The Way We Were
June 1960, Brighton
Alate spring day in Brighton and parked on the left-hand side of the road is a PA-series Vauxhall Velox in pre-August 1959 ‘threewindow’ guise – and sporting some very tasteful mock leopard skin seat covers. The dark-coloured Ford Consul convertible MkI has its roof opened to the coupe-de-ville position and looks as though it was parked in rather a hurry.
If that Jaguar MkI 3.4-litre – note the cutaway spats – had been ordered in manual transmission form, it would have had acceleration figures very close to that of the XK150.
Meanwhile, the Standard Vanguard estate was emphatically not renowned for its performance, for this was a car more associated with National Service (especially in the RAF) and steady progress regardless of the road conditions. Few of the motorists or pedestrians in this street would have guessed that the Standard marque name had only three and a half more years until its demise in the UK.
That Ford Zephyr MkII has been left rather too close to the junction and it is not certain if the pedestrian is scowling at the Ford or at the Audax-series Hillman Minx that is just disappearing out of the left of the frame.
The duo-tone Humber Hawk manages to look simultaneously jaunty and formidable (an achievement that is more difficult than it first looks) but let us cross the road to appreciate an MG Magnette ZB Varitone (with aftermarket sunroof ) and a quartet of Dagenham’s finest before we become too engrossed in fine Rootesmobiles. Of the two 100E saloons, the white example looks like a Popular, which would remain in production until 1962 as cheap, if not overly luxurious family transport – opening front quarter lights, a courtesy lamp and ashtrays were all on the extras list of the standard version.
Two cars along is a Consul MkII, which only needs a roof rack to be ready for a trip to Paradise Holiday Camp (shades of Carry On Camping), but it’s the Anglia 105E that really anchors the photo in time; the ‘New Anglia’ seemed to offer a motorist quasi-Hollywood glamour on a Merton Park Studios’ budget when it debuted in late 1959, and although its lines would be dated the moment the Beatles’ Please Please Me LP hit record shops in 1963, it is the epitome of affordable chic for now.
Walking down the hill, we encounter two vehicles that would have been vulnerable to that year’s new Ministry of Transport test. The Austin Eight appears to be a pre-war model judging by its lack of bumper overriders and along with its deadly rival, the Morris Eight, might have been found in a a local motor trader’s ‘£50 Special’ section. The gulf between their images and that of the early Vauxhall Victor F saloon was vast – and the same applies to the Series 2 (slightly more restrained grille and decorations) estate.
Both Vauxhalls look as though they belong in a suburb of New York or Vancouver rather than on the roads of Sussex, an impression that is exacerbated by the vehicle they are sandwiching. The fork-axle Reliant van lasted – in Regent form – until 1956 and this version in the picture would have been an (exceptionally) cheap way of conveying up to four people around, plus providing better weather protection than any motorcycle-sidecar combination could hope to offer.
Of all the machinery in shot, their owners whiling away the day over an espresso and a vanilla slice in the café, it is the Reliant that is perhaps my favourite. Put simply, it illustrates the surreal charm of motoring life in 1960.