January came round, and I began my search for a Minor in earnest, and told my parents I would be trading in the Swift in a month's time. When they heard I wanted a Minor, there was some slight groaning, probably mitigated by feelings of nostalgia. In a last ditch effort to put me off a classic car, they insisted that I take a test drive of a Minor before I sold the Swift, just in case I hated it. I couldn't really argue, so I had a look for a Morris Minor for sale near university. I managed to find this one:
It was for sale in Chichester, at a Smart Car dealership, of all places, for £4000. That's quite a steep sum for a saloon, and it was not the model I wanted. You can see from the picture that it has two too many doors, but also it is a 1956 Series II Minor. These have a less powerful engine and worse gearbox than the later Minor 1000s, and also has trafficators instead of proper flashing indicators. However, it did at least have my favourite colour scheme. It was the nearest Minor to me by a long way, and I didn't want to travel many miles to see a car I was not going to buy. A Minor is, essentially a Minor, so I rang up the man to have a chat about it. Being a Smart Car salesman he was unfamiliar with Minors, to put it mildly. I learned that the steep price came from the fact that they had had £700 worth of welding done to it to get it through its most recent MOT, and that it had full service history. I agreed to come and see it that same day. However, I didn't want the salesman to think I was some unwashed youth just wanting a spin in a classic car. So I put on a suit, with a waistcoat. That did the trick.
A couple of hours later I arrived, and the man brought the car round the the front, gave me the service file and left me alone with the car for a few minutes. I climbed into the driver's seat, and shut the the door with a loud "thunk". There is nothing else like climbing into a classic car for the first time, shutting the door and breathing in the interior. It was fantastic. The air in the Minor was a perfect mix between the engine fluids and the smell of the old leather, the kind of smell that couldn't come from anywhere except an old car. The interior itself was beautiful. The red leather had faded over 56 years into a darker, more brown shade, but still looked magnificent. The steering wheel was made of white plastic, with a grey swirly pattern in it that looked great. The wheel itself was also huge, the sort of thing you'd expect to find on a sailing yaught. The horn button in the middle was brass, tarnished heavily from the years and countless hands on it. Everything was different in the Minor. The switches and ignition were all in the middle, underneath the speedo, which itself was a creamy white colour. The switches aren't modern push buttons, but instead are big bakelite pull and flick stalks. There's also a manual choke, essential on an older car. I just sat there for a while, marveling at it. I then had a look at the service file, and wow. When the man had said full service history, he meant it. Every single bill, receipt, MOT, tax disc and scrap of paper relating to the car had been kept and filed. The original bill of sale from 1956 was there, as were some original brochures, and receipts for parts with shillings written on them. It was amazing. I grabbed the salesman and the keys, and we went for a drive.
It took quite a bit of getting used to, to put it lightly. Firstly, you have to start the engine. In the Series II Minor, you don't simply put the key in the ignition and turn. You put the key in the ignition, and switch the ignition on. Then, you pull a separate little stalk, which operates the starter motor. It's needlessly complicated, but I love it. The engine itself fired up instantly, sice the car was already warm.
Then, you've got to operate the pedals. The brake and clutch pedals hinge from underneath the floor, instead of from the bottom of the dashboard, so the way you push them is a bit different, as they curve in the other direction. What's more, the clutch and brakes themselves are not power assisted, so to make them work, you really have to step on the pedals. The throttle, however, hinges from the familiar position, from above, and since it's only pulling the throttle cable on the carb, it's much easier. The carburettor itself doesn't deliver power as instantaneously as fuel injection does, but I prefer it, as it makes power delivery smoother and easier to regulate, which is what you actually need with everyday driving. I did actually find the driving position slightly awkward, and getting at the pedals was a little tricky. That was probably down to inexperience, and the fact I was wearing uncomfortable brogues.
Once we got moving, there was the steering to contend with. It's not power assisted, but thanks to the large wheel and lightness of the system, you really don't notice once you're moving. The rack and pinion system is incredibly responsive and gives great feedback, and is one of the Minor's best features.
Once some speed was achieved, I had to change gear. This is one of the most enjoyable bits of driving a Moggy. You don't just flick the gear lever around like you do in a modern car. You really have to grasp it and properly move it. That's partly because the gearbox isn't quite as refined as a modern car's, but also because the gear lever is very long, especially on the earlier Minor gearboxes. The gears are easy to find however, once you know where they are. There's also one less of them; Minors have 4-speed gearboxes, not 5. It's also very important to remember not to shift into first gear when the car is moving, because first gear in a Minor does not have synchromesh. Long story short, this makes the gearbox graunch horribly if you try to select first while moving, but it's something you very quickly learn.
