. Only the height was reduced – by 3.8cm (1.5in) and the spare wheel was mounted upright at the side to increase luggage room. Vauxhall had been something of a pioneer of unitary structures and now it managed to reduce the weight by nearly 77kg (170lb). A 3-speed gearbox was standard but customers preferred the optional 4-speed all-synchromesh box, although it was criticised at first for being noisy, with a spongy long-travel remote control shift. Bench seats were standard; discerning customers could have comfortable bucket seats. Steering swivels were re-designed so that grease gun applications were now 12,000 miles apart.
Specification FA:
BODY saloon, 4 seats, 4 doors, weight 1016kg (2240lb); estate 1066kg (2352lb).
ENGINE 4 cylinders, in-line, front, 79.37mm x 76.2mm; 1508cc; compr: 7.8:1; 41kW (55bhp) gross @ 4200rpm, 28kW (36.5bhp)/l; 113 Nm (84lb/ft) @ 2400rpm.
ENGINE STRUCTURE overhead valves; chain-driven camshaft; cast iron cylinder head and block; 4-bearing crankshaft; Zenith VN434 carburettor; centrifugal and vacuum coil ignition; water-cooled.
TRANSMISSION rear wheel drive; Borg & Beck 7.25in sdp clutch; 3-speed gearbox; all synchromesh; hypoid bevel final drive; ratio 4.125:1 saloon, 4.625 estate; optional Newton clutch 1958 engaged at 800rpm.
CHASSIS DETAILS integral steel structure; independent coil spring and wishbone front suspension; anti-roll bar; live axle half-elliptic springs at rear (25% stiffer for estate); telescopic hydraulic dampers; hydraulic composite steel and cast-iron drum brakes; Burman recirculating ball steering; 36.4l (8gal) fuel tank; 5.60-13 (5.90 estate) tyres.
DIMENSIONS wheelbase 249cm (98in); track 127cm (50in) front and rear; ground clearance 16.5cm (6.5in); turning circle 10.5m (34.5ft); length 424cm (167in); width 158cm (62.25in); height 148cm (58.25in); estate permissible load 386kg (850lb), 1275l (45cu ft).
PERFORMANCE maximum speed 120.4kph (75mph); 26.5kph (16.5mph) @ 1000rpm (23.6kph, 14.7mph estate); 25kg/kW (18.5kg/bhp); acceleration 0-60mph 28.1sec (30.9sec estate); fuel consumption 9.1l/100km (31mpg).
PRODUCTION 390,747 all F-type.
PRICE FA £505 + PT £253 17s 0d, £758 17s 0d 1957 Super saloon. £637 + PT £319 17s 0d, £956.17s.0d 1958 estate car with Newton 2-pedal control, £931 7s 0d with manual transmission. £565 + PT £283 17s 0d, £848 17s 0d 1959 series II Super saloon.
PRICE FB with 4-speed gearbox £547, £781 8s 11d.
Unitary structure in 1937, the H-type.


Classic book

Guild of Motoring Writers on a front line? A handful of founders in 1944 maybe but not many. Road tests can be written under fire from unhappy PRs, readers throw brickbats, but it’s a relatively safe business so long as you choose carefully who to drive with on press launches. Yet Mike Brewer was actually shot at doing an illuminating series on army vehicles in Afghanistan. Bouncy and enthusiastic, his publicist describes Brewer as TVs best-known car dealing expert, and now he has produced a book on buying and selling modern classic cars.

Brewer presents Discovery channel’s Wheeler Dealer series, which has been running for nine years and is shown all over the world. It illustrates what interest there is in classic cars and Brewer’s book is a useful primer. It covers buying, owning, selling, auctions and basics like giving a car a deep clean. “It never ceases to amaze me how little effort people make when it comes to tidying up their cars,” Brewer says. Quite right. I learned it long ago during a brief spell in the rough and tumble of the Glasgow motor trade. “If it’s looking a bit grimy get the engine steam cleaned, and don’t forget the painted areas like the inner wings.” Every motoring writer should have a spell selling cars. What makes people buy can be revealing, and it’s hardly ever understeer or oversteer or how many seconds it takes to 60.

