Five Trials – we test the car that served Rootes well for 14 years
Rootes’ Audax range was nearing its end when this improved, but traditional-looking, Gazelle leapt from the factory. We try it for size
British car design didn’t hang about during the 1950s and 1960s. Major marques had ditched the curvaceous but heavyweight and lumpen shapes of the 1950s within a few brief years in favour of the lightweight but square-cut styles of the 1960s. Think Ford Consul Classic to Cortina, original A40 Cambridge to the Farina version, Vauxhall Victor F to its FB and FC successors… And then there was Rootes, a company that always seemed to favour over-engineering to penny-pinching, and whose small Audax Hillman Minxes, Singer Gazelles and Sunbeam Rapiers were firmly planted in the 1950s. Despite constant tweaks, including a freshening up in 1963 that flattened out their previously rounded appearance, the models were definitely showing their age by the mid-1960s.
It’s one of the post-facelift cars – a 1965 MkV Gazelle – that we’re driving here. It’s still very pretty, even though the voluptuous curves have been partially shed. Dark green with a contrasting side-flash is a colour combination that’s highly evocative of its era, and the plunging chrome grille flanked by two decorative horizontal slats combine to create a face that’s both dignified and friendly. This is middle class personified, slotting in neatly between the mainstream Minx and racy Rapier.
That impression continues inside. The dashboard is a big chunk of polished timber, complemented by matching door cappings. Individual vinyl front seats are expansive enough to almost form a bench, thanks to the Rootes tradition of having the handbrake to the right of the driver. The large, horn-ringed steering wheel is imposing and you need to wriggle your way underneath it rather than step in. There’s no rev counter – Rapier only for that, for why would an owner of a refined carriage like a Gazelle need to be concerned with such fripperies? – its place taken instead by a combined gauge informing on amps, oil and water. Far more important.
Pull the choke out and the 1592cc engine coughs politely into life at the first twist of the dash-mounted key. The engine is very smooth and quiet, the mellow chatter of the tappets recalling the sewing devices that the other famous Singer company made. At the other end is a muted exhaust burble, somewhat reminiscent of a Morris Minor.
The initial surprise when underway is how light and breezy this solidly built car feels. Once beyond the initial heavy steering – caused by the combination of radial tyres and low speed – the wheel becomes so featherweight that it’s genuinely difficult to believe it’s not power-assisted. If anything, it’s almost too light – but that ease of use isn’t anything to do with wear in the system, for this Gazelle has only covered just over 43,000 miles. Its steering remains as tight and responsive as any wormand-nut system can be.
There’s an endearing gentle whine through the gears until you reach fourth, and the Gazelle doesn’t feel like it takes long to get there. The clutch is easy on your left leg, the gearstick just as effortless in your left hand. It’s slicker than a mass-produced car over half a century old probably has any right to be. Available puff begins to diminish round 60mph, and the lack of overdrive – an option on these cars – becomes noticeable. But that’s still a good pace to bowl along at.
Competent handling is another welcome aspect; the ride is a bit bouncy, but it’s not enough to unsettle the Singer, and corners can be taken with alacrity without the nagging fear that the rear end might misbehave, despite the traditional rear leaf springs and live axle. With capable front disc brakes reining everything in, this Singer may look like it is rooted in the ’50s, but the attention to details means it’s as sprightly as most of its contemporaries.