1960s British Cars Archives - CARS // MOTORBIKES

Daimler SP250 Dart

When first seen – at the ’59 NY Motor Show – the Daimler Dart was derided as an ugly duckling. The consensus was that the fins looked dated, the headlamps bug-eyed – and the grille a bit … well, fishy! Over time, though, qualms over the SP250’s styling subsided. Daimler was on a downswing in the late Fifties. New management sought to remedy that – by emulating Jaguar, Triumph and MG. Daimler, too, would produce a sports car for the American market. The potential problem was that Daimler lacked experience with sports cars. Indeed, the Dart was the only one the marque made. To get the ball rolling, it used the chassis and suspension set-up from the Triumph TR3. After that, Daimler turned to the bodywork. Which is when things started to go awry. The glassfibre shell Daimler designed seemed fine. Until the going got a bit rough – at which point the doors were liable to fly open! The writing was on the wall for the Dart as early as 1960. Jaguar then took over the SP250 project. Sir William Lyons was the new CEO. As well as being a top-flight manager, he was a stylist of high repute. Sadly, Lyons and the Dart did not see eye to eye. Its unwieldy form upset his creative sensibilities. One of them had to go. It would not be Lyons!

Prior to the Jaguar takeover, Edward Turner was managing director at Daimler. Before that, he had worked at Triumph – in its motorcycle division. His engine design work there had achieved widespread acclaim. Indeed, in the bike world, he was legendary. Some of that had rubbed off on the Dart. Indeed – courtesy of Turner – its motor was pretty much flawless. Torquey but smooth, it catapulted the lightweight Dart to a top speed of 125mph. 0-60 took 9.5s. The engine’s hemispherical combustion chambers – and twin SU carburettors – were key to its performance. Plus, the SP250 returned a respectable 25mpg. Best of both worlds, basically. Brakes-wise, a full set of Dunlop discs were fitted.

In a bid to drive up US sales, attempts were made to upgrade the Dart. It was given a stiffer chassis and bumpers – as well as a few more creature comforts than it had previously provided. From a marketing perspective, the SP250 was pitched between the cheaper Triumph TR and MGs – and the more expensive Jaguar XK150. 2,644 SP250s were built. Production ceased in ’64. The ugly duckling never did morph into a graceful swan. But, beauty is in the eye of the beholder – and Daimler Dart fans loved it all the same!

Rover P5

The Rover P5 was private transport of the highest order. For years, it ferried the great and the good about their well-heeled business. Government ministers – and top civil servants – put down their attaché cases and relaxed on its sumptuous seats. Security picked up the purr of its engine, as one – whether at Downing Street, Parliament or Buckingham Palace. So, on state occasions, the four-wheeled presence of Rover P5s was a given.

The P5 was impeccably styled by David Bache. It was so-named because it was ‘post-war design number 5’. Its exterior was the pinnacle of saloon car sophistication. Sober lines – and toned-down hues – exuded due gravitas. The interior, too, was quality incarnate. The materials used said it all. The dash was fashioned from African cherry wood. The carpet was Wilton. Seats were, of course, luxury leather. To all intents and purposes, the P5 was a banqueting-room on wheels. The pliancy of its ride echoed the subtlety of its styling. The P4’s separate chassis was now history.

On the surface, the P5 was the quintessence of Englishness. From ’67 on, however, the US lay beneath – in the form of a 3.5-litre Buick engine. It brought some much-needed speed to the P5 package. No more running late for those executive meetings. Previously, the P5 had been powered by a 3-litre motor. Buick’s V8 made 185bhp. The P5’s top speed climbed to 110mph. The powerplant was sourced from parent company GM. Rover got it at a discount – since it had become surplus to requirements. The gearbox was 3-speed auto. Thoughtfully, Rover provided a toolkit – albeit, somewhat basic. It was discreetly tucked away in the dashboard. Not that the P5’s passengers would have had much of a clue what to do with it! Many of the key decisions of our times were made with the help of the P5. Many a soirée could not have happened without it. In motoring terms, society’s crème de la crème had never had it so good. We must be forever grateful, then, to the Rover P5 … I think!

MGB

Among other cars, footballer George Best drove an MGB. A man synonymous with style – in both the Sixties and Seventies – he doubtless took the odd Miss World or two out for a spin in it. He would have needed to watch out, though, for his glamorous passengers. The MGB’s handling was no match for Best’s dynamic dribbling skills! Suspension and steering parts – as well as its live axle – were stock BMC items. In other words – manoeuvrability-wise – they were nothing to write home about. In a straight line, however, things MGB were much improved. Top speed was a creditable 106mph. With the top down, Best – and his busty companions – would certainly have felt the breeze blowing through their Vidal Sassoon-sorted locks. At one point, more than 50,000 MGBs per annum were passing through the Abingdon factory gates. Add another nought to that figure, and you have total sales for the MGB. More than half a million were shifted – between ’62 and ’80. Numbers like that make it one of the best-selling sports cars ever!

