SPOT THE DIFFERENCE
more successful variants spring.’ But by 1977 Autocar had covered 24,000 miles in the car and its tone had changed: ‘What a pity that British Leyland did their too-familiar trick of introducing an attractive new model and then failing to produce them.’ Design and production faults – timing chain failure, feeble main bearings, overheating from water pump failure and warped cylinder head castings – hurt Stag sales. Instead of the planned 12,000 cars per year, the model’s entire 1970-77 production run resulted in only 25,877 cars, of which 6780 went overseas. The little-altered MkII – most obviously recognisable externally by its new five-spoke wheels – was introduced in 1973 but the mooted and highly-promising fastback coupé variant failed to materialise and was finally quietly axed. A lack of markets (the Stag had been withdrawn from the US by this point) plus the fact that it was powered by a unique and expensive-to-build V8 were enough to kill it off. This MkI’s Damson bodywork is a rare blend of Seventies subtlety and elegance. The narrow cabin has an endearing feel to it but forces you to adopt a curiously upright driving position. Instrumentation is comprehensive, even if the opulence is a little lacking (vinyl seats and slab-like light wood that lacks the richness of walnut); naturally, Triumph’s trademark ‘pie-chart’ cluster is in place, although its vital temperature warning ‘slice’ does tend to disappear behind the steering wheel rim worryingly often. Fire up the V8, though, and... oh my giddy aunt! Accelerate and the idling 145bhp V8’s tempo increases to that of a drum solo – for some reason, reminding me of the intro to the Jimi Hendrix song Gypsy Eyes. It’s all very groovy and highly addictive and you soon realise that you’ve been hypnotised by the engine’s unmistakable beat. The Stag doesn’t possess the SL’s bulk and it’s far more direct, nimble and, yes, sporty. All of which explains why this Triumph had few, if any, direct competitors in period. It rides well, but without the SL’s floating-ona-marshmallow-cloud sensation and the incredibly light power-assisted rack-andpinion steering has a positivity and speed that eludes the Mercedes’ steering box. Traditionally the manual four-speed/overdrive is the Stag gearbox of choice, but I would venture that this three-speed automatic is far more suited to the Stag’s GT calling. Okay, it doesn’t have the stability of the SL, and under roll the steering does go unnervingly light on initial acquaintance, but these are points of pedantry – unlike the big question prowling around my consciousness with growing frustration – how did Triumph and BL manage to mess up such a capable and charismatic GT?
‘Adjust your mindset from ASBO to GT and the Merc is a powerful antidote to 2021’