Andrew Roberts - Suffering From the Benz

Contributor Andrew Roberts decided to sell his humdrum Volvo and splash out on an old Mercedes-Benz. Sensible? No, not really... 

Since I last wrote about my fleet, my Volvo 760GLE passed its MoT, needing only a set of new tyres. As an everyday car that was comfortable, generally reliable, and very capacious it had certainly served its purpose but, after a year of ownership, I was wondering if I really needed it.

Most of my non-classic work involves commuting to London by train, and my stepchildren are now grown up, so a large estate is not as advantageous as it once was. The Volvo was one of those cars that was bought for a purpose  which no longer exists, leaving me with a large and fairly thirsty vehicle that is not exactly the last word in charisma. So, what I really needed was something sensible – something small, cheap and economical.

I still miss my old Mercedes-Benz S-class of the W126 persuasion that I sold in 2013, and once the 760 had been despatched to a fellow classic car enthusiast in the New Forest, I acquired, for a very reasonable sum (£1300) a 1989 Mercedes- Benz 300SE. The vendor, Anwarul Haque, was clearly very sad to see it go but, as he has other vehicles to worry about, including a rather magnificent Honda Legend Coupé, I did not feel overly guilty.

Interior is restrained yet opulent. The steering wheel is known to go straight.

A few minor idiosyncrasies were pointed out to me – the central locking functions only on the front passenger door and opening the sunroof can cause major disruptions to the headlining – but this is rather a lot of motor car for not a lot of money.

And so it was time to return from North London to the badlands of Peterborough, in the company of my intrepid co-driver Nick Larkin. We both agreed that this M-B lent distinction to the roads even if its parking brake mechanism takes a little acclimatising  and the car’s sheer width can seem quite disconcerting in town. But on the A1(M), the 300SE was in its element, speeding past other cars with verve and aplomb.

There was even a cruise control, a device that Mr Larkin and myself vowed not to use until we had the car’s full measure and were no longer confused by the combined indicator/wiper/
headlamp flash stalk.

I can report that the heater is magnificent – and who could resist ivory coloured leather trim? Then, it was time for the last leg of the journey, a trip to my new home in Oxfordshire and here the 300SE proved utterly adept at tackling rural B-road bends and totally unsuited to picturesque market town high streets.

 The charming settlement of Sonning proved a particularly interesting experience when enjoining a narrow road filled with very expensive (although none with the elegance of the W126) and very bulky parked Hedge Fund wagons. 

We then approached a mist shrouded bridge that looked even narrower – ideal for negotiating in the dark with a large, wide and heavy 25-year-old car.

That engine bay is certainly packed full... 

But we finally made it to terra firma (actually just outside Reading) and with only £30 spent on fuel – although this was really due to Anwarul kindly providing half a tank of precious petrol.

In short, I do like the 300SE and after New Year, I plan to treat it to a paint refurbishment. It will not be used for London commuting but I do envisage a future for it as a classic for longer journeys.

As for my VDP Princess 4-Litre R, this is due for MoT (it has been treated to some new front dampers and a brake refurbishment) but that will be the extent of my fleet.

The BMC car speaks to my ‘cultural leanings’, such as they are, but it is good to have a machine of a more recent vintage (and one fitted with a decent heater) for bouts of winter motoring.

Two such fine cars is plenty and, after 12 years of writing about classics, my new motto is the Orwellian ‘less is more’.

How to Spend £200 on Shortbread - Use a Mercedes-Benz

Calum is sent packing back to his homeland, with the instruction to acquire a Scottish delicacy for CCW editor Keith Adams. And not to break CCW's big Merc barge while getting there. 

Words: Calum Brown
Pictures: Colin Brown

I was originally apprehensive about taking the S280 to Scotland, due to its temperamental behaviour with Murray Scullion and David Simister on the continent, but this was an exceptional assignment.

Editor Keith Adams required the very finest shortbread, for reasons never quite explained, which can be found on Tennant Street in Edinburgh. Being from that neck of the woods, I couldn’t let him settle for anything less. And, as usual, all my cars were broken.

So, with all the Mercedes’ maladies listed to me – the lack of kickdown, the intoxicating stench of petrol, the Skynet-style immobiliser that seemed to be self-aware – I set off for the motherland with a sixth of a tank of Peterborough’s finest petrol.

Naturally, this didn’t get me very far, about 30 miles to be exact. So with the threat of an immobiliser likely to leave me blocking off a petrol station while awaiting the AA, I gingerly pulled in to brim the mammoth tank and ensure my arrival in Lothian.

I would be lying if I said, after £80 came and went, I didn’t check underneath to see if petrol was pouring out the bottom. As it turned out, the tank was ridiculously huge.

Then I cried a little while coughing up 90 quid to the wide-eyed cashier. Despite the Merc’s already daunting reputation, the distance north was lapped up in serene comfort. The cruise control worked, the CD player operated without issue and turning on the air conditioning and sliding the double glazed windows into place easily masked the  weird grinding noises from the rear axle. I was expecting a monumental breakdown of epic proportions, but instead the journey up to Edinburgh was uneventful.

The only issue was Murray’s choice in music. I’m not sure exactly who The Schytts are, but I never want to listen to them again. The real fun began arriving at my parents for the night, as the Range Rover-bashing farm track loomed. Yet, with impressive ground clearance higher than Keith Richards in his heyday and a ride more comfortable than Fred Goodwin’s retirement fund, it dispatched the rutted track with considerable ease.

Parking up alongside the family Land Rovers in an S-class led to confused looks from my parents. They probably wondered why a lowlevel Swiss banker or a dishevelled drug dealer had arrived - or worse still, an automotive journalist from Modern Classics. And, in a completely new experience, I had  turned up without a trail of oil and fire in my wake too.

I set off early the next day to track down the perfect shortbread, venturing deep into Edinburgh with the fuel-guzzling, 17ft long colossus enjoying every minute. The engine seemed to relish every blip of the  slab-sized throttle and, after finding the best culinary treats Scotland had to offer and placing them in a boot larger than my first flat, I deliberately got lost just to flounce around in the German first-class lounge on wheels.

I spent so much time slicing through Lothian’s back roads, that I received a phone call around 11pm asking me to pick my mother and her friend up from a night out. What better car to do that with than an S-class? I arrived to a scene straight out of Absolutely Fabulous. My mother was half cut, while her friend, Debbie McLarty, had somehow managed to bring her very large dog along. Country life, and all that.

After dropping Debbie off, myself and the Patsy Stone Tribute Act set off for home with murmurs of ‘Why are there so many corners? I feel sick.’ Needless to say, the comfort prevented any vomiting action. 

Departing home for Peterborough on Sunday morning, the voyage down south was effortless. I arrived seven hours later without so much as a backache or technical problem. Proof then that, if you treat the Panzer limousine with respect, it’ll see you through.

I can see why the allure of a £500 S280 was too much for Murray to ignore. With no issues to report, the Mercedes did a stirling job and the shortbread handover went without a hitch. However, I did live in constant fear of the immobiliser. And hearing Murray’s CD again.

People at the very top, leaders of international conglomerates and the world’s richest countries, have travelled by S-class. And now, I can say that I have too. Albeit it, at the cost of three tanks of fuel over 800 miles - well over £200. You’ll now find me selling my internal organs on the black market in order to gain some money back.

On another note, Keith, you still owe me for your shortbread... 

Epic Battle: BMW M6 vs Jaguar XJS

Four decades after its launch, BMW’s 6-series is now an affordable coupé. We pitch it against the Jaguar XJ-S to find out which rules the roost. 

Words: David Simister
Pictures: Stuart Collins

What a cruel birthday party this has turned out to be. We could have congratulated the 6-series on reaching the ripe old age of 40 by treating it to a few glasses of Director’s bitter at a nearby pub, or sent it on a genteel weekend lolloping around the Cotswolds.

But instead we’ve lined up BMW’s coupé masterstroke against its old foe from across the North Sea – Jaguar’s XJ-S. During the late Eighties this Anglo-German battle played out in reserved parking spaces and outside golf clubs the world over, not to mention the top lane of the motorway, as well-heeled managing directors toyed over which two-door slice of lavishly equipped grand tourer was best at gobbling up long stretches of motorway and  twisty country roads in equal measure.

The great news is that what were flights of fantasy for most motorists when new are fantastic value for money today, with 10 grand being all it takes to secure a first class ticket at the helm of a BMW 6-Series or a Jaguar XJ-S.

Each is still capable of turning a long journey into a leather-lined adventure, but the big Brit and the German ’bahnstormer tackle the task in very different ways. Obviously we’ve given both contenders a fighting chance – the 6-series we’ve picked is the range-topping M635 CSi, while Coventry’s finest comes with the full-fat V12.

Many happy returns, BMW – but we’re still about to let battle commence.

On the Road

It might be the BMW’s birthday bash, but you know even before you twist its ignition key that you – as the driver – are its guest of honour.

The centre console leans out from the rest of the dashboard and virtually hands its Blaupunkt cassette player and heater controls to you, and not to whomsoever landed the passenger spot. Not that they’ll be complaining much. Both seats are firm but lavishly trimmed, and go about their business on electrically guided motors, and there’s plenty of space behind for two of your more amply proportioned pals.

Once you’ve finished playing with the seat motors you’ll discover the driving position’s spot on; you sit low, but the visibility’s superb, the pedals ideally placed and you’re afforded a clear view of the white-on-black speedometer and rev counter through the thin-rimmed three-spoke steering wheel.

It’s all very logically laid out with a minimum of visual clutter to distract you from the job in hand, although the Connect Four-esque panel of warning lights to the right hand side hasn’t dated as well as the rest of the cabin. Buy an ailing 6-series and you’ll be forever staring at it. Far more intriguing is the tiny swoosh of M-Power stripes at the bottom of the steering wheel – the only real dash of colour in a sea of grey and cream, which along with the miniscule ‘M’ logo on the gearknob is the only initial clue that this is no ordinary 6-series. 