Safe to say, then, the MGB’s success was due mainly to its lithe good looks. Technically, it was no great shakes. Nonetheless, it was an improvement on its predecessor. The MGA’s hefty separate chassis had been ditched – hopefully, not literally – for a lighter unit-construction item. The MGB scored well, too, in terms of torque. There was a rip-roaring 110lb/ft of the stuff – and at just 3,000rpm.

It was in the design department, though, that the MGB shone. Its seductively low lines were drawn with stunning simplicity. The car was inherently aerodynamic. Were it not for its small-scale four-cylinder engine, it would have gone a whole lot quicker. For a sports car – even in the ’60s – 95bhp was no more than middling. That said – taken in the round – the MGB embodied the best of British motoring. Obviously, Georgie thought so – or, he would not have spent his hard-earned money on one. No doubt, Miss World agreed. End of the day – if it was good enough for the Belfast boy – it must have been the best!

Gordon-Keeble

The Gordon-Keeble was named after its makers. John Gordon and Jim Keeble founded the firm. Unfortunately, the car substantially under-achieved. On paper, an American V8 engine, plus a British chassis, plus Italian styling, should have equalled plenty of sales. It did not. The Gordon-Keeble entered production in ’64. By the end of the following year, only 80 had been built. By ’67 – the end of its run – that figure had risen to a paltry 99. Poor parts supply – and under-funding – were to blame.

The Gordon-Keeble was powered by a V8 – courtesy of the Chevrolet Corvette. It produced 300bhp. Top speed was 135mph. The Gordon-Keeble hit 70 in first gear alone. Unsurprisingly, the motor was enclosed in a lightweight glassfibre shell. It was designed by the great Giorgetto Giugiaro. He was just 21 when he penned the Gordon-Keeble’s lines. Even by that tender age, he was lead stylist at Bertone. Later, he joined Ghia. Then, in ’67, Giugiaro started up his own studio – Italdesign. For Gordon-Keeble to have attracted talent such as his, was a beautifully-proportioned feather in the company cap. The car’s delicately-slanted headlamps were just one of the styling subtleties Giugiaro brought to bear. Beneath his bodywork was a square-section space-frame chassis. It incorporated a DeDion rear axle. Lashings of torque were ladled out to it by a 4-speed ‘box.

The Gordon-Keeble factory was at an airport – near Southampton, England. It seemed like some of that aeronautical ambience rubbed off on the car. Certainly, its dashboard looked like it would be equally at home in a jet-plane. It was made up of a small multitude of toggle switches. In pride of place on the factory façade was a small sign – which spoke volumes. ‘The car built to aircraft standards’, it said. Sadly, though – in the annals of automotive success stories – the Gordon-Keeble was one of those that got away!

Marcos GT

More than most manufacturers, Marcos encapsulated English eccentricity. That was amply demonstrated by a succession of GT cars. ‘Marcos’ was an amalgam of the names of the two founders – Jem Marsh and Frank Costin. The new firm’s first product was a sports car – built mainly from wood. The race version was a stellar success. Jackie Stewart launched his career in one. Which possibly points to where Stewart first got a taste for ‘health and safety’ within the sport! From that ornate creation emerged the classic Marcos sports car. It was to see several shape shifts over the years. The formative lines were drawn by Dennis and Peter Adams. Unveiled in ’64, the Marcos wowed London’s Earls Court Racing Car Show. This time, the bodywork was fashioned from glass fibre – cutting edge, then, in every sense. Its chassis, though, still stood by wood. Suspension-wise, that first Marcos was fitted with Triumph wishbones at the front – and de Dion and Triumph arms at the rear. A Ford live-axle set-up followed in due course. Over time, Ford, Volvo and Triumph engines would be installed. So, it was already apparent that Marcos did not do predictable!

Marcos and motor racing go way back. In ’66, a ‘Mini-Marcos’ hybrid was the sole British entry to complete that year’s Le Mans 24-hour race. Equipped with its Mini motor, the Marcos car was cheap to campaign. Incredibly, one could still be sourced new right up to ’94. Two of Marcos’ Le Mans cars were aptly code-named the LM500 and LM600. Launched in ’94, they marked Marcos’ return to the famous French circuit.

The Seventies got off to a good start for Marcos. The mythical Mantis was released. As the decade wore on, though, the firm was much less visible. Indeed, it fell to Jem Marsh to keep the servicing and parts departments open. ’81, though, saw a Marcos resurgence. Power was supplied by Ford. With not a lot happening on the sports car scene at the time, Marcos’ revival was a shot in the arm not just for the marque, but the industry. 1983’s Marcos Mantula – powered by a Rover V8 – was a hit in the showrooms. Yet more plaudits followed two years later – with the arrival of the Spyder. Marcos moved into the ’90s with the Mantara – which saw a styling revamp. The Adams brothers’ original curves were still there – but suitably updated. ’97 saw a new model Mantis. Thanks to its Ford V8 engine, the Mantis GT thundered around race-tracks at more than 170mph. While Marcos were definitely ‘different’, those in the know have never taken the marque less than seriously. Certainly, many an eyebrow has been raised by a Marcos GT car over the years. Though one cannot help but suspect that was always part of the Marsh/Costin game-plan!