The view out of the Minor was great. The visibility out of the Minor was not so great. By that I mean that what you see through the windscreen and the windows makes you smile, but is perhaps not the best for seeing outside. The split-screen windscreen on the Series II Minor looks great from outside, and even better from inside. On the side, you get quarterlights, which look brilliant, even if they don't actually do much when you open them except make wind noise. The rear view mirror was tiny, about the same size as the mirror that girls carry around with them to check their makeup with. Mind you, the rear window was tiny as well. This was actually enlarged on the later Minor 1000s, another reason why I didn't want a Series II.
Up until I took the first corner, it was all fine and dandy. However, when you arrive at a junction in a Series II Minor, you have to indicate. Your hand moves towards the steering column to operate the indicator stalk, but you don't feel it. You look down and see nothing there. You scan the dashboard quickly for any likely switches, but there are none. By this time you've been sitting at the junction for a good five seconds. You turn to the salesman in the passenger seat and ask "Where are the indicators?" he points and indicates a small plastic lever underneath the dashboard to the right of the steering column, attached to a vertical swivel so it can move left and right. You tentatively reach out and push the lever to the right. There's a slight sound in your right ear, and you look round to see that a metal arm with an illuminated orange light on it has flipped up and points out a good 10 inches from the side of the car, between the front and rear doors. "That's ridiculous!" you say to the salesman, with slight incredulity in your voice. The salesman shrugs and says "It is a bit odd.". I decided after that I really didn't like the trafficators. Not only do they not self-cancel, but they don't flash or click to let you know they're on, so it's very easy to drive along, forgetting that one of them is standing erect. The flashing indicators from later Moggies can be retrofitted to Series IIs, but that would mean messing around with the wiring, which is my least favourite part of any car, and I would have anal purists on my back for ruining the car's originality.
But I'm waffling a bit now. Suffice to say that, despite the trafficators, driving a Minor for the first time was challenging, but incredibly good fun, and satisfying too. You're really involved in the driving of the car, as it has no aids to help you like a modern car, so once you reach your destination, you really feel like you've driven there, not merely traveled there. One thing I did miss, besides indicators, was a seatbelt. That's right, there were no seatbelts. They were not compulsory on production cars in Britain until 1967, so all Moggies made before then will not have come with them as standard. Of course many Moggy owners have since fit seatbelts to their cars over the years, but the previous owners of the Series II I drove clearly hadn't got around to it. The Series II Minors also have a weaker gearbox than later cars, and the measly 30 horspower engine gets you a top speed of 65 mph, so cruising would be around 55.
After having another chat with the salesman, I unfortunately had to lie to him and tell him I'd think about it and get back to him. In fact, I had no intentions of buying the car, partly because £4000 is way too much for a Moggy like that, and that it was just a bit too antiquated for me.
In hindsight, I actually really liked the way the Series II looked. If it had been quite a lot cheaper, I might have bought it, then fitted some flashing indicators, and dropped in a later engine and gearbox to bring the performance up to scratch. Maybe a project for the future.
In the previous few months before January, I'd been researching the good old Beetle, brushing up on my knowledge and keeping a mind as to what to expect, even selecting specific model years as the sort I would like to buy. However, my search for Beetle info brought other classic cars under my radar. These were the Ford Capri Mk.3, the Mini, the Series II Land Rover, the Volvo Amazon, and, of course, the Morris Minor. I ended up doing research on all these cars, and as the sale time for the Swift was looming, I started to shorten the list of possibilities one by one.
Firstly I discounted the Landy. While being a wonderful-looking vehicle in its own right, a true British classic, and having excellent carrying space, it would not have been the right car for me. The interior comfort is virtually non-existent. The fuel consumption is pretty heavy. They're slow and taxing to drive, even by 1960s standards. What's more, their reliability is notoriously patchy, and as such cost a lot to maintain, even if you do it yourself. I would also seldom have use for the off-roading capabilities of a 4x4.
Next went the Volvo Amazon. As far as I have read the Amazon is a brilliant car, and quite out of the ordinary. However, they are incredibly scarce these days, and as such are expensive when they come up for sale. I imagine parts would also be difficult and expensive to locate.