Until you fire up the M1-derived straight six, that is. From the off it delivers a smooth but urgent bark that lets you know it means business, and when you’re on the move it quickly becomes apparent it wants to be a sort of roadgoing PA; it’ll do great things, but on the strict understanding you’re the boss.

Ask it to deliver some straight-line shove and it’ll gently remind you that you need to stir its beautifully accurate five-speeder into action so you can unwrap the middle reaches of the rev range, where the real torque resides. Pin your right foot into the BMW’s carpet at just above 3000rpm and you’re treated to a delightful burst of brisk of acceleration, but it’s another 1000rpm north of that when the straight six really wakes up. Stick with it and change up and the surge just keeps coming, giving no indication that its relentlessness will abate anywhere on the car’s journey well into three-figure speeds.

Nor is it a machine that attempts to channel out the important information by smothering you in layer after layer of ride comfort. Sure, its Bilstein gas dampers do a commendable job of ensuring the potholes and bumps don’t spoil your afternoon, but there’s no way around the fact the springs are 15% stiffer than they are in the M-free 635CSi and that the ride height is half an inch lower.

As a result you feel the truly nasty stints of the terra firma outside as subtle jolts through the  seat of your pants, but the trade-off is superbly composed handling. Team it up with steering that’s power assisted but still more than happy to throw plenty of feedback to your palms and you end up with a GT car that you can place happily into corners knowing where the doublekidney grille and blue and white propeller are going to be pointing on the way out. It’s an M-car created with comfort in mind, but with a supercar’s heart and suspension to match.

But the XJ-S begs to differ. The trick it’s made its shtick is to shrink long journeys into brief blasts and to wave any unnerving bends with one wave of its supple suspension wand – but it’s firmly of the belief that discomfort, even of the minor variety, shouldn’t be part of the act.

Stepping into it from the CSi is like swapping a Canary Wharf boardroom for the sort of drawing room the National Trust would be proud of. The plump leather throne up front actively encourages you to slouch, and the narrower window apertures make the Jaguar’s cabin feel like a more cocooned and somehow safer environment. Once you’ve pulled the sumptuously padded door behind you the outside world might as well be in a different county, not a few feet away.

It’s an impression carried on by the V12 beyond that vast bonnet, which you can hear gently rumble into life but then virtually disappear as soon as you’ve started it up. It only  re-emerges when you prod the accelerator to ask it for some more torque, and even then it’s only a soft, delicate note to remind you it’s there.

The two have virtually the same power but the Jaguar uses its extra six cylinders and 1.8 litres – think of it as having an entire Mazda MX-3 above and beyond the BMW’s engine – to make life easier rather than add outright thump.

The torque is lower down the rev range and more instantly available when you’re looking for an overtake, and it’s accessed via a three-speed auto operated by a spindly shifter that actively discourages hurried changes. Yes, the XJ-S might have been available with a five-speed manual, but it’s hard to imagine being able to make progress any more smoothly with it.

You’ll notice the biggest difference when the countryside plants a bend or two between you and the XJ-S’s destination. While the BMW is happy to let you feel a few bumps in exchange for its handling, the Jaguar’s insistence on being the comfiest cruiser in town means it’ll wallow through the same corners. And while there are messages being delivered to your fingertips through the steering they’re smothered by a system that majors on lightness and ease.

The wafty Jaguar offers smooth, silent comfort while the sportier BMW actively involves you in the experience. Each is a great grand tourer, but there has to be a winner here.

I’ll take the Jaguar home. Um, happy 40th BMW... 

Cars Worth Saving: The Austin Ambassador (Y-Reg, Naturally).

The Ambassador is a Princess you can enter from the rear. Austin’s much-mocked Princess model may have offered a comfortable ride and distinctive styling, but it never took off for one main reason - it was a saloon in a practical hatchback market. The Austin Ambassador addressed the practicality issue, but it was all too late. On the verge of extinction, here’s why you should save one.

Words: Calum Brown
Pictures: James Walshe

Often dubbed ‘the car with no name’, launched as a series of three models by Morris, Wolseley and Austin, the Princess was nothing short of controversial upon launch. It was styled like nothing else and promised things no other manufacturer had assured the public about. Sadly, these promises went unfulfilled and the usual British Leyland political melting-pot image branded the Princess an undesirable failure. 

Yet, over a six-year production run almost quarter of a million vehicles found owners. It even developed cult status and is currently enjoyed within classic car circles by those who appreciate the innovation lurking under that arresting figure. However, its replacement - the Austin Ambassador - is yet to find its true place.  And there are numerous reasons for that. 

To address the European market and demands from target customers, British Leyland budgeted £29 million towards facelifting the Princess, which should have yielded a Renault 20 rival to bring UK motoring back from the brink. Yet, in transforming the charismatic Princess towards the public hatchback hungry vision, all charisma and feel was lost. 

Venturing free from the most turbulent striking period in their history, build quality of the Ambassador was no less than shocking, with no left-hand drive conversion for the European market it was aiming for and a ‘range’ of engines that allowed the choice of 1.7-litre lethargic petrol, slightly larger 2.0-litre lethargic petrol or twin-carb 2.0-litre slightly less lethargic petrol.

Nought to 60mph times were woeful unless you went for the top of the range Vanden Plas -and even then cracking 100mph was dangerous. Reaching 60mph took a grand total of 14 seconds. In the era of the Ford Sierra this was so out dated it left Bernard Manning's rantings feeling fresh. Handling wasn’t overly great either, with steering components offering all the feedback of damp cardboard. The new corporate nose didn’t give any aerodynamic benefit over the original face worn by the Princess before it, either - leaving the Ambassador a flaky, badly built, awkwardly styled relic with underpinnings dating back nearly two decades.

However, while viewed as a failure of epic proportions by many, the amount of preparation and thought on cash-strapped BLs behalf was creditable. Over the short-lived two-year production run close to 50,000 were manufactured and sold - which in rather incredible, taking the cars purpose into mind.  In relative terms, it actually out-sold the Princess in relation to time on sale. 

Launched upon the prospect that continuing with the Austin Maxi as the flag-ship five-door was out-dated and pointless, with the Princess not practical enough to take the premium spot and the Montego still two years off, the tweaked Austin Ambassador was the product concocted to fill the stopgap.

It may have been stripped of the plush aspects gifted to the Princess, such as the leather steering wheel, swanky armrests and silky six-cylinder engine, but contrary to belief it wasn’t just slightly new stuff in a Princess shell. According to Austin-Rover at least, the only body panels carried across were the inner front door skins. Regardless, the aged design appeared to turn potential customers away - especially as the trendy Sierra was so fresh on the market. 

This was unfair on the Ambassador, as it actually had various benefits to offer. It provided electric windows and central locking - rather splendid for the time - alongside acres of interior space, a humongous tailgate for carting about large objects and comfort levels to rival those used to business class when in transit. It offered a relaxed stance on the road, too.

While heaped with criticism and a stern source of amusement - Not The 9o’Clock News included a sketch where it was built by people only called Robert (a play on the advertising campaign of 'Handbuilt By Robots', alongside John Shuttleworth’s irritatingly catchy song ‘Austin Ambassador Y-Reg’ - finding an Austin Ambassador for sale used to cost mere pennies, and they made for decent everyday cars. Finding one nowadays is near impossible, but if you should then you should save it. 

Just like the Marina, Princess and Allegro before it - the Ambassador is a prime slice of British automotive history. With an estimated 60 examples still left in existence, surely it’s time for the Ambassador to claw back some respect. After all, it did what it was designed for perfectly.

Can You Buy A Car Cheaper Than A Train Ticket?

CCFS's Calum Brown is on a mission, even if it was agreed after numerous pints in the pub. Can you purchase a car cheaper than a train ticket, and beat it to your destination? 

Words: Calum Brown
Photography: Stephanie Graham and Richard Gunn

No one likes taking the train. They’re clearly lying if they say otherwise. Or on mind-altering drugs. Besides suffering the aggravation of shouty, spoilt children, the nose-curling stench of cheap cleaning products and being subjected to cackling groups of yobbos discussing post-watershed topics, your journey is dictated by a time schedule as vague as Nicolas Cage’s face.

This perception caused some friction, however, in a drunken argument I recently had in my local – can a car beat a train? I agreed to take on the challenge.

The chosen route was CCW’s hometown of Peterborough to Stranraer in Scotland. The rules were simple: I had to buy a car and cover the insurance and fuel for the return journey with the money left over from the ticket price. The amount I had to play with totalled a paltry £243. 

Searching the classifieds yielded a ropey-looking Peugeot 406 1.9 diesel for £160. Legendary for using little to no fuel, it felt like a winner. Day insurance cover robbed £30 from my budget, leaving £53 for diesel funds to cover 800 miles. Boy, fuel was going to tight. 

Setting off from Peterborough station at 08:16 – at the same time as the train – Team Peugeot battled out of rush hour Peterborough in search of the A1, only for a plume of steam to billow out from under the bonnet. Investigation revealed that the connecting pipes at the base of the radiator had split.

Relieving a nearby petrol station of all of its two-litre bottles of water, I plugged on regardless. Half an hour had elapsed by the time my giant kettle had rejoined the A1, but the mood inside was still calm and collected – because the ageing 406 had a trump card. The train had to commute via Glasgow and Ayr, but the Pug could cut cross the A66 before turning off the M74 towards Dumfries – cutting a whopping 90 miles off the train’s journey. Game on.

Calum's Aunt and Uncle, who have experience with mechanicals, gave the Pug a thumbs down. 

The coolant warning light blared red – despite having covered it with masking tape to distract myself from the issue – whenever the radiator divested itself of water, but luckily, the fuel consumption rate wasn’t as ferocious – roughly 50mpg at a steady 55mph.

Passing the Scottish border and pushing on into Dumfries and Galloway, the fuel gauge wasn’t budging and the mileage towards Stranraer was shrinking with every passing road sign.

Then with just half a mile to go, I spotted the railway line – and saw that there was a train on it. In the ensuing panicked rush to the finish, the Peugeot hit the first of several speed humps so hard that it landed with a crash violent enough to cause the boot to fly open and fire my tools out onto the ground.