Brewer’s experience in the trade was more successful than mine. See his Tales from the Trade. There is cogent advice on starter classics. He recommends Mark 1 Ford Escort and Vauxhall Viva HB - plenty of variants and spares are cheap. I was less convinced about his advocacy of the Triumph Spitfire although he does recommend later ones after 1974.

Sporting classics? MGA yes, Delorean definitely not – terrible car – a dishonest pastiche. Favourite modern classics? VW Beetle – OK. Ford Capri ? Maybe. Lotus Elan? Yes. Jaguar E-type, yes certainly although not the lugubrious V12. And Morgan? OK but probably not the Plus 8, which I always thought over-powered for the frail frame. As for the Citroën DS; well to say the complicated suspension and hydraulics aren’t for the faint-hearted is an understatement. I’d go for something more bullet-proof - an MGB maybe with a Heritage bodyshell – to fend off the Taliban.

Mike Brewer’s The Wheeler Dealer Know How! £16.99 ISBN 978-1-845844-89-9 everything you need to know about buying, preparing and selling collectable cars. www.veloce.co.uk.
Top: Jaguar E-type. Ford Capri II. My sturdy MGB. Bottom - I tested military vehicles in my Gunner days. 8 (Alma) Field Battery Royal Artillery Daimler Ferret armoured car, like they used to build in what became the Jaguar factory in Browns Lane. That’s me in the turret.

Louis Renault

He may not have been everybody’s tasse de thė but the fate of Louis Renault seems to have been a little severe even by the standards of 1944. After founding the great automotive empire that bears his name, he was unfortunate enough to end his days in Fresnes prison and nobody is quite sure whether the death certificate was being completely frank in claiming it was just old age. He was exhumed 12 years later and they said it was probably pneumonia, but that wasn’t counting the broken neck.

The Affaire Renault was re-examined several times, and was the subject of a book in French by Jean-Paul Thevenet, which suggests that he was not so much a collaborator as merely imprudent, suffering the fate of many Frenchmen at the end of the war meeting his end at the hands of political enemies paying off old scores. The result, so far as France was concerned, was the creation of the Regie Renault with annual losses that reached £lbn in the 1960s.

Renault got into business with his brothers Marcel and Fernand in 1898, when he took the 1.75bhp engine off his De Dion Bouton tricycle and put it to better use in a four wheel car of his own (above). They set up in Billancourt, and between 1899 and 1901 won lots of town-to-town races. Louis was rather better than Marcel, not only winning more often, but managing to keep out of trouble on the 1903 Paris-Madrid in which Marcel got no further than Couhé-Vérac before being killed. (Marcel on the Paris-Madrid)

Fernand died in 1908 so Renault Frères became SA des Usines Renault with Louis in sole and somewhat autocratic charge. One of his engineers Maurice Herbster said he spoke little, made no jokes, didn’t smoke or drink indeed his only passion, apart from the factory was women, of which he seemed to enjoy a lot.

He hated administration, reduced offices to the minimum, and practically forbade tables and chairs, which he regarded only as an incitement to laziness and idle chat. Supervisors were allowed only a small desk on the factory floor with no chair. Where it was noisy they were allowed a box round the desk, but not big enough for two to stand and talk. Even the toilets were made small to discourage reading the paper.

Louis Renault was arrogant and obstinate. He disliked officialdom, and often quarrelled with it, for example when discussing with the army whether it should have 23 tonne or 13.5 tonne tanks. The army wanted the heavier, Renault favoured the lighter. “Je m’en fous, j’en fais un.” - I’ll make them anyway. And he did.

