Imp by nature: Scotland’s answer to the Mini
Linwood’s ubiquitous Hillman Imp managed to briefly capture the zeitgeist, but failed to secure a favourable legacy, says David Mclean
MARKETED as a Scottish rival to the legendary Austin Mini, the Hillman Imp sold well but failed to shake off an unreliable reputation.
Intent on designing a new economy car to rival the iconic Mini, Coventry-based car makers, the Rootes Group, had received a state subsidy to build a new plant in an area of high unemployment. In September 1960 it was announced that Rootes had settled on Linwood in Renfrewshire. The site would go on to employ more than 9,000 people at its height.
Production of the Imp didn’t quite go as planned, though. The early workforce at Linwood was mostly made up of ex-shipyard personnel with the odd Rootes veteran thrown in, but in many cases, new recruits had to be sent down south to receive training.
Productivity was also be hampered by frequent industrial disputes. Compact models were in vogue after the Suez Crisis, and the Imp, while never able to match the Mini, sold well - especially in Scotland. With an 875cc rear-mounted engine the wee motor could do 0 to 50 in 15 seconds and had a top speed of 78mph. Variants included the Sunbeam Stiletto, the Californian, the esate-sized Hillman Husky, and the Singer Chamois. Hillman Imps were even adapted for police use.
The car was celebrated for its cutting-edge design principles and quirky features, but it wasn’t without its critics. A host of flaws, an inadequate cooling system, poor steering, gearbox and clutch problems, faulty chokes and tendency to leak water, saw the Imp develop a woeful reputation.
“My dad had the 65 model,” recalls Edinburgh support worker Brian Gordon, “It broke down constantly and struggled to start whenever it rained - which in Scotland wasn’t ideal. We countered the poor handling by placing a bag of cement in the front compartment.”
In 1967 the car gained eternal cultural significance when late Evening Times journalist John Quinn arranged for an Imp convoy to transport Celtic fans to Lisbon for the European Cup Final. “They drove through the Pyrenees like they were driving up Maryhill Road,” reminisced John many years later.
Last month, the journey was recreated by Celtic fans - 1967 Hillman Imp included - to mark 50 years since the Hoops lifted the cup.
The Hillman Imp also tasted some success as a racing and rally car. Fraser Imps, with the Saltire painted on to their roofs, became famous throughout the motorsport world and the iconic vehicles still compete in vintage races to this day. Despite its shortcomings the Hillman Imp would go on to become the most successful car model to ever come out of Scotland.
Collector David Lane, who has owned 40 Imps in his time, reckons the Linwood model was grossly underrated despite its foibles.
“I bought my first, a Sunbeam Stiletto, aged just 17 for the princely sum of £60. It had alloy wheels and a webasco sunroof and I was in love. It however wasn’t in love with me”, jokes David, “in fact I think it hated me as it conked out almost every week in the 7 years I had it.
“I later swapped the Stiletto for a 65 Singer Chamois. I’ve just about mastered the art of keeping these little terrors utterly reliable.
In total, almost half a million cars left the Linwood assembly line, but it wasn’t enough to prevent Rootes from going to the wall.
The firm was taken over by Chrysler, with the Imp ceasing production in 1976. Peugeot-citreon eventually purchased the factory before it closed too in 1981. And with that, car production in Scotland came to an end.
A retail park rose from the plant’s ashes, and the site is now more famous for car parking than car manufacturing. “I’m more surprised it actually lasted 12 years,” quipped David Lane. “How it plodded on with ever- worsening build quality built by, well, let’s say an unhappy workforce, is beyond me.”