With the ABS refusing to work on the soaking wet road, I slid the 406 to a halt and legged it towards the platform in the lashing rain, slipping on the pavement and cutting myself open on the railings in the process – only to discover, holding my arm to stop myself leaving a trail of blood behind me, that the train I’d spotted wasn’t, in fact, the one I was racing – that one was still a good hour and a half away.

Arriving at Stranraer train station, Calum managed to cut himself open. At least the car was unscathed... 

I couldn’t help but relish the victory – right up to the point when the radiator burst completely. Spraying coolant onto the ground as though someone was emptying a bucket. But it didn’t matter – a Franco-Scottish alliance of man and machine had just beaten the might of the railway network.

Then I remembered that I had to make it home again to win the bet...
 

With the rampant acceleration of a slug in a bag, and stuck at 55mph to conserve fuel, the journey's atmosphere is echoed in Calum's face. 

With water seeping out of radiator pipes at an alarming rate despite refilling the beast with fluid - including some blood -  and only a third of a tank left in the half-dead 406 1.9TD GLX, the journey back from Stranraer to Peterborough did not appear an attractive prospect.

So far, although the Pug had been behaving itself, the experience had been just the other side of pleasant. Now, despite beating the train in the pub bet from hell, the return journey was before me. With no radio, a boot that kept opening over bumps, electric windows pursuing a life of their own, overheating issues and an intense smell of smoke and despair, thanks mainly  to the previous chain-smoking owner, the £160 Pug 406 could tick all the boxes to define dung on wheels. Except, on a molecular level, excrement is usually fizzling with energy.

In essence, to win my drunkenly accepted train verses car challenge, I only had £35 in diesel left to complete the return journey, some 398 miles. Up to this point, the Peugeot had seemed to enjoy gulping down coolant more than it did diesel, but its rate of fuel consumption was still an unknown.

This was always going to be tight on the fuel front. But not this tight... 

Upon leaving the Glasgow South Western Line terminus, team Peugeot had eight hours to reach Peterborough, and despite my complaints around the vehicle’s maladies, the car ran sweet as a nut. And, without a radio, it gave me time to contemplate exactly why buying a cheap car beats paying handover- fist for a train ticket. 

Besides not having to tackle the chaos of railway  stations and the miserable, heart stopping experience of getting from one platform to the other in order to catch a connection, I also had my own space and the chance to lap up the countryside train passengers never get to relish. 

The money saved also bought me a meal – a big, inexpensive one, seeing as I had some blood loss to make up for.

As Peterborough station came into view, the relief that the bet was won overwhelmed me. I’m surprised I wasn’t arrested for screeching to a halt outside the main entrance and dancing a jig bellowing ‘Ya Dancer!’ into the air.

While my 406 may have been mostly ruined, it was still a better option than taking public transport. Coming in at £10 cheaper overall and five hours quicker, I can now sell the Pug to reclaim even more cash. Anyone fancy a bloodstained, smokey, leaky Peugeot 406 1.9TD GLX? 

What do you mean, no? 

Photographer, Stephanie Graham, thoroughly enjoyed a thorough soaking everytime the 406 required a radiator top-up.  

Cat in the Wild: Can you Off-Road a Ford Puma?

ClassicCarsForSale's Calum Brown gets a hold of Classic Car Weekly's £500 Ford Puma to try something a bit different. 

Words: Calum Brown
Photography: Gillian Carmoodie

Being introduced to the Classic Car Weekly Ford Puma was a tad laughable after all the beefy talk it’s caused in the office. It’s difficult to understand why it has become the apple in CCW features editor David Simister’s eye. He’s driven E-types, Ferraris and the odd Bentley - so what was the deal with this disappointing piece of plastic tat? It feels badly made, the interior is cheap and nasty, the ride is more uncomfortable than a sex talk with your Grandparents and the cabin space is lacking in the same way Eric Pickles lacks vitamin C.

When out on the open road the gearbox feels stodgy and fat, despite being overly sensitive in the pedal department the brakes mash like wet cardboard and the wind noise makes my old Mini Mayfair appear sedate and well behaved. It doesn’t even have a practical boot, and the looks are so sickly and perfumed that the smart silver paintwork can’t save the aesthetics from its flatulent, boppy-teenager image. That may appeal to some, but sadly I don’t understand any of it.

If it was light on fuel and generally economical then I could throw some compliments the Puma’s way - but after only 40 miles it chomped through quarter of a tank, and that was without abusing the accelerator in the slightest. I couldn’t even forgive it for being only £500, as that could secure you something realistic and characterful. I can admit, however, that the handling and balance are quite excitable, even if the performance from the 1.4-litre is gutless despite the screaming engine noise. It's so high pitched that local dogs in the area were probably doing backflips. 

Notwithstanding the chuckability, the Puma remains a hateful car. Which is why I decided to punish it for being so downright unfathomable.  I found the nearest Greenlane and lined the pithy hairdresser’s car up for a journey up the dirt track, in as rough a manner as Catherine Trammel would enjoy. 

The first obstacle was a cattle grid, where the suspension clanked and wallowed in a manner befitting spanners in a cement mixer, leaving me with the distinct impression that the Puma wasn’t going to enjoy itself very much over the next two miles. It coped with the mellow potholes admirably at low speed, but as the pits in the ground enlarged, the front valance clipped the unkempt rutted lips in quick succession. 

Having driven this track before, I knew the floorpan would be destroyed if the Puma found itself already struggling with the easy stuff. So, the route was altered to mount the nearby ridge of grass and continue onwards. Except, the Puma didn’t think so.

As soon as the tyres met the grass, momentum stopped immediately. The sound of spinning wheels on pasture whirred into the eardrums of all those nearby, including some lads on a quad bike who stared with curiosity as a handbag car scrambled to push forth into the wilderness. It took three attempts just to get the Ford up a slight grassy incline, which did not bode well for the next segment.

It had rained earlier in the day, leaving one particular section of the greenlane in a bog like state. My Allegro had coped with this last year and escaped out the other side without damage, but the Puma? It triumphantly blared a short exhaust note before flailing uselessly in a dank puddle and filling the vicinity with a burning smell Joan of Ark could be proud of. It clearly wasn’t going any further without self-harming.      

Clattering back onto the tarmac and heading home, I was finally able to find something I liked about the Puma. Giving it back.  Perhaps a David Simister style B-road blast in the near future would sway my opinion, but for now, I simply don’t understand Ford’s attempt to produce the most impractical city car of the 1990s. I can also exclusively reveal that, off the beaten track, the Puma is useless. But you probably guessed that already... 

Coaching the Nation: The Leyland Leopard

We don’t usually talk about buses on ClassicCarsForSale, but with the Leyland Leopard things are different. Whether you realised or not, between 1959 and the late 1990s you’ll have seen one every day - making it an important a piece of nostalgia.

For many it’s the sound of adolescence, the throaty hum of the cantankerous and flaky school bus awaiting in the bay come the bell at 1530. You would spend more time glaring at the clock on the wall than you would listening to the beige lecturer, relishing the moment you could break free from the drab classroom and leg it towards the transport ticking-over to a faint smell of oil. Your ticket home.

For anyone educated within the last five decades, the bus looming over the forecourt as children and teenagers scrabbled to nab their seats would have been the Leyland Leopard - effectively the backbone to British infrastructure. No matter the time of day, no matter the road, you would find a Leopard chugging its way forward, regardless of weather condition. 

Although production ended in 1982, they could be found on British roads until 2006, where all Leopards were withdrawn from public service. Some examples had clocked up an incredible 28 years of service. However, various specimens fobbed off the scrap yard or early retirement to transport students and private hire groups around under the operation of private coach hire firms.

Throughout its 23-year lifetime virtually every coachwork body firm had built upon the Leopard chassis. To bus enthusiasts, names such as Plaxton, Willowbrook, ECW, Duple and Alexander will leave Kleenex sales through the ceiling - but the one you’ll most likely have found blotting out the sun remains the Plaxton Supreme. No matter where abouts in the country you found yourself, every 15 minutes one would wallow by, usually packed with people hiding behind the steamed up windows.

The British Military adopted the Leopard for base work, exporting the buses out to various other countries, with a select few bodied as pantechnicons and at least one as a car transporter - although there was one where the Leyland was not welcome. During the Troubles in Northern Ireland, a portly total of 228 Leopards were stolen from depots and maliciously destroyed and burnt in public streets.

Yet, while Northern Ireland remained a Leopard scrapyard, unlike most British products of the time, the Leyland kept competition at bay, putting the Volvo B58 and AEX Reliance firmly in their place. New Zealand operators ordered loads of them, while national operators practically chose nothing else. Ventura Bus Lines, National Express and British Coachways to name only three big operators.

In the early 1990s, a number of Leopards were rebodied in order to take advantage of a loophole allowing rebodied buses to be classified as new for fleet purposes.

Engines ranged from 9.8-litres of diesel goodness up to 11.1-litres; churning out close to 200bhp. Top speed? 0-60 time? Don’t be silly, it’s a bus. Although, you could get 52mph out of it - and it would do that speed for hundreds of hours on end before so much as needing a service. The mechanicals proved to be sturdy, dependable and reliable. Again, much unlike other British products of the time.

While the monumental steering wheel and huge, air-operated, accelerator and gearbox seem out of date, as a driving machine you would rarely hear those behind the wheel complaining.

Today, several Leopards are in the hands of those preserving them - and rightly so. It’s easy to forget that the vehicles we grew so used to seeing are disappearing - especially when they aren’t cars. 

Cars Worth Saving: Honda Concerto

Articulating the phrase ‘Honda Concerto’ immediately brings the colour grey, the smell of urine and the urge to visit a garden centre to mind. However, there is more than meets the eye to the Honda Concerto. It’s not all drizzle and Gala Bingo…

Unleashed in all its plasticy, humdrum glory upon the British buying public during 1989, it’s easy to judge the Honda Concerto as a soulless, drab, clammy attempt at providing an aging population with means of cheap, reliable transport. Victor Meldrew and Hyacinth Bucket appeared to be the prime customer base. A urinary infection appeared to yield more excitement and enjoyment. A comedy routine by Nigel Lawson was less forgettable.