Third to go was the Mini. Don't get me wrong, I'm extremely fond of the Mini; show me a British classic car fan who isn't. However, I found out that getting a Mini of a similar vintage to a Minor, Beetle, Amazon or Series II Land Rover would be much more expensive than any of the former, and whilst I was not averse to getting a later Mini, it does make it that much less special. What's more I really wanted something rear-wheel drive, and I'm a big chap; 6ft 5" to be exact, and I also have friends and stuff to move sometimes, and a car the size of a Mini just wouldn't do in those situations.
Next off the list was the Capri. You might be surprised that I considered it at all, with the mk.3 being 20 years newer than the other cars on my shortlist. They also hold a questionable image with older generations (see Bodie and Doyle). However, I really like the way the Capri looks, especially in black. What's more, being a much more modern car than the others, it's faster, safer, better equipped and easier to get parts for. However, because of those same reasons, it's just not as special, or as good looking, as any of the others. I would also lose out on the free road tax.
Last to go was the Beetle. This one was a bit different, as it wasn't so much what was bad about the Beetle, but more of what the Minor has that the Beetle doesn't. As it turned out this was mainly value for money, Britishness, and looks. In the last 10 years or so, Beetles have got rather more scarce in Britain, so much so that it's not hard to find left hand drive imports for sale nowadays, and see rust-free Australian cars commanding big bucks. Whilst I could still afford a good early 70s Beetle, ones made before 1967 have slightly better styling, mainly round the headlights and bootlid, and as such are much more expensive. Minors are much cheaper and easier to find. In the looks department, it is obviously a subjective thing, but looking at the two cars side by side, the Beetle looks somewhat silly, whereas I see the Minor has elegant but strong British styling. What's more, the Minor is a British classic, and it really means something to own on in Britain, and conjures up a lot of positive feelings with people here. I'm not saying the Beetle is disliked in this country, far from it, but it just doesn't have the little bit extra that the Moggy has. Also, VW made a whopping 23 million Beetles, whereas only 1.5 million Minors were made, with 85% of them being exported, which makes the Moggy a much more exclusive motor. What's more, the Moggy has history in my own family, as it does in most British families. My grandparents had one, and my mum's first boyfriend drove one.
So, I made my choice, to get a Minor. I intensified my research and discovered that there are four main eras, if you will, of the Moggy in it's production time from 1948 through to 1971, and that they differ quite a bit through that time. I'll go into the history of the car a bit more in another post.
I quickly established that the version I wanted was the later Minor 1000, produced from 1962 through to the end of production in 1971. With these models, you benefit from the most powerful engine and best transmission the Moggy was equipped with, and proper flashing indicators instead of trafficators. Also, being that the majority of the Minors made were 1000 models, and that they are the newest Minors, they're a lot easier to find and cheaper to buy.
I then had to choose the bodyshape I wanted. The choice was between the 2-door and 4-door saloon, the convertible, the traveller estate, van and pickup. I discovered that vans and pickups, as well as being rare and expensive, are built on a separate chassis, as opposed to the standard monocoque construction of the other cars. This would make them heavier, slower and not as good in the handling department. Also, I have no need or use for a van or pickup, so they were discounted first. Next to go was the traveller, which despite being easier to find, is just as expensive, probably down to the lovely half-wood construction, which is both desirable and a pain in the arse when it rots away. For similar reasons the convertible went next. They command similar prices to travellers, and the roof would no doubt cause me some hassle. Also, I think they look a bit silly. That left me to choose between the 2-door and 4-door saloons. You might think that the 4-door would be the obvious choice, but I don't really like the way it makes the car look. It makes the side of it look a bit fussy, and the monocoque has greater integrity when only two large bits of it can move instead of four. What's more, as on cars made to this day, the two door has longer front doors, and when you're 6ft 5" that really helps when you get in. What's more, I'd learned with my 5-door Swift that having back doors is not that useful when you hardly ever have more than one passenger.
So with my bodyshape narrowed down, I next chose an ideal colour scheme; black with a red interior. I even had an ideal year of production; 1967, for reasons mainly relating to music. With everything mapped out, I dived into the online world of pistonheads, autotrader, and car and classic.
