1951 Riley RMD Drophead Coupé
In the same family ownership since 1962, this is a rare example from Britain’s most innovative main-stream car makers
Phil Ansell first saw the Riley in 1958. He was 12 years old and cars and motorcycles were all that mattered in life to him. His father Errol was M.T. (Motor Transport) officer at the RNZAF base at Wigram and had always been involved in the motor industry until his Upper Hutt garage burnt down in 1951. In 1953 he joined the Air Force and was posted to Wigram, and had little to with cars apart from a one-off entry in the saloon car race at Wigram in 1954.
The Base Commander was a former R.A.F. officer, Group Captain Theodore de Lange who had joined the RNZAF in 1952. His initial posting was to Whenuapai, later moving to Christchurch and Wigram and accompanying him was his Riley RMD which he had purchased new in 1951, one of only 503 to be built.
From 1958 it was the base M.T. Officer who de Lange would turn to for any maintenance or repairs which needed to be done and it seems that the C.O. was quite happy to let his M.T. use the car quite regularly.
Phil had always been told that the car was bought new at the Earls Court Motor Show but now he is not so sure this is actually the case. Riley factory records show the car was ready for delivery in Feb. 1951 and the Motor Show was in October. It would be very unlikely that a low production car like this would have sat around for the best part of eight months before being shown at something as important at Earls Court, where the manufacturers would normally only display the latest, top spec. cars from their range.
Still, there is a chance that possibly this car was built on spec. for the show and then put aside until October but who knows?
The RM range was last to be developed by Riley before their absorption as part of the Nuffield organisation into the new BMC conglomeration and the eventual end of both this very proud and innovative brand and the British motor industry itself as an independent entity. This car, an RMD is one of three to survive in New Zealand as well as one replica. Based on the chassis of the RMB saloon it runs the 2 ½ litre version of the Riley twin camshaft engine, the first seriesproduction car to have a hemispherical combustion chamber head and a very advanced unit especially when you realise it was a pre-war design.
Designing for the new post-war Riley began in 1942 but the war, followed by the desperate shortage of raw materials in the immediate post-war period meant the first prototype did not run until 1948 and production was only to start in 1950. The car was, like so many from the late 1940s, a modernised version of a pre-war design.
In the case of the RM, the chassis was simply the 1930s issue with the front cut off and modified. This however was no minor make-over. For a 1942 concept and from a maker of (albeit well above-average) sporting family cars, the RM Riley was state of the art and total confirmation of Riley’s marketing slogan “As old as the industry, as modern as the hour”. The new front end included an allnew, torsion bar front suspension set-up and rack and pinion steering.
If you didn’t know what the car was, the shape would very easy lead one to the conclusion the car was late 1930s German, maybe a BMW 327 or Mercedes-Benz 170 cabriolet.
The four speed gearbox had synchromesh on second, third and fourth gears and combined with the 100hp 2.5 litre engine, familiar to New Zealand race fans as the power unit of the Ransley Riley special. (As an aside, Phil purchased gaskets and a few other left-over parts from the Ransley’s in the 1980s as spares for the RMD.)
This gave a top speed in standard tune of 95mph (153km/h). Compared with the contemporary and rather asthmatic Ford Ten or Morris Eight, this was almost supercar performance.
Brakes were of an unusual design. The front utilised Lockheed hydraulic twin leading shoes while the rear was left to make do with a rod-actuated mechanical arrangement. Most peculiar but when we took the car for an extended drive in the Port Hills above Christchurch to take photographs, they certainly worked very effectively.
The Drophead coupé body was built using traditional British coach building techniques, steel panels over an ash frame, in this case using aluminium for the bonnet and doors to aid weight-saving.
But what really struck me when viewing the Riley for the first time was the unquestionably Germanic styling.
If you didn’t know what the car was, the shape of the doors and hood, complete with over-sized chrome plated landau irons, would very easy lead one to the conclusion the car was late 1930s German, maybe a BMW 327 or Mercedes-Benz 170 cabriolet. I mentioned that to Phil and rather than laughing at me, he gave a very likely reason for this Teutonic influence.
In 1939, one of the cars belonging to the German Embassy in London was an elegant BMW Cabriolet (likely a 327/28). With the outbreak of War, obviously the Germans left town in rather a hurry and one of the things left behind was the car.
And where was it last seen? Disappearing into the Riley factory! So it is quite likely that it is more than coincidence that the styling is more German than British and with the long bonnet and sweeping front mudguards, the Riley carries it off well.
On the odd Saturday, Gp. Capt. de Lange (or “Groupie” when he was out of earshot) would bring the Riley to the Ansell’s home for small jobs to be attended to. To 12 year old Phil, he was a fascinating visitor, telling stories of his first cars.