Although basically the same as the Rover 200/400, yet without the Rover K-series engine destroying its head gasket with every crank of the piston, the Honda Concerto was sold in both liftback and sedan variants, constructed in two locations - Austin-Rover’s Longbridge plant for the European market and by Honda in Suzuka, Japan - this replacement for the Ballade and Integra proved to be an inexpensive, reliable wagon for those who darted home in time for Countdown.

Passing down to the next generation for little to no money, boy racers and younger drivers sent swathes of them into the jaws of the crusher after wrapping them around trees or moving on to more modern, juicer offerings. In essence, because the Concerto was very quickly past its design life, finding one now is more difficult than teaching Nick Leeson the value of honesty.

In many ways, this is a tragedy. No only did the humble Concerto lug countless numbers of people around in relative comfort throughout everyday life for the best part of a decade, but it wasn’t all that boring to drive - especially compared to others in its class.

The 1.6-litre DOHC Honda engine churned out close to 130bhp and could ramp up to 60mph faster than certain Jaguars of the time.  The handling on offer was also somewhat responsive, in that a speedy roundabout during a fit of madness wouldn’t leave you propelled through the window of the local WH Smith, or upside down in a hedge. Other engines were available, from a 1.4 to a 2.0-litre diesel (although that was exclusively sold in France, Italy and Portugal), while four-wheel drive was an option in Japan. This technology was later shared with the Honda CR-V.

The gearboxes were smooth, too - especially the 4-speed automatics. The manuals allowed in excess of 33mpg, unless the driver kept the gearstick in second - as Maureen would get quite a shock when the revs kicked in and the engine suddenly spewed out all 130bhp in an orgy of torque steer. Suddenly, going to the Bingo never felt so dangerous.

The build quality was impressive and owners seemed content with their chariot. It may not have provided the popular looks of the Ford Escort, nor held road presence like a Mercedes, but it served its purpose with aplomb. However, sales were slow - the Rover equivalent was, remarkably, considered more upmarket - and after only five years in production it all came to a halt - with Rover sold on to BMW all Honda/Rover joint projects were cancelled.

Bowing out in 1994 and fading from roads as the years moved on, the Honda Concerto is one of those vehicles ‘specialists’ will claim aren’t worth their metal. Yet, we feel they are wrong.

Just like the cosseted Ford Sierra or sought after BMW E38 of the same era, the Honda Concerto is a part of British everyday history; the sort of honour that has lately found lampooned vehicles from BL’s strike days enjoying a surge in popularity. And, as we start to hunt for the cars within the Concerto’s era, the little Honda’s desirability will outstrip almost any everyday ‘My dad had one of them’ cars. Especially with that high-revving power plant to work with.

There may be body problems with rust, especially under the rubber surrounds of the sunroof and windscreen, and the engine may require a fair bit of attention - especially the twin-cam 16-valve cars that enjoy oil in the same quantities Oliver Reed did alcohol, but if you source a decent example and keep it sweet you’ll have a serious modern ‘everyday’ classic on your hands.

We can understand your scepticism, but trust us on this one. The Honda Concerto is fun, spacious and well equipped, alongside being sturdier than most new build houses.  Pick one up now for a couple of hundred pounds before we are left to fight over the pristine examples at £2k each.  

Top 5: Movie Car Trivia You Never Knew

Are you looking for something to discuss during a pub quiz? Require something to stare quizzically through, pretending it’s a work document,  now that the in-laws have insisted on a visit? ClassicCarsForSale can help with the first in our new series of Classic Car Trivia!

Films and cars go hand in hand, with some of the silver screen’s defining moments involving our four-wheeled friends undertaking the sort of actions we all fantasise about performing - smashing up a Mercedes, jumping across roof tops in a Mini Cooper, having a bit of Rita and Sue in the back of a Rover SD1…

The same goes for the small screen, with cars being such a staple in modern life. It’s why we find Victorian-era set pieces so dull - there is no powersliding Jag or Ford Granada executing a handbrake turn in Tesco’s car park to wah-wah music. Their loss, really.  

However, you know all of this already. So, here are a few things you probably didn’t. Now, get it read before monster-in-laws try to intercept with tales of the garden centre…


5. Inspector Morse Should Have Driven a Lancia Flavia.

In Colin Dexter’s original novels, Inspector Morse owned a clapped-out Lancia Flavia - which was described as ‘faithful’ and ‘a good buy. Powerful, reliable, and 300 miles on a full tank.’ Whether any actual Flavia owner would agree to these statements is another matter…

Yet, when the TV series came about a clapped out Flavia couldn’t be found - strangely, seeing as it was the late 1980s and ruined Lancias where everywhere, everywhere - the producers then found a Jaguar MK II on a scrapheap. With John Thaw’s connection to older Jags courtesy of The Sweeney, it appeared the perfect replacement - for only £200.  Because it just wanted to die, the MK II caused frequent problems during 15-years of production - John Thaw even admitted that it was a ‘complete beggar’ to drive.

4.  Triumph Were Apparently Sabotaged by Aston Martin Over 007

Remember the Triumph Stag in 1971 Bond adventure Diamonds Are Forever? Many observant listeners clocked onto the change in engine noise from one shot to the next, from a V8 to a flatulent 4-cylinder. Brush it off as movie-land trivia all you like, but there is an urban legend here that may raise a pre-Roger Moore eyebrow.

Many claim the V8 engine threw a ‘wobbly’, and insist they have proof a Dolomite or Herald engine was dropped in for filming to be completed. However, allegations from the time accused Aston Martin of objecting to the V8 sound - claiming it sounded better on screen than then DBS from the previous movie, and requested a redub. With such a connection between Bond and Aston, how could the producers refuse? The story sounds bizarre, but holds considerable following online.

3. Range Rovers are Lethal Weapon Favourites

Following the success of the third instalment in the Lethal Weapon film franchise, big wigs at Warner Bother Studios planned to gift Mel Gibson, producer Joel Silver and director Richard Donner brand-new Range Rovers donning fine black paintwork as a token of their appreciation. However, with the Range Rovers to be a surprise gift, all that the recipients knew was to turn up for a celebratory lunch - as the film had passed the £100million gross mark in a very short amount of time.

However, Richard Donner had then forwarded the invite off to other cast members - including Danny Glover, Joe Pesci, Rene Russo and scriptwriter Jeffrey Boam. This resulted in a panic at Warner Brothers headquarters and the studio darted around Los Angeles sourcing and purchasing Range Rovers for each new lunch guest - presenting the entire fleet to the happily stunned group after the meal was finished.

2. Pierce Brosnan’s Aston Martin Vanquish Died Another Day

A garage fire at the Malibu home of former 007, and all-round cool guy Pierce Brosnan, broke out during February 2015, resulting in £1million worth of damage being inflicted upon Brosnan’s $14.5 million mansion - destroying everything in it’s path. First-edition books, including James Joyce’s Ulysses, and paintings were scorched, but the biggest tragedy was the Aston Martin Vanquish - hand built for Pierce at the Aston Martin factory.

Looking into the garage and witnessing the car cover engulfed in flames, Brosnan contemplated braving death to rescue his 2002 Vanquish, but had to back off and watch as it was torched. All he has left now is the badge plaques.  Luckily, no one was hurt.

1.  Steve McQueen Didn’t Actually Do All The Driving In Bullitt.

There has long been speculation as to the amount of stunt driving Steve McQueen performed. Some sources say the king of cool completed the whole thing, as the stunt driver was unable to control the mighty Mustang successfully. 

As it turns out, McQueen nearly killed a cameraman during one tricky manoeuvre and his good friend, and stunt double, Bud Ekins was informed to take over. Although he never did the more difficult car control segments for the film, McQueen still drove for a significant amount of time. Something you would struggle to get past health and safety nowadays… 

Get a deal on your Car Insurance by getting covered in Mustard! 

CLASH OF THE CLASSICS: MG MAESTRO TURBO VS ROVER SD1 VITESSE

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Those who declare the Maestro dull clearly haven’t clapped eyes on the Tickford-MG Turbo variant. Others who call the Rover SD1 a bloated granddad's car obviously haven’t crossed paths with the Vitesse. But, which one is the greatest British thug?

Throughout the 1980s the British car industry took a beating. Cars such as the Austin Metro became something of a laughing stock and various Jaguars fell apart like Halle Berry during an Oscar acceptance speech after only a few years on the road.  However, this stigma surrounding UK car companies suffering from severe fatigue hid some truly astounding cars. The Germans may have snorted at the Triumph Acclaim and the Japanese may have guffawed at the Morris Ital, but no one laughed at these two steroid takers; the Rover SD1 Vitesse and MG Maestro Turbo. And they commanded respect.  

The MG Maestro and Rover SD1 Vitesse embodied the engineering spirit behind Austin-Rover at the time. Take the limited budget granted by the board of directors and squeeze every bit of power out of an old design, masked underneath an ever-dated bodyshell. The results were spectacular. 

The majority of Maestros may have kangarooed out of a junction to sit at 35mph on the main road, but the MG rocketed past - usually sideways - leaving pedestrians open jawed. Large numbers of SD1s may indeed have wallowed around like an intoxicated hippo on a tight corner at any speed, but the Vitesse remained firm even when drifting around a roundabout in a plume of tyre-smoke. 

Prices for both the Tickford-tweaked MG Maestro Turbo and the Rover SD1 Vitesse are on the up, so, for the money, which one deserves your garage space? 

The Looks

There is no questioning that the Rover SD1 Vitesse is a fine looking car. It oozes magnificence in an understated, slightly thuggish way. This is the refined gentleman who is ready and willing to take you outside and draw blood when pushed. The rear spoiler tops off a neat package where the Rover looks mean from any angle, but especially from side on.  

The MG Turbo works from the same book, with a football hooligan image from bumper to bumper. It could be a nightclub bouncer with the brute force aspect the bodykit provides. If you were to open your curtains and find the Maestro Turbo staring in at you the hair on the back of your neck would stand to attention. It would be like the Terminator popping around to borrow some sugar, with the humdrum and softly spoken Maestro frame still largely visible just to fool you.

