MARCOS DECISION TIME
Having a long, narrow driveway is not something to complain about, but it has its issues. To take the Mini Marcos for a drive, I have to park the green modern shopper in the street, then move the 1947 Bentley out into the street, then move the big Chevy van into the street. Then I have to get the Mini Marcos out from under its little tent, which it needs because it’s not very waterproof, wriggle it out of the back garden, drive it along the driveway and out into the street, and park it while I put the van, the Bentley and the modern back into the driveway. Then I can go for a drive in the Mini Marcos.
This has not been happening. Okay, I’m certainly busy with all sorts of projects, including sorting out the garage to be functional as a car-building facility, pushing the Ayrspeed Bentley special project, pushing the two-door Silver Cloud convertible project, finishing my hopefullynot-too-large book on Specials, writing articles for magazines and sorting out the mess resulting from moving from a sixbedroom house to a two-bedroom house. But not being bothered about playing with the Mini Marcos suggests a deeper automotive malady.
The main reason for finishing the Marcos was to finish it after 12 years of pushing it aside as more urgent and more interesting projects presented themselves. It was nearly finished for ages, with all the mechanicals restored and an engine built by Mini guru Martin Webber to my own spec, but in the end I ran out of time, and sent the rolling Mini Marcos off to Mike Smith of the Victoria BC Mini club, who has retired from boring work and now builds excellent Minis instead.
The final details of a build take the longest, but the car was eventually ready after I’d left BC, and it was shipped onward to the UK. There was a horrible moment when the UK clerks inspecting it for import noticed that the engine had no number, as it had been ground off ten years back when the head and block were skimmed for proven flatness and for more compression. The reason for checking the numbers is to find stolen engines, but as I pointed out, a random 1100cc Mini engine is literally not worth stealing. With that resolved, the Marcos got its UK plates.
It was in storage in Norfolk when the V5 arrived, and stayed there for a bit until I found time to fetch it. The barn had turned out to be a sauna with a damp floor, so the interior was mouldy and smelly.
The inaugural drive for the still brandnew engine was 400 miles, from Norfolk to Helensburgh. The headlights were still rather feeble period sealed beam units, so finding the small hotel on the black and rainy Yorkshire moors for the overnight stop on the way north was mildly hairy, but the Marcos made it to its new home. I still have to carry out the first oil change, and then it’s good to go for the rest of the running-in process, mixing different RPM and giving it progressively more exercise at higher revs.
The car does do what it was designed to do, and my adaptations have been successful. The Mazda Miata seats are excellent, with proper head restraints. (The unused original 1974 low-back buckets remain with the car.) The retractable harnesses attached to a transverse bar across the back of the car offer good crash protection, although the plakky monocoque doesn’t. The low-rpm torque in the 1100lb car provides a healthy amount of urge, and although I’m resisting the temptation to let the engine rip until it’s run in, I can feel the potential power in it. The diff has a high ratio to provide low cruising revs and to use fewer gearchanges between the cones. The sidedraught Weber makes a fine 1970s induction bark, and the single silencer sounds cheeky but doesn’t drone when cruising. Perfect.
The smallest available full-height tyres 145/80 – achieve a well-weighted contact patch, and the taller sidewalls ameliorate the brutality of the suspension. (Standard new Mini rubber cones for a 1700lb steel car are uprated by 50% when used on an 1100lb fibreglass car.) The handling remains astonishing. It feels like a low-end single seat racer, and makes an ordinary steel Mini feel like a bus full of fat people.
Why, then, is it still in its tent in the back garden and not being hurled round miniroundabouts and wriggly mountain roads without slowing down? It was important to actually finish the Mini Marcos rather than letting it join the long list of sensibly abandoned projects, but I did wonder if I would end up liking it. 25 years back, I borrowed the yellow Marcos Heritage factory demo for a jaunt around Europe with my photographer friend Paul, which was why I wanted one. Maybe I should repeat that trip and then make up my mind. Paul is up for another amble around France and Benelux, no worries.
The whole build process was fairly expensive, as this is virtually a brand new 1974 car. I deliberately retained the left hand drive, as it makes little difference on a tiny car, but I wanted the option to get my money back by selling it in Europe. It’s almost illegal in France and Belgium to buy an interesting non-mainstream car, and while Mini Marcos values in the UK are weirdly low, the prices in Euros can be very healthy indeed for a correctly registered Marcos. I’ll give it a proper trial road trip before making up my mind, but now that the project is finished, I’m looking at it sometimes and thinking maybe I’d rather be driving a TR6.
The main reason for finishing the Marcos was to finish it after 12 years of pushing it aside as more urgent and more interesting projects presented themselves