Morris Traveller
MINOR MIRACLE
The Morris Minor was a hit from the first day it was shown to the British public in 1948 at the British International Motor Show. Better known for his Mini, this car too was designed by Alec Issigonis, and was almost as sensational. It also proved wildly popular both at home and in overseas dominions. The Minor boasted a contemporary unit-constructed body, torsion-bar front suspension, rack-andpinion steering, and a lowish centre of gravity achieved by using small 133mm size tyres on 14-inch wheels. This innovative design was state of the art for small car development and years ahead of the pre-war engineering that could be found under most of the European economy cars of the time.
Along with the four-seat convertible and saloon variants, an estate version was introduced, known as the Traveller — a Morris naming tradition for estates, also seen on the Mini. There was also a van version with an all-steel rear body and a pickup.
In 1962 the Morris Minor 1000 was upgraded with the more powerful 1098cc engine, which provided better performance and, what was considered at the time, relaxed cruising. The final improvements were made in 1964 and were confined to a two-spoke steering wheel, revised seats and switchgear, and the replacement of the pull-start button with a much more modern combined starter/ignition switch.
As an everyday classic, the Morris Minor makes sense. Unlike most classic cars, you can keep these little cars running almost indefinitely, as all the parts you will ever need — and there are not many of them in the whole car — are cheap and plentiful. Morris Minors are familiar friends to most classicminded drivers and they are still gaining in popularity. The enduring affection for the ‘Moggie’, as it is known in Britain, or ‘Morrie’, as we Kiwis liked to call it, makes it likely that the number of restored and improved examples on the road will only increase.
Unlike most classic cars, you can keep these little cars running almost indefinitely, as all the parts you will ever need — and there are not many of them in the whole car — are cheap and plentiful
Many of us hold fond memories of our very first car. I was recently reminded of mine when I saw Derek and Gail Goddard’s beautifully restored Morris 1000 Traveller. Unfortunately, my old 1950 Morrie wasn’t quite so pristine. When I bought it, the body was in fair condition, with no visible signs of rust, but I didn’t look to see what might be lurking underneath. The 803cc side-valve engine was once capable of an eyewatering 27.5hp (21kw) with a top speed of 103kph, but if my car ever did that it was long before I knew it. Burning oil and low compression were more obvious attributes; it would struggle at the slightest incline. Shifting gears was a hit-and-miss affair akin to stirring lumpy porridge with a long stick. That didn’t matter, though; I thought it was wonderful.
My father was a real fan of Morris Minors, and decided I should upgrade to a later model. My ’53 Morrie was a big improvement. With updated engineering and Austin-designed 948cc, the overhead-valve A-series engine felt so superior to my old car — although the sloppy gear selector felt familiar. My girlfriend brought me large oval Parkercraft stickers from her work that proved ideal for placing over the rusty bits on my purple Morrie. It must have been a sight, but I thought it was the greatest thing since sliced bread.
Then, after I’d saved up a couple of hundred dollars, my father helped me find a 1960 Morris Minor 1000 for $450. I loved that car; the new overhead-valve 948cc engine was definitely a breath of fresh air, but what I liked most about it was the revised gearbox, which incorporated a remote selector allowing a shorter gear lever and less unwieldy gear-change action.
By this time, I was an apprentice and, as a young working lad, I managed to clock up a fair few miles in the light-green Morrie. Until one day — I think it was in about 1975 — when I was pulling into the driveway at work, my formerly trusty old Morrie decided to call it quits. The gearbox had seized. It wasn’t going anywhere under its own steam anymore. It was towed away, never to be seen again.
Going shopping for another car turned up an unusual choice for a serial Morrie owner: a 1968 Holden HK Monaro GTS — but that’s another story.
Today, I often see very nice Morris Minors at various car shows and I feel a familiar pang. It always makes me think I’d really like to own one again, for purely nostalgic reasons.