The Power

To put things into perspective, the MG Maestro Turbo was on the cards as early as 1984, but the development cars were branded ‘too fast’ and would eat Turbos like Eric Pickles does an chicken. Plans changed and it wasn’t until 1988 that the Maestro Turbo finally arrived to bewildered expressions from MG enthusiasts. Churning out 150bhp from a 2.0-litre engine resulted in a nought to 60mph time of 6.7 seconds and a top speed of 132mph - or enough to help wipe the floor with any German equivalent.  

The Rover SD1 Vitesse is older, but far from weak and decrepit. Standard Vitesse models pumped a mighty 187bhp out of its 3.5-litre V8, with a maximum speed of 135mph. So, as far as power goes - the Rover takes victory, even if only just. 

Handling

Don’t let the sporty set-up fool you, the Rover is still a butch rear-wheel drive beast. Take a corner in the incorrect manner or miscalculate the severity of a bend and you will find yourself through either your local branch of WH Smith or Mother Nature’s finest hedge. Keep yourself in check and the humongous SD1 Vitesse will impress you no-end with the road handling abilities on offer, alongside the aptitude to shred tyres without even trying. 

The Austin Maestro handled very much like a Volkswagen Golf, with a fundamentally decent chassis. Except, the MG Turbo was a tad different; the Golf GTI didn’t offer the torque steer of a barely guided missile, as the Maestro Turbo quickly became demented under pressure. Pushing  an insane amount of power through a chassis originally tailored to accept the flatulent grunt of a 1.3 A-series unit, the MG Maestro Turbo could rip your face off and then plant it straight back on again when you hit a tree, slithering around like a buttered python. 

This round depends on your choice: which do you prefer? Catastrophic understeer or monumental oversteer?

Verdict

Picking a winner from two epic vehicles such as these is almost impossible. We would have to say that the only sensible option would be to purchase both if you can find decent examples of each. But, if you don’t have the finance to feed two petrol-hungry road rockets then the Rover is the one to find.  

As a mechanical weapon the Maestro is worthy of worship, but as an all-out brute with enough clout to send lesser cars diving for the nearest hedgerow, we can’t help but fall in love with the Rover SD1 Vitesse.  The MG is brilliant, but the SD1 is sublime.

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Rover sd1

TOP 10: CARS WE LONGED FOR IN 1984

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If you were lucky enough to be driving in the 1984, you may just remember these fine vehicles as being the cars of our desires. Forget dream Lamborghinis and Bugattis, these were the vehicles we could actually grasp without selling our internal organs…

So, 1984 was a year of great turnaround. After years in the doldrums, the economy was finally beginning to pick up, and people were confident about their future prospects. With a growing sense of prosperity, drivers were looking at more cars to match their ambitions.

Although we were yet to truly plumb the depths of the ‘greed is good’ culture that would follow, the Young Urban Professionals (aka yuppies) were already climbing aboard their hot hatches with an eye on that all-important 3-Series before heading off into the sunset in their Guard’s Red Porsche 911. Here are some of the most aspirational cars from 1984 – everything from the best hot hatchbacks to the cream of the attainable supercar crop via the mid-range executive saloons.

Top of the Heap:

Ferrari 308 GTB QV (1983 - 1985)
Price then: £28,000
Price now:  £25,000 - £80,000

If you’d done really well and earned all your bonuses, the entry-level Ferrari 308 was well within your grasp. Dealers reported a high number of cash sales for these brilliant cars, recently upgraded with four-valve cylinder heads. Thirty years on, prices are appreciating.

Porsche 911 Carrera (1984 - 1989)
Price then: £23,729
Price now: £17,500 - £69,000 

The Porsche 911 was the car to have in 1984, especially for City slickers getting used to six-figure bonuses – a reputation that continues 30 years on. In 1984, it had just been upgraded to 231bhp in the much-improved 3.2-litre Carrera form, meaning it had more than enough performance to back up its looks. Today, prices are on the up, as impact bumper 911s gain appeal.
 

Audi Quattro (1980 - 1991)
Price then: £20,402
Price now: £5000 - £30,000 

If you bought aa Audi Quattro in 1984, you were telling the world you cherished high technology, performance and motorsport. It had all the fashionable toys – turbo, four-wheel drive and ABS – for the ultimate in wine-bar kudos. And today, they’re still a formidable 1980s icon.
 

Jaguar XJ-S HE (1981-1990)
Price then: £23,385
Price now: £3000 - £15,000 

In 1984, the Jaguar XJ-S was becoming cool after years in the post-Energy Crisis doldrums, having grown into its once controversial styling. The V12 HE was the ultimate car for Thatcherite gogetters, but most chose the excellent straight-six.

On the Up:

Rover 3500 Vitesse (1983 -1986)
Price then: £15,464
Price now: £2000- £8000

To reflect the Rover SD1’s touring car prowess, you could buy a Vitesse with the same large spoilers and tuned V8 engine as their track car counterparts. It had few of the image problems associated with more humble Austin Rover products – still true today.

BMW 3-Series (1982 - 1991)
Price then: £7260 - £10,300
Price now: £500 - £7500 (not M3)

The BMW 3-Series deserves so much more than its yuppie icon image. Every version, from the lowliest 316 to the ultimate M3, was blessed with excellent dynamics. And aside from the best M3s and droptops, they’re still a bargain classic today.

Citroën CX GTi Turbo (1984 - 1990)
Price then: £12,900
Price now: £2500 - £10,000

The Citroen CX gained its turbo spurs in 1984 and became Citroën’s fastest road car since the glorious SM. Fast in a straight-line and possessing limpet-like handling, there was a lot to love about the CX Turbo. Even today, they’re still in big demand. 


The First Step:

Volkswagen Golf GTI (1984 - 1991)
Price then: £7992
Price now: £100- £5000

The Volkswagen Golf was the ultimate hot hatchback of the time, and one in which all self-respecting yuppies hoped they’d be starting their car trading life. Brilliant and peppy to drive, but expensive then; plentiful and good value now.

Toyota MR2 (1984 - 1990) 
Price then: £7640
Price now: £1500 - £3500 

For those yuppies without kids to worry about, the new and shiny Toyota MR2 was right up their street. It was a two-seater, mid-engined sports car with a powerful twin-cam – like a mini proper supercar but with added Toyota reliability. Desirable today for those in the know.

Ford Escort XR3i (1980 - 1990)
Price then: £7035
Price now: £1250 - £7500 

While the GTI was the ultimate ‘it’ car in 1984, the sharplooking Ford Escort XR3i did its talking in the showroom, becoming the UK’s best-selling hot hatchback in 1984. Today, they’re poised to become icons.

TOP 5: CARS CHEAPER THAN THE TRAIN

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Is it possible to buy a car and run it to your destination for less than the price of a train ticket? CCFS went to find out.

No one likes taking the train. And if they say otherwise, they are clearly lying - or on drugs - to hide the pain.  Besides suffering the possibility of catching a debilitating infection from individuals who would prefer to spray you with mucus rather than blow it into a hankie, putting up with spoilt children who humbly require drop-kicking out the nearest carriage window and being subjected to cackling groups of yobos who deafen all nearby with their conversations of post-watershed topics, your journey will also be dictated to you by a time schedule as vague and characterless as Nicolas Cage’s face.

Forced into the corner seat of a damp carriage alongside an intimidating heifer who communicates solely through the use of narrow-eyed glaring, concurrently enjoying the warm stench of cheap cleaning materials and feeling alone - so alone - the train offers all the charm and appeal of being beaten to a slow death by the cast of Hi-De-Hi! You could always travel first class if you have the budget, and fancy spending hundreds of pounds only to find yourself staring out the window, in utter tedium, awaiting another free coffee; but there is another way… 

Is it possible to purchase a fully working car and travel to your destination for less than the extortionate fare offered from train companies? As it turns out, if you shop around, you could travel everywhere in the comfort and serenity of your own space - listening to what you like and driving at a speed you are comfortable with.  

Cars will never be cheaper than short train journeys, but that doesn’t mean you need suffer over a long haul from the likes of London to Edinburgh or Land’s End to John O’Groats - as we demonstrate…

5. Citroen Xantia - £150 - or - Strood to Cardiff (Return) - £243

Would you like to arrive from Kent into Cardiff having made various heart-stopping transfers where you have only 50 seconds to get from one platform to another? Or would you prefer to waft in on a bed of comfort having just experienced one of the last truly great Citroens - this fantastically underrated Xantia, of which was the final ever to be registered in the UK.

A further bonus is that, after arriving in the Welsh capital, you have a set of wheels in which to explore.  You can also stop en route to buy food and snacks without the premium train companies charge you, unless you enjoy paying £9.99 for a cheese sandwich made from the cheapest ingredients known to man. The fuel bill for an old Citroen is usually tiny, leaving you with profit to burn.

4. Vauxhall Corsa 1.2 - £195 - or - Glasgow to Birmingham (Return) - £276

If you felt brave you could tackle the chaos that is Glasgow Central before fighting for a seat held together with elderly chewing gum. Birmingham’s train station offers little in the way of comfort either - but one car that does, for less that £200 we might add, is the mighty Vauxhall Corsa.  This one is an LS, adding some posh bits, and can deliver over 50mpg - putting the train firmly in the shadows. Get a look at this Vauxhall Corsa for sale on the CCFS website. 

3. Rover 200 Cabriolet  - £250 - or -  London to Stranraer  (Return) - £383.50

It may not look stylish - in fact, style is something that escapes the Rover 200 Cabriolet almost completely - but it certainly makes for a better option than contemplating your existence, as you sponge your face up the condensed train carriage window seeking escape from the excessive, yet damp, heat.  

At only £250, this Rover 200 Cabriolet for sale makes for a bargain on more levels than one. You can travel straight from point A to point B without delay in comparison to the locomotive, and save time into the deal. The train takes just shy of ten hours to travel from London Marylebone to platform 1 in Stranraer, where as driving takes only seven.  The money saved could easily secure you a meal, where as the return trip would cover your petrol costs for fun. Plus, if the weathers nice, you can drop the roof and take in the air. If you tried doing that in a train chances are you would kill everyone involved.

