Simon Taylor Full throttle
‘To see either of these cars outside a rural garage would have been exciting: to see both would have been a real shock’
Every picture tells a story, they say, and whether at a giant NEC exhibition or a club autojumble, I can never walk past a tempting box of photos without stopping for a quick riffle. Many of the photo dealers are hugely knowledgeable and, like the ubiquitous Ted ‘Ferret’ Walker, have become good friends down the years. He’ll even remember your particular interest, and if he finds something he thinks you’ll like he’ll put it aside for you.
Many of the racing photos will be of familiar drivers and familiar venues, but busy paddock shots can be a special joy, full of period detail. Sometimes a picture will provide the researcher with a new piece of information: “Fancy! I never knew Ian Stewart drove a borrowed HWM for three laps at the October 1952 Charterhall meeting.” Others may be charming motoring scenes – a village street mixing an Austin Chummy with a horse and cart, or a lady in appropriate tweeds admiring the view after her 1924 twin-cylinder Rover Eight has struggled to the top of Hardknott Pass in the Lake District.
At a recent show I found a heap of fascinating shots of roadside garages, with weirdly designed pumps and tatty secondhand stock indicating the period. I wanted to buy the lot, but in the end I took just one, because it really did tell a story.
The lettering on the garage door points to this being in the village of Lighthorne Heath near Leamington Spa, now bypassed by the M40, although there is still a used-car lot there to this day. The pumps dispense Shell, Shell-mex and National Benzole, and other signs advertise Redex and Mobiloil. Many petrol stations were still ‘free houses’ then, selling several brands. But it’s the cars at the pumps that catch the eye.
The Aston Martin DB2 is registered VMF 65, which means it’s part of the works team that won the 3-litre class and the Index of Performance at Le Mans in 1950. The Dyna Panhard saloon would have been a true rarity: it was not available in Britain, and is wearing ‘Q’ plates to indicate that it was in the country on a temporary import basis. To see either one of these cars outside a rural garage in those days would have been very exciting: to see both would have been a real shock, and it’s no surprise that the garage staff seem to be standing at a respectful distance looking at the Panhard’s faintly futuristic lines, with its gun-barrel in the middle of the air intake.
So how did this scene happen? A dig into my faithful run of The Autocar produced the answer. In September 1950, the magazine arranged to borrow a Panhard from the Paris factory and bring it to England to explore its air-cooled flattwin, front-wheel drive, light weight and 70mph top speed. Alec Issigonis’ Mini was still a decade away, so the testers’ yardsticks were Ford Anglias and Austin Devons. They spoke excitedly of: ‘Phenomenal cornering behaviour. So glued to the road are the wheels, so accurate is the control, that it can put up astonishing average speeds, still feeling safe.’
The same month, The Autocar also tested one of the Aston Martin DB2 works team cars. Its £1915 price would have bought six Ford Anglias. The testers covered 1900 miles in 10 days and, although its 110mph top speed and 0-60mph in 12.4 secs had already been put in the shade by the Jaguar XK120 (at two-thirds the price), not surprisingly the testers concluded that the DB2 was: ‘In the first rank for handling and sheer brilliance of performance. This super car [was that the first use of this term?] can put in almost unprecedented miles into the hour, the exact figure depending entirely on traffic and weather conditions.’
So this picture shows The Autocar road test team pausing to refuel before going off to evaluate two very different cars. It will have been taken in September 1950 – which provides a further insight into the Morris Minor on the left of the picture. It’s the ‘high headlight’ model, which was only introduced that month and must also have been a press demonstrator. Isn’t auto-archaeology fun!