In February 2010, at 18 years of age, I passed my driving test, a momentous occasion in the life of any youngster. On top of that, my parents had promised me that, because I had been such a good boy and got into university, they would buy me a car and pay all the running costs for me (sans petrol). Unfortunately, as so often happens in this scenario, my parents wanted to buy me one sort of car, and I wanted one that was very different. I wanted, it may surprise your to learn, a VW Beetle, the proper one, of course. My dad was actually somewhat keen on the idea at first, as he drove across Australia with my mum back in the early 80s in a VW camper, and knows the brilliance of the air-cooled engine. However, after telling my mother of my excellent choice of vehicle, she flatly refused and became flustered, telling me that it was an old deathtrap with no airbags and that I would crash and that I would die in a mangled mess of metal and fire, or words to that effect. This lead to some arguments where I think I presented a pretty strong case for the Beetle. However, it was all pretty much academic as my parents were in charge of the cheque book, not I. In the end, they insisted that I could choose whatever car I wanted, as long as it was a 21st century creation and had no more than 1.5 litres in its engine. As a compromise, however, they said that after two years of driving a modern car, if I still wanted a Beetle, I would be allowed to sell my current car, and use the sale money to buy one for myself. My guess is that they were hoping I'd come to realise the benefits of modern cars and that I'd want to stick with it after that time.
So it was that I ended up with this:
This is a 2007 Suzuki Swift. It has a 1.3 litre twin cam straight-4 engine which kicks out about 90 horsepower to the front wheels, and a 5-speed manual gearbox. It set my dad back £6500 and had 26500 miles on the clock when it was given to me. You're probably thinking that, because I was a fickle teenager, I chose it because it has cool alloy wheels, stripes on the bonnet and a chequered roof. It's fair to say that I chose this particular one for those features (it had a boot spoiler and chrome exhaust tip too), but I also really liked the Swift in general. Ever since it appeared on our roads in 2005 and the ads come on the TV, I had always liked the way it looked. I also liked it because it was Japanese, and I love Japanese cars because of their legendary reliability and cheapness to operate and work on among many other things (although I found out later that Swifts sold in Europe are actually assembled in Hungary).
I drove this car for two years, covering 8000 miles, and I liked it. It's a good looking car, very nippy, fun to drive when you put your foot down, and easy to drive when you don't. It got me around 45mpg, and besides needing new brake pads and tyres, it never missed a beat. My friends like it too. However, after two years, I still wanted shot of it, much to the disappointment of my parents. But they honoured our agreement, and allowed me to put the car up for sale in January of this year. The ball had begun to roll.
Hello and welcome to my blog! I decided to create it after reading a couple of other blogs; tinworm's blog about his Austin 101 restoration, and, more relevantly, ourlondontaxi's blog about using an old FX4 black cab as a daily family car. I noticed two things about these blogs; firstly, they're both quite interesting reads, and secondly, they're both blogspots. I've had a blog on tumblr for about a year now, and haven't really been updating it that much. That's partly because the blog itself doesn't really have a direction or main subject, but mostly because tumblr is an utterly awful website. That's not because of the design of the site; in fact I think it's a very well thought out and coded website, but mainly due to the people that dominate it, namely, 16 year old girls who constantly post about how much they like that idiot boy at school/how much they love their idiot boyfriend/how much they hate life because their idiot boyfriend left them/how cool slitting your wrists is/how much they like rubbish teen bands, endlessly reposting pictures of tattoos/ridiculous piercings/animated gifs of guys kissing/utterly stupid and incomprehensible captioned pictures, and generally whining and begging for attention. Making a mockery of the English language also seems to be a priority for them.
But I digress. Suffice to say tumblr is crap, and I've had enough of it. So here I am on blogspot, which I'm hoping will be a much more mature place. I can also access it through my google account, which is splendid. I'm also giving this blog a proper subject matter. As you've no doubt seen by this point, this is living with a Morris Minor, the lovable and thoroughly brilliant little car that got post-war Britain on its feet, or, more accurately, its wheels. When I say "living with" I really mean it. The Minor is not a toy that I bought for sunny weekends and country lanes. It is my only car, and I use it for everything. I am 21 years old, and a student, and with this blog I hope to prove that even in today's world and at this precarious stage of my life, it is not just possible, but perfectly easy to live with a car that was designed in the 1940s and went out of production over 40 years ago, and that you don't have to be an old fart, or a trained mechanic, or have a Swiss bank account to do so. If this interests you, read on.