1. Vauxhall Cavalier MKIII - £250 - or - Land’s End to John O’Groats (Return)  - £469.00

Fans of the Vauxhall Cavalier MKIII will undoubtedly tell you that the engines are tough, the interiors are sturdy and the seating position is second to none. Something that can rarely be said for the train. The fact that you can pick one up for less than half the ticket price of a Land’s End to John O’Groats return rail journey boggles the mind - with enough room for four people and a barrel load of luggage to boot. And the best part? After traversing the longest journey Britain has to offer, you can sell on your Cavalier without losing any of the money you spent on it. So long as you don’t take on an express train with it…

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LAND'S END TO JOHN O'GROATS BY AUSTIN ALLEGRO

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Practical Classics Contributors Calum Brown and Martin Domoney hit the road in an Austin Allegro to raise money for Help For Heroes. It didn't all go smoothly, as Calum reports... 

It felt like something was on fire behind me. Standing with solitary thoughts on the cusp of a rolling glen, the grasses tumbling down to expose crashing waves over baron rocks amid trees and heather, with a crisp wind swirling around the beads of sweat meandering down my forehead, I couldn’t help but lap up the solace on offer within the Scottish Highlands.

Then I had to turn around and re-enter the real world, where the Allegro was hissing away like a demented kettle, coughing and spitting in a manner befitting a chain smoker after a dash for the bus.  This didn’t come as a surprise. The Allegro had just covered more than 1000 miles after battling the technicians at the MoT station only four days previously, and picked the perfect spot for the inevitable huff. Miles away from anywhere, on the most northerly tip of Scotland. In so many ways it felt like the end of the world.

Land’s End to John O’Groats will forever remain one of Britain’s greatest motoring challenges - alongside crawling through London incident-free in less than a day.

It’s something us petrolheads all yearn to do, but very few get the chance at.  So, when setting up a charity event for Help for Heroes it made perfect sense. Obviously, the Allegro was the best car for the job.The first task was to push its reluctant rear through an MoT, which after some crying and repair work cost me the best part of my bank account - not that money can rob you of the victorious joy that advisory-free sheet of paper can bring. 

Luckily, my good friend and fellow PC contributor, Martin Domoney deemed the adventure too good to ignore and decided to join me on the start line at Land’s End. Not only is he a glutton for punishment, but a seasoned mechanic – and I think deep down he knew his very particular set of skills would come in handy.The journey started off on a soothing note on the Corwall’s cliff-top B-roads, but after the obligatory pasty the challenge really started on the A30’s never-ending traffic jams. It look us what felt like an eternity to clear the road works and leave first gear, but in reality only 60 minutes had passed.

But while Cornwall – with its scenery lifted straight out of Susan Cooper novel – the M5 offered all the charm of a steamy weekend with Anne Widdecombe. It imprisoned for nearly four clutch-testing hours in a slog towards Birmingham, with a rainstorm of biblical proportions to mark our arrival in the Midlands. I’m too young to remember what sort of rain Britain had in the 1970s, but the Allegro’s wipers failed to cope.

It was only after eight hours we felt like we were making progress - until we checked the map and found we had covered a paltry 280 miles. We pulled into the nearest service station to stuff our face with Burger King to cheer ourselves up.

The further north we travelled, the quieter the roads became. Eventually, we crossed over into Scotland on a crest of engine noise - signalling that the A-series unit was gasping for oil. So, another Burger King later, the engine was topped up with the finest Halfords had to offer. We couldn’t help but notice the huge pool of murky brown water that had accumulated since gliding to a halt too - but what could we expect? The Allegro had sat stationary for over six months and then driven from Peterborough to Land’s End and upwards to the Celtic motherland in a non-stop cacophony of traffic, while carting us and our supplies hundreds of miles.

So, after pouring some clean coolant into the expansion tank, Team Allegro set off for the overnight stop near Lanark. It took a further two hours to arrive at the Brown family residence, by which point the charms of 16 hours at 4000rpm were wearing thin, but the plucky Allegro pushed on to deliver us safely, despite a slight wobble on tickover. The following morning – after some much-needed slumber – it became clear the Allegro was far from well. The revs would bounce before the engine cut out altogether. Martin stepped in to investigate but the glitch disappeared as soon as the car warmed up, so we set off on the final leg to John O’Groats fuelled largely by optimism.

The miles flew past as the plucky little Austin tore through Edinburgh towards the Forth Road Bridge, with the only stop being for one last Burger King before we hit the Highlands.

This is where things definitely brightened up. The roads curving around the mountains offer the best on-road driving experiences in Britain, and we pretty much had them to ourselves.  Or, at least, with the intense hill climbs to traverse, the road was clear ahead.

We did have to slink into the odd layby and let streams of aggravated BMW drivers power past with various hand signals waving at us from passenger windows - but we are convinced these were waves of encouragement. Maybe.

It was all going so well – and then the engine appeared to pack in completely only 20 miles from our finish point.  Martin stepped in again and attempted to work his magic – but it was only when a white van pulled alongside us that we got our lucky break.

Its driver was Alistair Sutherland from Highland Performance Rolling Road Tuning – and it just happens that A-series engines would be his specialist subject on Mastermind. He helped us limp the Allegro back to his nearby courtyard, and then assisted Martin in nursing the 1.3-litre engine back to health. I played an important part too – who knows what would’ve happened if there hadn’t been someone to hold the nuts and bolts?

After the seemingly miraculous repair the Allegro’s engine was now running smoother than ever, and was ready for the final push. We made it John O’Groats’ harbor 90 minutes behind schedule – but the point was that we made it at all, in an Allegro that less than a week earlier had croaked through an MoT after six months of inactivity. I’m utterly relieved and quite frankly gobsmacked the Allegro covered such a huge distance with only one hiccup.Oh, and we raised an impressive £632 for Help For Heroes while we were at it. All we needed to do now was take the Allegro home – it’s only 600 miles back to Peterborough...

You can donate to Help For Heroes through the Austin Allegro page here. 

DEBUNKING AN URBAN LEGEND: 50 SHADES OF BLACK

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Legend portrays Henry Ford as having said “The Ford Model T customer may have his car in any colour he wishes, so long as it is black.” But, was this really the case?

Thanks largely to underlying presumption; time has pushed forward the notion that you could only ever purchase a Model-T Ford in the very finest shade of black. Yet, not only were various colours offered over the two-decade production run, but for the first six years of manufacture black wasn’t even an option. From 1908 through 1915, the choices of paint for your shiny new Ford totalled four options - red, green, grey or blue.

So, where does this common misconception stem from? Well, according to Model T experts, these colours were available early on until 1914, and then again just as the ‘Tin Lizzy’ was retired in favour of the Model A. For the 1926 range, your Model T could be had in Windsor Maroon, Highland Green, Phoenix Brown or Fawn Gray - among others.

However, that leaves a gap of nearly 11 years, from 1915 to 1926, where 95% of total vehicle production was crafted together across various global assembly plants. And the colour? You guessed it - black.

Ever keen to save a buck or two, Henry Ford declared that all Model Ts rolling off the factory line as of 1915 were to be black, as he - or rather his team - had discovered a formula for black paint that dried faster than any other dye in use at that point, speeding up production time, and raking in extra profit. The rumour that the paint was cheaper than colour-pigmented paints was never fully proven, and rubbished by management. *

Eventually, competition caught up and Ford felt pressure to update the vehicle. Although the Model T was still the best value for money on the market, compared to competition, the Ford masterchild was looking out dated. As Model A production began, black was once again absent on specification sheets.

So, while the legend is untrue, it’s only untrue 5% of the time.  95% of all Ford Model Ts really were black - as it was the only colour Henry Ford felt was cheap enough.

Ford? Cheaply made? We’ll leave you to make your own mind up.

*Therefore probably 100% accurate.

CLASH OF THE CLASSICS: MGB GT VS TRIUMPH TR7

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The Triumph TR7 and MGB GT are both superb value and great to drive - but given the choice, which is the better buy?

Driving, savouring and analysing the fixed-head Triumph and late-model, rubber-bumpered MGB GT is a bit like spending a day listening attentively to all those Doctor Hook and Captain & Tennille singles that didn’t storm the charts when new, and even today, don’t exactly pulse out of your car radio. But give them a chance, ignore the dissenters and they’re still very good.

Both cars are from iconic manufacturers. The Triumph TR2-6 is held in deep esteem and the older MGs, including chrome-bumpered Bs, are still revered by classic fans. Yet while the convertible form of the Triumph TR7 is recognised as a highly desirable and practical classic, the more idiosyncratic fixed-head version of the TR7 is still overlooked by some.

There are more than enough clichés spouted about these cars. It is generally acknowledged that early, Speke-built Triumph TR7s weren’t the best quality sports cars ever made, but that conveniently forgets the massive quality improvements made to later TR7s. In the same way, pub bores rubbish the rubber-bumpered MGB introduced in 1974, usually without ever having driven one. Such poppycock spouted by the so-called purists means that, even today, either of these cars can be bought for £3500 in good condition. And that’s fantastic news for classic fans.

Honestly, both are great. Both will be rightly recognised there as card-carrying classics, but which is the absolute king of the underdogs?

Looks:

No one would ever confuse these two cars, even if they were wearing earplugs on the darkest of nights, and each offers a highly different driving experience.

With the passing of years, both cars are neatly and attractively styled. Let’s be honest, the rubbery bits enforced by US legislation don’t look bad on the MG, especially when viewed alongside period rivals, such as the ghastly Federal-spec Lancia Montecarlo.

The TR7 looks smaller and neater – and while some 1970s details can look tacky, the styling has aged well. Think of all those modern cars that now have a pronounced swage line and you’ll realise just how forward-thinking the TR6’s wedge-shaped successor was. Yet it’s the disdain for the two cars’ styling that has kept prices low. This really is no bad thing, because both are huge fun to drive.

On the road:

We’ll sample the MGB GT first. It’s a car you lower yourself into with care, and it immediately feels sporting, thanks to its crackle-black dashboard. The chunky four-spoke steering wheel, the reclined driving position and the view along the bonnet get you in the mood for competitive driving.