He was also imprudent. At the 1935 Berlin Motor Show he made no secret of his fascination with Hitler and the power he wielded. He had a two hour interview with The Führer which led to comment in France Soir. As late as 1938 he was talking to Hitler about entente between France and Germany, and was enthusing over the concept of the VW, which he wanted to adopt for France.
(Renault tank assembly - the Wehrmacht used thousands) (Reinastella of 1929, when Renault was up-market)
His reputation as a hard- liner with labour followed an ill-judged attempt to beat a strike in 1936. He tried to persuade the workers that he was going to plough the profits back into new plant and it was not in anyone’s interests to have pay rises or shorter hours. L’Humanité denounced him as an exploiter and he had to concede paid holidays, wage rises, and shorter hours.

Renault’s quarrel with the army was remembered in 1939 when Daladier, then Minister of Defence, bought trucks from the United States and Italy. His factories were requisitioned and in view of his suspected Nazi sympathies, he was dispatched to America. The image of Renault as pro-German was taking hold.

Following the occupation he was able to return and set up a tank repair service for the Germans. He was reinstated at Billancourt and the factory was geared for war production. Thevenet claims it was no more than his obsession with keeping things going that made him do it, but the left-wing movement in France, which made up the core of Resistance fighters, thought otherwise.
(Billancourt head office)
He made the mortal mistake of turning down the idea of a discreet Resistance cell within Billancourt. Told that De Gaulle, then leading the Free French from London, would like one, he remarked unforgivably, “De Gaulle, connais pas,” or roughly translated to modern English, “De Gaulle — Who he?”

Well into his 60s, Renault was now exhausted by the war. The Germans wanted more lorries, he didn’t want to be bombed again and suggested Renault trucks be made with Ford cabs to disguise them. He even tried to organise a strike, but the workforce refused, “Le Patron déraille” — the boss is unhinged.
(Bomb damage, Billancourt)
Following the Liberation, L’Humanité was after Renault again. It recalled the 1936 strike, and claimed that while France had been unable to make any weapons for itself, Renault had been producing them for the enemy since 1940. Under a new decree, L’Ordonnance sur Ia repression des faits de collaboration, L ‘Humanité demanded justice against traitors and profiteers of treason. An anonymous letter in the paper called for his arrest and the removal of his Grand Croix de la Legion d’Honneur.

The Berliet family had also been arrested and their truck factory taken over, De Gaulle managing to overcome his distaste for nationalisation by simply looking the other way. Louis Renault was taken to Fresnes prison “for his protection”, where he was guarded by the FTP resistance fighters, his traditional adversaries, not by the regular authorities. It was a brutal regime in Fresnes and his wife found him on several occasions suffering from beatings. By October 1944 he was seriously ill and two psychiatrists diagnosed senile dementia, yet there were inexplicable delays in getting him to hospital.

The official account of what happened to him is vague; the pages in the prison records dealing with Louis Renault are missing.

He died on October 24th.
(Post-war Quatre Cheveaux - the French were so keen on it they kidnapped the imprisoned Dr Porsche to help with the design)
Louis' family remained dissatisfied over the cause of death, and in 1956 his body was exhumed. Forensic evidence suggested pneumonia; there were no skull fractures even though his wife testified he had suffered severe head injuries. It was confirmed however, that there was a fracture of the cervical vertebra, consistent with a rabbit-punch to the back of the neck.

In 1949 an official enquiry found little evidence against Renault himself conceding that he had had little choice but to work for the Germans, and probably his worst fault was his obsession with his factory. A former colleague Fernand Picard observed wryly after Renault’s death, “He was hard, almost inhuman, he was so determined and his lifelong passion was the Usine Renault. Nothing else mattered to him.” Forty years later, he confided, “To have accused him of loving the Germans is absurd. Louis Renault never loved anyone.”
(Racing Renault. Later version of the 1906 grand prix car)

Historical anomaly

Speculation again over Jaguar reviving Daimler. Cars UK says the Chinese prefer something three-boxier than the XJ. Mandarins apparently like to sit in the back and the XJ rear is too cosy. Makes sense. Jaguar acquired Daimler in 1951 on being forbidden to extend its old factory at Foleshill, leased Browns Lane a wartime shadow factory still making Ferret armoured cars, so the move occupied most of 1951. This is me on the turret of 8 (Alma) Field Battery Royal Artillery's Ferret some time ago.

