John Simister
John considers treating himself to a new motor…
A car from the year of his birth tickles John’s fancy.
Iam a child of the Fifties. Born in October 1954, to be more precise. It’s said that enthusiasts of classics cars tend to focus their affections on cars they remember from their youth. So, as time goes on, the years most popular with old-car fanciers move along with it.
And that means the once-coveted earlier cars fall out of favour as, to be brutal, those who liked such cars die off. Particularly interesting earlier cars stay desirable because they are fine things in their own right or have great car-cultural significance: vintage Bentleys, Bugattis, Jaguar XKS, early Astons, even early Beetles and Citroën DS models. But the less-blessed gradually fall out of favour while the pages of the classic-car press contain ever more Nineties cars and even a smattering of millennials.
Even so, I still like the idea of owning car as old as I am or maybe even older. My memories of being a small child are full of such machinery – even pre-war cars were still to be seen in use every day, and something like a Jowett Javelin was almost modern – so I thought I’d check on what new cars were launched during 1954.
The cars of ’54
It was not a vintage year. The high spots were the AC Aceca, the Alfa Romeo Giulietta, the Borgward Isabella, the first Facel Vega, the Panhard Dyna Z and the Simca Vedette, although new derivatives of existing cars – Hillman Husky, Jaguar XK140, Vauxhall Cresta – also appeared. Of those, the Alfa and the Panhard have an affordable appeal to me, but over the past few weeks I’ve also had a sudden stirring for a car launched the previous year.
Clue: it was designed by Gerald Palmer, as were the Javelin and a further 1954 debutant, the Wolseley 6/90. A close relative of the car in question had been launched in 1952 and looked quite like a smaller 6/90: it was the Wolseley 4/44.
A year later, BMC’S Abingdon outpost revealed its own version that sat lower and more racily on its underpinnings, so that very few body panels ended up being shared. This was the MG Magnette, the first car to be powered by the 1489cc upgrade to BMC’S B-series engine. I’ve had occasional bursts of acquisitive lust for such a Magnette over the years, and it has just happened again.
Why? Isn’t it a bit, well, conventional for someone who likes technical intrigue in his cars and would normally resist anything with a leaf-sprung live axle unless there are strong redeeming features elsewhere? Well, I think these Magnettes look great, especially the original ZA version with the chrome trim that curls around the front wheelarch then spears off rearwards at a tangent. They have a remarkable dashboard, a study in half-octagonal cabinet making, and with their rack-and-pinion steering and modern dampers they have a reputation for excellent handling. And I saw a 1955 example for sale in Wales that addressed all the key reasons why I might otherwise resist.
A Magnette for the modern world
The Magnette is, by today’s standards of usability, a bit slow and undergeared. Not this one: it had an MGB engine and the matching overdrive gearbox. An alternator and period-look halogen headlights perked up the electrics, and servo-assisted front discs were ready to counter the enhanced pace.
Here was the ideal Magnette. It was even in the best colour as far as I was concerned, the rich dark red also worn by my French teacher’s ZA when I was at school. The restoration looked top-notch as far as I could tell from the pictures. Fifties perfection, with a discreet update. I was smitten.
Next, the research. This included no fewer than four PC buying guides and several other features in PC and its past Popular Classics stablemate. I drove another Magnette (a ZB) offered for sale close to home, one which I had seen for sale before and had admired then, and it was utterly charming.
So, why isn’t there now a Magnette in my garage? As I can’t justify another classic car on top of the three I have, and I can’t bear to part with any of those. I thought the Saab might be in danger, but I just couldn’t do it. We’ve been through too much together, and it was the last car in which I drove with my father. One day, though, the urge to have another classic to play with will be unbearable and something will have to give. What, I have no idea.