It’s all very workmanlike, but the seats offer plenty of support for drivers. Your legs seem to be able to stretch out forever in that vast canyon of a footwell, and the GT’s relatively high roofline means you won’t be brushing the headlining with your perm.

Turn the key and you’re definitely in sports car territory, with a wondrous engine note from the B-series, and purposeful throb from the exhaust.On the move, the four-pot feels torquey and the gearchange has a lovely, clicky feel. The car is rather low-geared, but this is put to good effect, with responsive mid-range acceleration.

In addition to the car having a reasonable amount of urge in the mid-range, the optional-fit overdrive makes for relatively relaxed cruising. The B is quite noisy overall, but not excessively so at constant speed – good if you like motorways.

The real delight is the handling. Get hold of one of the early rubber-bumpered MGB GTs and the raised suspension can feel a little spindly. But that’s not the case with this later car – put that down to the retro-fitted front and rear anti-roll bars, which really do tame the body roll and understeer. You could easily forget you’re sitting on a live axle and cart springs, thanks to perfectly-judged damping.

Steering is sharp and free from wander, but you pay for its directness with your biceps – it’s a heavy set-up. But overall, it is great, great fun at the wheel.

The TR7 is a very different beast. Entry into the car is a little more dignified and, once you’re inside, you’ll be surprised at the amount of space in the rather attractive cabin. The overall levels of comfort leave the MGB GT in the shade, and who could fail to love the tartan upholstery, seemingly inspired by the trousers of one Rupert Bear Esq?

Despite the obvious fact that this is strictly a two-seater, it’s a less sporting environment than the MGB GT. There’s an enormous and useful glovebox, and the instruments are housed in a large, oblong binnacle. It’s all very ergonomically laid out, although you get the impression it might have been crafted on a budget, and the driving position is excellent, with easily adjustable seats.

It’s rather a fun view down the bonnet, too. You could be in a Lotus here, with those pop-up headlamps rising at the touch of a button. When the TR7 was new, Triumph was keen to draw comparisons with similarly-snouted supercar brethren – the Ferrari BB, for instance – but there’s nothing intimidating in the way the TR7 drives.

The gearchange, shared with the Rover SD1, is lovely and has a smooth and slick change. The only bugbear is that the pedals seem a long way apart, which is another facet of this car that conspires to make it feel unsporting. You soon get used to this.

A lot of work must have gone into the suspension, as the ride is really good from the oh-so-simple independent front and beam rear axle set-up not unlike that of the MG.

The steering offers up plenty of communication, emphasising its neutral handling. There’s a feeling at low speeds that the rear of the car could be a little twitchy if pressed, but this turns out not to be the case, the car’s low centre of gravity surely making a contribution here. There isn’t quite the sporty feel of the MGB GT, but body roll is largely absent and the TR7 is certainly safe and predictable.

Neither car is going to catch you out in a nasty way. Both are actually rather forgiving, although the MG would be the first to give you a tap on the nose if you really tried to press it too hard.

Not surprisingly, the TR7 feels the more refined cruiser of the pair, as well as being good on low-end torque, but the MGB feels more flexible mid-range.

The braking on both cars is smooth and progressive, fine for normal driving, with those in the Triumph having a slight advantage over its rival, we’d say. In short, you’ll not go wrong with either.

So who wins?

If money were no object, we’d suggest buying both an MGB and a TR7 and driving them on alternate days. But as we need to choose an outright winner...

Like the Beatles, the MGB was a 1960s act whose classy components successfully lived on and prospered well into the 1970s and ‘80s. The TR7, on the other hand, has been unfairly associated with the decade that taste forgot, leaving it with more than a whiff of Afghan coats, patchouli oil, prog rock concept albums and jeans with ridiculous flares. This is unfortunate, because the TR7 is a great car, brimming with potential. Neither should Triumph’s advertising comparing the car to a bullet be followed by the phrase ‘in the head’

Though it feels slightly more saloon-like to sit in than the MGB, the TR7 handles really well. It’s very comfortable, has a spacious interior and boot, and has an immense and lovable character. It really is entertaining to drive and everyone loves those pop-up headlights.

The most bitter irony is that build quality of later TR7s was actually rather good, just at the point production ended. People also tend for forget just how many safety features these cars were given, from crumple zones to door bars.

I really don’t want to hurt the poor old MGB GT. So I won’t. I love the car and, in quantitative terms, it does nothing badly. For that reason alone, it has to be the easy winner.

DREAM CAR FRIDAY – THE ALFA ROMEO GIULIETTA SS

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The Alfa Romeo Giulietta Sprint Speciale really is a car that manages to have it all. Not only are its Franco Scaglione-penned lines a voluptuous treat for the eyes, but it really does look futuristic. It looks like it’s surging towards the horizon even when waiting dutifully for its owner.

When the very lucky owner returns to this Bertone-bodied beauty, the fun continues. Two engines powered the SS, the first was a four-cylinder 1.3-litre Twin Cam engine that delivered 100bhp. That may not sound like a great deal, but you have to remember that as these cars were essentially homologation specials, the luscious coachwork was made from a weight-conscious mix of aluminium and steel, and it had a drag co-efficient of just 0.28. This made them very fast – 125mph, a lot for the time. 

Going fast, however, is only part of the car’s appeal. Like most Alfas the handling is a delight; communicating the road’s corrugations to the driver loud and clear – but begging to be chucked around much harder. It’s easy to see why even standard Giuliettas were popular racing cars.

As racing regulations changed, so did the SS. Gone were the Giulietta underpinnings, in came a 1.6-litre engine and Giulia underpinnings, all under a very similar Giulietta shape. It retained the name, but gained extra power – 112bhp. 

It’s an example of the latter that you see here – and while it may be grey, miserable and cold outside right now, it’s not hard to dream of flicking through an Alpine pass, the perfectly positioned gearbox happily doing your bidding. The rasping Twin Cam engine will be ricocheting off the hills as it excitedly fires you from one hairpin to another, each corner an object lesson in engaging and satisfying handling. It’ll be delicious.

You’ll be glad to know that because this is a Giulia-based car, it’s fitted with front disc brakes – it being an Alfa, the sheer joy of revving that sweet engine is highly addictive, to the point where you may forget to brake. But you wouldn’t have to worry about this car’s age, though. 

It’s had a comprehensive refurbishment by RM Restorations, which means the camshafts were re-shimmed, the gearbox was overhauled and the brakes were brought back to their best. A fresh exhaust was installed before a full service and tune-up.

But even if you were lucky enough to be this Alfa’s custodian, using it in the middle of winter may not be the best idea – salt and Alfas do not mix well. But with this sitting in the garage, you’ll be begging for the seasons to change. Now, where did I put my Euromillions ticket?

FUTURE CLASSICS: MASERATI GRANTURISMO SPORT

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Future Classics: Maserati GranTurismo Sport

What is it? 

It’s the latest incarnation of the Maserati GranTurismo, which was first launched way back in 2007. The Sport replaces the S, making it the new mid-point in the GranTurismo model range.

So, what’s changed? 

Performance, mainly, as both the automatic and electro-actuated versions of the GranTurismo Sport are faster than the outgoing S. Updates include a raft of improvements derived from the fire breathing MC Stradale, with more power and better handling. The Sport also features updated Sport Skyhook active damping system and dual-cast brakes. The Ferrari sourced V8 engine has also been tweaked, to offer 0-63mph in 4.7secs for the six-speed manual MC Shift ‘box and 4.8secs for the full automatic MC Auto Shift. Maserati has made some minor exterior and interior updates too, but you’d need a magnifying glass to find them.

Sounds good, what’s it like to drive?

Fast and incredibly loud. The 4.7-litre engine is a big bruiser and reminiscent of Maseratis of old, with 453bhp at 7000rpm and 383lb ft of torque at 4750rpm. On the road the GranTurismo Sport is sure footed and responsive too, which is impressive when you consider she’s a large lady, weighing the best part of two tons! The car also has one of the best sound tracks we’ve ever experienced, thanks to its magical ‘sport’ button that diverts the exhaust gases down a shorter route to the exhaust tips, generating a richer, and more intense exhaust note. Find some sweeping bends and you’ll be transformed to a V8 filled heaven as the GranTurismo Sport roars along effortlessly. Both of the gearbox options are capable, although we preferred the six-speed manual as it provides a satisfying blip on the downshift.

Any drawbacks? 

Being such a big and heavy car, the Maserati struggles when it comes to the twisty stuff. Admittedly, the Brembo brakes do a good job of scrubbing the speed off, but the steering lacks feel and, if pressed hard, will leave you with multiple turns to ensure it stays on the rails.

How’s the fuel economy? 

Like all supercars, it’s poor and easy to hit single mpg figures when giving it the beans. But, if you have to ask, then this is clearly not the car for you.

So is it a GT car or a luxury tourer? 

Like a Liberal Deomocrat MP, it’s trying to be a bit of everything and this could be its downfall. Hardcore GT followers will find it lacking in the handling stakes, while those searching for the ultimate luxury tourer experience struggle with its racing DNA; however, it does ticks the box as being a beautiful all rounder, with an incredible V8, so what’s not to like?

Stats Maserati GranTurismo Sport

Engine 4691cc V8
Power 453bhp @ 7000rpm
Torque 383lb ft @ 4750rpm
Top Speed185mph 0-62mph 4.8secs
Economy 18.2mpg Price £90,390

Maserati GranTurismo Sport MC Shift

Engine 4691cc V8
Power 453bhp @ 7000rpm
Torque 383lb ft @ 4750rpm
Top Speed186mph 0-62mph 4.7secs
Economy 19.8mpg Price £93,720

Monstrous performance, chiselled good looks and a sound track to die for; the Maserati GranTurismo Sport has all the ingredients for a great GT car, says Dan Powell.

AFFORDABLE ASTON MARTINS: TOP FIVE

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Affordable Aston Martins: Top five

You might be forgiven for thinking you have to be a millionaire to own a classic Aston Martin – but there are still some steals to be found if you shop around.