As was common at the time, the Riley was ‘Hollywoodised’ – given a shiny coat of metallic paint and a new hood. It was the hood colour and materiel which was to give Phil the biggest headache when it came to returning the car to its correct look
The tale of the Ford T was found particularly amusing. De Lange and a school friend bought the car and modified the steering, cutting some holes in the bodywork to provide forward vision so it looked like no-one was driving, then they proceeded to drive through the nearby villages to the alarm and consternation of the perplexed locals.
As was common at the time, the Riley was “Hollywoodised” as Phil describes it. During Gp. Capt. de Lange’s time at Whenaupai, it was given a shiny coat of metallic paint and a new hood. The inside linings and quilting were left original with the material change on the outside to get away from the oldfashioned woven canvas look to a more modern (for 1954) vinyl style to match the new paint colour, recalled by Phil as a youngster as Dulux “Desert Sand”.
It was the hood colour and materiel which was to give Phil the biggest headache when it came to returning the car to its correct look. The giveaway for the correct colour and material style it turned out, after much head-scratching, was staring him in the face all along – the original tonneau cover which had remained with the car, complete with chrome domes, leather straps, was of course made from the same material as the hood, pretty much the same colour as a corrugated cardboard box.
The change of colour and hood weren’t the only changes which had been made to the car. Lucas PL headlights had been fitted, indicators had replaced the trafficators, the battery had migrated from its normal mounting under the scuttle to under the floor and at the same time, the electrical system had been converted to negative earth and a 2 1/2 inch exhaust exited in front of the left rear wheel.
In Phil’s words, “for 1958, that car could haul!”
He recalls a weekend after his father had tuned the car and it was decided to take a trip to Hanmer Springs. On a long straight they had a dice with a modified Mk1 Zephyr and as the Riley finally pulled ahead, the needle on the goldfaced 100 mph Jaeger speedo was sitting on the P of the M P H at the bottom of the gauge as it was about to start its second revolution.
“I got a bollocking from my parents for giving the occupants of the Zephyr ‘the fingers’. Well, they were wearing Christ’s College uniform, I went to St Andrew’s and I was in uniform so it seemed fair to me. ”
To Phil’s great disappointment, the Riley left Christchurch and the Ansell family’s part-time care when Gp. Capt. de Lange was posted to Wellington in 1961, but it turned out to only be a brief parting.
In late 1962, “Groupie” called Errol Ansell. The Riley was for sale, was he interested in buying it?
That was not a difficult decision to make and Phil still recalls the large pile of red £100 notes his father counted out carefully before making the trip north to Christchurch to take delivery of the car.
The car saw plenty of hard use, both in the hands of “Groupie” and Errol Ansell, Phil recalling a family trip to Auckland from Christchurch towing a caravan (and 1960’s caravans were not noted for their lightweight construction) at very high speed.
What was one of the main causes of concern for a time was tyre consumption. On its original 165/15 cross-plies, it would devour a set every 3500 miles. With the fitting of Michelin X radials (another pre-war design to have stood the test of time) suddenly the car could travel in excess of 30 000 miles before needing new rubber.
Sadly, Errol only got to enjoy his treasured Riley for a year, passing away in 1964. However the car remained in Ansell ownership, Phil’s mother Helen taking it over and “kept it safe from my brothers!”
From 1964 to 2006 it only covered 5000 miles before finally coming into Phil’s full ownership and then became what he describes as the “waking it up” process.
One of the most expensive exercises during restoring the car was the hood, both in replacing the materiel, but more in having to replace the ash hood bows which were full of nail holes and could not be re-used.
Gallingly, they are completely covered and cannot be seen at all.
Inside, the leather seats are original, with that wonderful patina which only a well cared-for and equally well used cow hide can exhibit.
Equally the wooden door caps and dash are the ones the car left the Riley works with almost 64 years ago.
Specific to the RM, all the gauges are gold-faced with black lettering and sit centrally in a darker veneered panel than the wood surrounding it and it is as British as Queen Victoria’s lounge!
People with experience of the British soft top may be thinking that a convertible from the 1950s may not be the logical choice in family transport. Yet wrestling with an MBG or Morgan hood in the pouring rain for an hour or so in a vain attempt to obtain some sort of weather-proofing only to find that it flaps, lets the wind and bits of rain in as well, was not always as good as it could get.
The Riley has a double layer, padded top which actually fixes firmly to the windscreen and the wind-up windows have a solid frame to seal against.
On the open road there is no real difference between the Drophead and any closed car from the same era.
No draughts and according to Phil, no leaks either with of course the added bonus that when the sun comes out (not much more common in Christchurch than Britain!) the hood folds down (just undo the two clamps where it attaches to the ‘screen, lift it back and it folds neatly at the rear) and you have a very civilised full four seater convertible.
Cars of this era with a continuous known history, and basically only two owners (certainly only two families) are unusual and that alone makes the Riley an interesting story.
But for me it is the fact that the person who cared for the car in its early days got to own it and his son is maintaining that link which was the story for me.
And better still, he used the car with the same enthusiasm he had as the 12 year old boy who first saw it, 55 years ago.