Martin Buckley Backfire
Driving the ’70s BMWS for this month’s cover story (p82), I was reminded how good 50-year-old motor cars can be in absolutely standard form if every element is as it should be. Too often the capabilities of older vehicles are judged on the basis of tired examples, by people who have never driven a good one. And have you noticed how people who ‘improve’ old cars tend to pick on those that least require help and, increasingly, were a bit thin on the ground the first time around, never mind now? Cars so rare and precious that performing irreversible surgery on a survivor seems like a sort of vandalism. The reasons for this are not difficult to fathom, of course. Very rich people want to drive high-status, ego-boosting classics and have the funds to make restorers’ qualms about ‘restomodding’ go away very quickly.
For me, having the last word in function and efficiency thrust upon these old cars is not in the spirit of why, in the end, we want to own and use them. Worse is that sort of faux down-with-thekids chop-shop sensibility that seems to have gravitated from the world of old Beetles into the realm of Italian exotica. Any day now, I’m almost expecting to hear about someone who will build you an Aurelia B20 lowrider called Bandit that dances on its gas struts to gangster rap.
Having said that, I’m all for making old cars stop better, go better (up to a point) and I certainly don’t have a problem with anything that makes a classic more reliable. As long as the changes are invisible and don’t fundamentally alter the essential character of the car, then why not?
If you are going to modify an old car, at least pick something that looks good and has a high survival rate but, frankly, could use the help. The Scimitar is a prime candidate: its star has fallen somewhat, yet it is fondly recalled as a trendy, groundbreaking car from a time when British products were still cutting-edge and stylish.
Cheap, simple and practical, the GTE’S only real problem is that ‘chemical toilet’ image born of poor detail refinement. This is the area that a modern approach can address, without making the error of thinking it knows better than a car’s originators when it comes to the visuals, which is where too many upgraded classics go awry.
I like to think of my ‘dream’ GTE as a Scimitar that has been through Harold Radford: leather, Wilton, West of England headliner – but also central locking, air-con and electric windows, all
‘I’m expecting to hear any day now about someone who’ll build you an Aurelia lowrider that dances on gas struts to gangster rap’
done with attention to period detail that is easy to get right, but seldom is. Externally, I’d go for silver or grey for a solid, ‘non plastic’ feel. The only indulgence I might allow myself is decking the load bay in wood to give a Riva speedboat effect, with rubber strips to stop to the luggage – which could be bespoke – floating around.
The unappealing dash would need thought: better detailed, without going down the stick-on walnut route. I’m thinking chrome dials and every switch with a little etched descriptor plate, as on a light aircraft. Lose the drab door cards and Marina doorhandles, but keep the steering wheel – it’s the best thing about the interior.
Mechanically, as long as you keep it Ford (and V6) it would not upset my sensibilities to fit a modern lump with an appropriate ’box. Power steering and ABS are a must, and you can do all sorts of things with suspension – the trick being not to sacrifice the ride on the altar of pin-sharp handling, or be tempted to fit huge wheels with rubber-band tyres; I’d have thought Dunlop ‘Princess Anne’ alloys are the obvious choice.
Could there be a market for a beautifully built, mildly reimagined Scimitar that looks ’70s but smells of leather not plastic? Who knows what it would cost, or what it could sell for. My guess is something like a good Lynx Eventer, £50-60k.
If somebody out there wants to make such a thing, in a typically selfless act I’d be happy to do them the honour of having it on long-term test.