Coys is auctioning this unrestored 1972 DBS – the last production car – at its Spring Classics sale, and with an estimate of between £25-40k it’s potentially very good value for classic car fans.

But if you’re no good with a spanner and don’t want an unrestored car, there are still some great value Astons out there. Such as this little lot…

V8 saloon

The V8 range – particularly the coveted Vantage versions – have steadily surged in value as classic car fans now unable to afford the DB4, DB5 and DB6 increasingly appreciate its looks and performance.

There are plenty out there being advertised with six-figure prices, but among the deals we found out there were this tidy 1978 Series III V8 for £65,000. Click here for more pictures.
 

DB7

The DB7 is the real investment tip here. It’s currently languishing in the price territory previously occupied by the DBS, but values are already beginning to slowly increase.

If you shop around you can still pick up the straight six-engined cars for less than £20,000, like this 1999 model we found for £19k. 
 

V8 Vantage

Here’s proof you don’t need to be a Premiership footballer to enjoy a 21st century Aston Martin.

The V8 Vantage was originally introduced in 2005 but is still on sale largely unaltered a decade later, meaning the early models are a great value way of enjoying the looks and the exhaust howl of the current range. Check out this 2005 V8 we found – yours for less than £35k, less than half the price of a new one.
 

Cygnet

We know what you’re thinking – it's not a proper Aston Martin, is it?

The traditionalists might sneer at this Aston-tweaked version of the Toyota IQ, but the fact it didn’t prove a hit during its short production run means that fewer than 150 were made, which means it’ll (eventually) be coveted by classic fans for its rarity.

Enjoy it for what is – the IQ’s clever packaging with an added touch of luxury – and eventually the classic car world will change its outlook on the currently unloved Cygnet. Play the long game for £23k.
 

DB9

The DB7 might be beautiful, but even its biggest fans will admit the build quality of the early models and the lack of headroom make its DB9 successor easier to live with.

It’s a superb GT and early examples are getting more affordable than you might think – we found this 2005 model, with only 19,000 miles on the clock, for a shade under £42k. Be warned, though: unlike most of the older Astons, this one’s still on the way down price-wise, so if you wait a little longer the DB9 should become even more affordable.
 

Aston Martin

TOP FIVE: MODERN CLASSIC V8S FOR LESS THAN £8K

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The world is in ecological meltdown - well, so we're told. Global warming is a terrible thing, as espoused by those soaking up the sun in North London parks in March. Even showing an interest in cars is deeply passé...

So a V8 seems rather counter-culture these days. Naughty, even. It's something that has to be done before we're all told to conform to 1.0-litre-or-less mediocrity.

But it doesn't have to mean breaking the bank. Here are eight-cylinder lovelies for less than a new EV car that will probably make more impact on the world's ecology thanks to building and shipping limited-miles EV batteries.

Audi S4 (B6) 

The B6-generation Audi S4 is all about tight, well-groomed and efficient minimalism. It's a car that's never looked old, and still holds up well today. But the real story is the everyday, all-weather peformance. Thanks to its four-wheel drive system you could be in a monsoon and still deploy its 339bhp and truly mighty 302lb ft of torque without concern. Try that in any other car and you'll be in a tree, contemplating your limbs - or the lack of.

Cost new: £38,235        Value now: £6000

BMW 840Ci

It's Munich's forgotten supercar - too complicated, too modern-looking and, at the time of its luanch, too expensive. But as time has advanced the BMW 840Ci is getting much more appealing; it's looking fresh and dynamic in a clipped, Ikea manner. The V8 cars may lack the glamour of the V12s but should the worst happen you'll be able to find more donor 5-series V8s than you wil 7-series V12s. It was pilloried at the time for not being as sharp-edged as the styling suggests, but if you look at it as a staggeringly fast cruiser, it starts to make sense. Prices have already started to rise for the very best examples.

Cost new: £54,950        Value now: £5000

Jaguar XJR X308

These old Jaguars may look as if the closest they come to hardcore is driving past a builders' skip on the way to the golf club, but don't be fooled. With 370bhp on tap and suspension tweaks that mean you'll corner in a way E-type owners can only dream of, it's a truly special car. While it may lack the vim and vigour of a BMW M5, the Jaguar XJR has a loveable-rogue charm all of its own. No new car will ever look like this again - and in the long term, that augurs well.

Cost new: £58,935        Value now: £8000

Mercedes-Benz CLK 55 AMG

Oddly for a Mercedes-Benz, this is perhaps the most-discreet Q-car here. The Audi and the Jag may not wear their high performance on their sleeve, but they still look special. The CLK 55 just looks like an old Merc, no more no less. But get on a straight stretch of road, wind up that handbuilt 5.4-litre, 342bhp V8 and you'll be on speaking terms with the horizon befoer you know it, and all in sumptuous comfort.

Cost new: £58,965        Value now: £5000

Toyota/Lexus Soarer/SC400

If you've never heard of these majestic-looking machines, you're missing out. With a smidgen less than 300bhp on tap and an engine note akin to a jetliner, it's a pity they're such a rare sight - they were never officially imported to the UK, but several came over as personal imports. Sixty comes up in just over six seconds and you'll be tickling 170mph on a long-enough autobahn; in-gear shove is hefty with 300lb ft or torque.

Cost new: $38,000 (US)        Value now: £3000

Originally featured in Issue 003 of Modern Classics magazine, pick up a copy by emailing Leise Enright at leise.enright@bauermedia.co.uk 

BUY THIS, NOT THAT: ASTON MARTIN LAGONDA VS LAGONDA TARAF

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BUY THIS, NOT THAT: Aston Martin Lagonda vs Lagonda Taraf

If you’re a plutocrat with a penchant for expensive automotive bling, but don’t want to be too showy about it – good news! Aston Martin’s Lagonda Taraf will now be available in locales other than the Middle East. That means that you’ll be one of 200 to sample one of the 6.0-litre, V12 machines. Well, that’s if you’ve got a suitably large enough bank account – prices haven’t been released, but the unit of measurement is likely to be ‘shedloads’.

However, for those of us with more modest budgets, there is a solution, and we have to look back to William Towns’s striking Lagonda. With this particular example up for sale for £130,000 it’s still not beer money, but some way short of the Taraf. 

PERFORMANCE

Okay, so the Taraf will win this on numbers alone. That 6.0-litre V12 sees action in all of Aston’s ‘big’ cars, and while precise performance figures for the Taraf haven’t been released, in Vanquish flavour it produces a meaty 568bhp and 465lb ft. That means sub-four seconds to 60mph and a top speed of 201mph. 
That’s not to say the Towns Lagonda isn’t swift – it uses a 5.3-litre V8 engine to produce 280bhp, which will whisk you to sixty in just over eight seconds and on to 140mph. 
One wonders whether twice the horsepower will be of any use to Taraf owner – you wouldn’t want to get Bollinger over the rear seats when the chauffeur gets frisky with the loud pedal, now would we?

HANDLING

No-one outside of Aston Martin has driven the Taraf and it’s highly unlikely the majority of us will, but given that the Rapide is generally well-received, it’s hard to imagine it being awful. And despite its looks the Aston Lagonda is an enthusiastic steer, too. While the non-Vantage V8 upon which the undergarments are based can draw some criticism for being a bit soft and floaty, there’s a harder-edge to the Lagonda’s steering that means your chauffeur can still give you spillage problems, should he or she feel the need to be naughty in the bends. However, it’s not wallowy – it corners flatly and the ride comfort is superb.
That does rather focus the mind; we can’t imagine many Taraf owners driving their cars, where a lot of Lagonda custodians do (well, until they stop ‘surprisingly’). We’d say if you’ve ever tried a Bentley Turbo R, you can expect similar levels of feel here. But then the Bentley Turbo R looks like a lightly modified Bentley. Whereas…

THE LOOKS

William Towns shocked the word with his Lagonda design back in 1976, and despite being in production until 1990 (the one in our pictures is one of the last ones made), it never got boring. In fact it’s still somewhat futuristic despite its age, much like the Porsche 928 that shares a similar life arc. Everything about it pushes at the avantgarde; if this was a building there’d be protests outside town halls and snooty columns in broadsheet newspapers. And for that, I love it. 
It’s the kind of design that is usually seen by a select few at motor shows, then hidden to gather dust in manufacturer museums or very private collections. The only link such concepts have to production reality is a video game version or bits of it featuring tenuously on a hatchback’s mid-life facelift. This, however, stalks the land as a modernist masterpiece on wheels. 
This all reflects badly on the new boy. The Taraf, while a pleasing design, lacks the sheer outrageousness of its older brother. I imagine this restrained look was intentional, and it’s certainly not ugly. However, will we be discussing its aesthetic merits, good or bad, nearly 40 years after its launch? Hmm.

PRACTICALITY & INTERIOR

The Taraf is customisable to your heart’s content and if you’ve got the cash to spend on one, I imagine you’re not interested in finding out how many baked bean tins fit in the boot. You probably arrange for them to be shipped separately in your own private jet. 
The Lagonda, however, is a large car (shorter than a Mercedes S-class of similar age, however), but that’s the least of your worries, frankly. Aside from the usual handbuilt Aston ‘quirks’, the Lagonda was notorious for its electrical maladies. However, by the end of the car’s life the electrics had been rationalised and retuned; and there’s now a wider knowledge base to help sort out such issues. The car we’ve chosen is a very rare Series 4 model and by then most problems had been attended to. The vendor’s even offering a one-year warranty! 
If you do break down, you can take in the intriguing mix of space-age switchgear, LCD instruments and Olde English clubhouse leather and wood. Not a bad way to spend a few hours, to be honest…

SUMMARY

On paper, the Taraf may be 'better', but that's not the whole story. For sheer emotional pull the William Towns-penned machine is rather more appealing. Not only is it cheaper, it makes a statement and dares to be different. Quite whether that statement is the cream to your coffee is up to you, but at least someone tried. 
For either the Taraf or the Aston Lagonda, may I offer my services as that chauffeur? I apologise about the spilled vino in advance… But which would you have? Let us know below…