Sunbeam Tiger

The Sunbeam Tiger was an Anglo-American hybrid. Built in West Bromwich, England, its roots were in Detroit, Michigan. Aptly, then, Rootes was Sunbeam’s parent company! At least, until Chrysler took it over. In essence, the Sunbeam Tiger was a Sunbeam Alpine – but with a Ford V8 fitted. Carroll Shelby – he of AC Cobra fame – did early development work on the Tiger. Shelby then passed it to Rootes. The car’s 4.2-litre engine was hooked up to a ‘top loader’ 4-speed gearbox. In turn, a more substantial final drive was installed. The body shell, too, was beefed up. But – with so much on its plate – Rootes was over-stretched. It still had the Sunbeam Alpine in production, too. Riding to Rootes’ rescue came Jensen. Their premises were but a stone’s throw away from Rootes’ factory gates. It fell to Jensen to finish the Tiger project.

Power output for the Tiger was 164bhp. Top speed stood at 117mph. 0-60 came up in 9.5s. Torque – from the Ford V8 – was plentiful, to say the least. Care, though, was required in transferring it to the tarmac. Both steering and suspension were suspect. But – all in all – the Tiger was good value for money. Americans bought it in their droves. British buyers did the same. However, they had to wait a year longer.

So, things were looking good for the Sunbeam Tiger. Until Chrysler’s buy-out of Rootes! Chrysler’s top brass took an immediate dislike to the car – mainly, on account of its V8 motor. It was, after all, made by Ford! Which would have been fine – had Chrysler had their own V8. Actually, they did. Unfortunately, it did not fit! Sadly, that was the writing on the Tiger’s wall. But, all was not lost! Rootes had already built 571 MkII Tigers – complete with 4.7-litre Mustang motors. The Sunbeam Tiger was set to stroll into a few more sunsets yet!

Lotus Europa

For all its power, the Lotus Europa was a sports car – not an F1 car! Yet – at least, up to a point – that was its raison d’être. Colin Chapman – head man at Lotus – wanted a roadster that handled like a racer. At any rate, he sought to simulate the mid-engined layout – now de rigueur in F1. Certainly, at just 42″ tall – and with a drag coefficient of only 0.29 – the Europa’s aerodynamic credentials were never in doubt.

The new car started out as the Lotus Europe. Trademark problems led to it being re-named the Europa. Handling-wise, the car was everything Chapman had hoped for. Road-test reviews were upbeat – at least as far as cornering was concerned. Steering was light – and the Europa perfectly poised. Key to the stability was rear suspension. It was comprised of lower wishbones and transverse top links. The Europa’s laid-back driving position made sweeping through bends a breeze. Brakes were suitably solid.

But, the Europa was not without flaws. Creature comforts were in short supply. And, with a heavy clutch – and jarring ride – the Europa was far from user-friendly. Side-window gremlins did not help. Rear vision – or lack of it – was not exactly a selling-point. To be fair, Lotus did address the issues. The Europa was given a mini-makeover. Built in Hethel, Norfolk, the car stayed in production until ’75. Almost 10,000 Europas were built – in a nine-year run. Its goal, then, was to bring F1-style handling to the roads of the UK. And – while that was, for a sports car, an impossible dream – it came as close to living it as any!

Ford Capri

The Ford Capri was European sibling to the mighty Mustang – a massive seller in the US. In essence, the Capri was a standard 4-seater GT. There would be many a variation on that theme, however … enough to give a spare-parts dealer palpitations! The Capri was manufactured in GB and West Germany. The first model came with the same 1.3-litre in-line four engine as the Ford Escort. In the UK, there were 1.6- and 2.0-litre V4 options. Add to that, a 3.0-litre V6. Germany weighed in with 1.7- and 2.3-litre versions. Stock-taking was already getting complicated. And that was before the cornucopia of trim options kicked in!

The entry-level Capri was the L. The XL was mid-range. At the top of the heap were the GT – and luxury GXL. Thankfully, the body shell was interchangeable. So were the struts – and beam rear axle. There were more parts choices, though, when it came to the 4-speed gearbox. Bigger engines had auto transmission as an option. All Capris had disc brakes up front – and drums at the rear. Rack-and-pinion steering, too, was standard – except for some of the 3.0-litre models, which were power-assisted.

Many a Capri was campaigned as a tin-top racer – often, with much success. They derived from a set of souped-up roadsters. The RS2600 Mk1, for example, was a German homologation special. It came with a fuel-injected 150bhp V6 … courtesy of top tuner Harry Weslake. In ’73, the British-built 3100 appeared – again, built for race homologation purposes. With its Weber carburettor – and over-bored V6 – it made 148bhp. These performance car Capris featured fat alloy wheels and quarter bumpers. The 3100 sported a duck-tail spoiler. Most sought-after of all, however, was the Capri 280 Brooklands LE. Ironically, it was one of the German-built cars! Nonetheless, with its swish leather seats – and British racing green paint – it was a fitting finale to the Ford Capri story. And – as for those overworked spares departments – it is just a shame databases were still in their infancy, at the time!