Daimler was an historical anomaly. Set up in England in 1893 by FR Simms to develop designs by Gottlieb Daimler, its Coventry Radford factory made Panhards based on Daimler’s patents, so British and German Daimler companies had little in common except Gottlieb Daimler as a director until 1898. After the Prince of Wales bought one in 1900, British-made Daimlers remained the choice of royals for the best part of half a century, despite the smokiness of Knight sleeve-valve engines. The Knight licence and overreaching itself financially were Daimler’s downfall and in 1910 it had to be rescued by Birmingham Small Arms (BSA), among whose directors was F Dudley Docker. One of Sir Ernest Shackleton’s sponsors (an upturned lifeboat named after him housed the expedition’s survivors), Docker’s interests ranged from firearms and motorcycles to railway rolling stock.

Daimlers of the 1930s were staid and not very fast but easy to drive, thanks to Wilson pre-selector gearboxes. Post-1945 the Conquest Century gave a good account of itself in saloon car races, a tribute to chassis engineering rather than power. The royal connection foundered following BSA chairman Dudley’s son Sir Bernard’s behaviour, and the gaudiness of Lady Docker’s limousines (Golden Zabra below) at Earls Court Motor Shows of the 1950s. The last straw was plastic-bodied SP250 sports cars of the 1960s, with a V8 designed by Edward Turner of Triumph motorcycles. He nearly developed an association with William Lyons in 1942, but the cars were not very good and renounced after the Jaguar takeover. Only the V8 engine survived.

Daimler independent production ended in 1968, lingering as Daimler versions of Jaguar saloons until the 1990s. Only the splendid DS420 limousine, based on a stretched Mark X remained, styled like the Docker Daimlers and a 1950s Empress Hooper. (Saloon below)

Browns Lane was given over to making Jaguars, the Radford factory survived until the 1990s but now both are gone and Jaguar is at another ex-wartime shadow factory, Castle Bromwich. Set up alongside an aerodrome by Morris Motors’ Nuffield Group in 1936 it made Spitfires and Lancasters. Control was quickly passed to Vickers-Armstrong and after the war it was taken over by Fisher and Ludlow, bombed-out of its own factory in Coventry. As Pressed Steel Fisher it became part of British Leyland, making bodies for Jaguar, which took it over completely in 1977. The aluminium XK is made there and it wouldn’t take much to make it a bit more upright, with a crinkly grille and a woody interior to match anything coming out of Stuttgart. The Chinese like their Deutsches Daimlers, so there is every reason to suppose they would take with equal enthusiasm to latter-day Dockery Daimlers.

Skoda Octavia

You can’t get away from class. We were a Wolseley family. The Vanden Plas Princess and the Armstrong Siddeley came later. We slipped downmarket with the Austin Sixteen in which I passed my driving test, but that was bought in 1948 or so, when cars were hard to come by. It was replaced by a Wolseley Six-Eighty. Not a notable success; its single ohc was unhappy with teenage over-revving but it looked classy with an upright radiator and wood facia. Wasn’t up to next-door’s Rover 14 maybe, but it was better than Austins, which were, by and large, bought by people who believed the Dependable slogan and were NQOC. Austins weren’t stylish but they were well made. Father was in steel and his metallurgist chums said Longbridge was fussy about the steel it was buying for gearboxes. He found that convincing.

Austin, Armstrong Siddeley, Vanden Plas and Wolseley; all, alas, gone. Yet class distinctions in cars remain. When I was road testing it helped make up your mind about cars once you had identified likely buyers - easy with BMWs. People who bought BMWs buyers got other BMW owners (like me) a bad name. Racy and aggressive they demanded cars that were fast and handled well. BMW buyers were fusspots so you set the road-holding bar higher for BMWs.

