Bristol 411
The Bristol 411 was another product of a company where engineers called the shots. Bristol had its roots in tram cars and then aircraft, and was kept busy with the latter throughout World War Two. As the war drew to a close Bristol looked to diversify, and car making seemed a good option. The company acquired the rights to BMW’S wellregarded pre-war cars and its 2.0-litre six-cylinder engine, together with the services of engineer Fritz Fiedler. The motor was a strange one, with opposed overhead valves operated by pushrods – one set conventionally, and the other set by an arrangement of rockers and short secondary pushrods. It reached its development zenith in 1960, then Bristol adopted a 5.2-litre V8 supplied by Chrysler of Canada, giving the 407 of 1961 substantially improved performance. A restyle for the 408, followed by detail improvements in the 409 and 410, led to the 411 of 1969 with a new 6.2-litre engine and even more power. This car is a 1971 Series 2, the last version before a four-lamp front-end restyle and the introduction of lower-compression engines. Many Bristol buffs see it as the high watermark of the marque.
The engine’s creamy smoothness is apparent as soon as you pull away, and all it takes to unleash the V8’s potential is a firm push on the accelerator pedal. The white needle on the Smiths rev counter flicks upwards as the Torqueflite transmission slurs down to intermediate, then the nose lifts and the Bristol surges forwards, but still with barely a murmur from the big-block motor up ahead. It’s as quiet as a contemporary Rolls-royce, but far more composed and capable when the road turns twisty. Roll is well controlled for a big machine of this era, and there’s useful feedback at the compact, narrow-rimmed wheel to give you confidence to push harder. The twin-servo brakes feel strong and tireless. Thanks to the power of the engine and the fine chassis, the Bristol hustles along give-andtake roads far faster than its statuesque appearance suggests it should, though its sheer size means it ultimately feels more at home on gently sweeping A-roads which it can eat up with ease.
The Bristol’s performance and the manner in which it’s delivered would be enticing enough, but it’s a car that has plenty more to offer. The cabin has acres of supple, gently patinated black leather, complemented by a dashboard faced in honey-coloured walnut veneer. There’s a logical layout – as you would expect from a company with its roots in aircraft engineering – with the heater controls in the centre and seven gauges grouped into a pod and carefully arranged so that none is obscured by the wheel rim. The airy cabin has plenty of space up front and while rear passengers have a job to get aboard past the folded-forward front seats, once ensconced in the rear they find there’s plenty of room for them too.
Bristols were built to the highest standards but there is potential for trouble – and especially for hidden hazards – in the chassis and body. The steel box-section chassis can rust in the sills, outriggers and suspension mounting points. The body panels are aluminium but mounted on a steel frame, and if water becomes trapped between the two, galvanic corrosion is likely. This won’t be visible until the outer panels are removed, and restoration will be as
‘Roll is well controlled for a big machine of this era, and there’s useful feedback to give you confidence to push harder’
eye-wateringly expensive as any other hand-built body, so when buying, inspection by an expert is essential to avoid nasty surprises.
Interior work is also likely to be expensive because the materials are all top-notch, but virtually everything is hand-made so at least individual parts can be removed and restored relatively simply. Make sure that the interior is complete – sourcing replacement parts is likely to be difficult and costly. The fusebox and battery are in the front-wing compartment on the right (driver’s) side, so if the water seal fails electrical problems can result. Brakes and suspension rarely give trouble, but these are heavy cars so wear is inevitable. The Chrysler engines are long-lasting, good for 200,000 miles or more between rebuilds, and they are largely trouble-free if well maintained, as are the Torqueflite transmissions. Despite the rarity of these cars there is an enthusiastic club and there is plenty of support from the manufacturer itself for its older cars. Running cars are rarely seen below £50,000 and concours examples sell for £100,000 or more. Even at that price, it’s a lot of class for the money.