Ford buyers – difficult to avoid stereotyping. They were always cost-conscious high-mileage reps. Jaguar buyers went for style, refinement and prestige. They are no longer the same as the Jaguar buyers of our Wolseley years – Jaguars then were much too, well flashy really, like Uncle Bob, who had had Vauxhalls and then a black Jaguar with huge headlights and too much, so my mother thought, voluptuous curves and showy chrome.

Hyundai and Kia buyers now are connoisseurs of the long-distance warranty and born-again Austin buyers, looking for good metallurgy and unpretentious quality, buy Skodas. Dependable, regular, no nonsense solid worth, Skoda’s styling is derivative but the customers want it like that. Nothing radical; good proportions are more important than pretendy avant garde.

Skodas look modest just like Austins looked modest. They were styled by the unlikely Dick Burzi. Born in Buenos Aires, Ricardo Burzi joined Lancia in the 1920s. “Styling” was only beginning and he augmented his income drawing cartoons for newspapers, only to get into trouble for drawing some of the emerging Duce, Benito Mussolini. You couldn’t do that in Italy and Burzi had to flee.

Fortunately Vincenzo Lancia chanced to meet Herbert Austin on a liner, recommended him, and so the Italian-Argentinian joined Longbridge in 1929. His reponse to challenges proved variable. He was partly responsible for the splendid 1940s Sheerline and Princess, based on chief executive Leonard Lord’s Bentley, but he made 1945 Austins look like 1930s Chevrolets. His big solo effort, under instructions from Lord, was the ill-starred Austin A90 Atlantic.

Skoda (Octavia press launch above - my BMW behind) has avoided such flights of fancy. It knows its place, unlike the flagship VW Passat, which has got longer and sleeker. The cards in the Skoda pack have been shuffled, taking the Octavia a bit up-market and making it bigger, to accommodate the Rapid in a lower slot. Octavia is on VW’s MQB platform along with the Audi A3, Seat León and Mark 7 Golf and is temptingly priced at around £20,000, unless you specify lots of bells and whistles. It rides, handles and drives well. It isn’t fast, 11.5sec to 60mph, it is quite economical at about 45mpg without being super-frugal and qualifies as thoroughly worthy. Not faint praise for those old solid sensible dependable Austin customers.

Beaulieu


The National Motor Museum is 40. I first went to the rather ramshackle buildings of the former Montagu Motor Museum in the 1960s, and attended the opening of what seemed at the time a rather bizarre permanent home on 4 July 1972. (Although unaccountably missing from the picture of the Duke of Kent and Lord Montagu at the ceremony). Beaulieu has always had shortcomings. It has to pander to the cheap seats, with exhibitions of James Bond cars and “themes” that may not have much to do with motoring heritage. Yet you must allow for a certain commercial waywardness to ensure the turnstiles keep turning. There has to be sufficient income to sustain its exemplary research facilities and notable libraries. Beaulieu has a priceless collection of books and magazines, which it makes available equally to serious students and amateur researchers. It was also a favourite destination for small daughters who loved the rides and the model trains (below).

Notably Beaulieu works with exemplary grace. The library (pictured with the Duke now), under Caroline Johnson, is staffed with the politest and most patient people in the business. Stephen Vokins, the film and video archivist is a fund of knowledge, and public relations officer Margaret Rowles has the unique distinction among PROs of always seeming pleased to hear from you. I know similar libraries and collections who work on the principle that they are places for keeping things in, and not ever allowing anything out. Beaulieu, by contrast, is a triumph of communication. I have commented before on its Friends’ Newsletter, which is a modest publication, yet invariably has an enthusiastically written item containing something you didn’t know before. Happy Christmas Beaulieu, and double congratulations on being chosen as Museum or Collection of the Year, gaining a Lifetime Achievement Award for Lord Montagu.