Home is where the heart is

NOSTALGIA, TO THE Ancient Greeks, literally meant ‘a longing to return home’ and, while classic car ownership generally involves some form of nostalgia, the term is more appropriate to the three cars you see here than to a lot of the exotic machinery you read about in Octane. Not many of us grew up in households that featured Ferrari Daytonas or Lamborghini Miuras, but a lot of Brits will once have had an Austin Seven Ruby, a Triumph TR7 (perhaps driven by the glamorous aunt) or a Vauxhall Astra Mk1 in the family.

Buying the car that reminds you of your childhood can be an expensive exercise these days – and possibly disappointing, once you’ve removed the rose-tinted spectacles – but now there’s a much more affordable alternative. New motoring museum The Great British Car Journey, based in Ambergate, Derbyshire, and the subject of our lead news story last month, has a fleet of 32 assorted classics that you can drive around the museum’s grounds. Prices start at £49 and there are discounts if you want to try more than one.

Two days before the museum opened in May, Octane was given free rein to sample the fleet. Given that my mum and dad both had new Mk1 Astras – dad’s a metallic bronze 1600 GL on alloys, mum’s a pale blue 1300 L – there was one obvious candidate I wanted to try.

But it was also pleasing to see a 1937 Austin Seven Ruby on offer as a representative of pre-war motoring. Bags of character, sharp handling and a willing engine make the Seven a lot of fun; you can see why it was so successful in bringing mobility to the masses, and, in its later years, giving

impoverished youngsters plenty of cheap thrills.

At over six feet, I’m not a natural fit for the Seven – my line of vision pretty much coincides with the windscreen header rail – but it’s a hoot to drive. The notorious on/off clutch action is the only thing likely to faze the novice Seven driver: there’s decent synchromesh for the gears, and the tiny sewing machine of an engine revs keenly. Which is just as well, because it needs keeping on the boil at the first sniff of a hill if you’re to maintain any semblance of momentum.

I chose the 1980 Triumph TR7 for a very specific reason – to confirm my long-held belief that these cars are much, much better than most pundits would have you believe. And you know what? I’m proved right. A ’7 that’s in good original condition, like this example, is a delight to drive.

It’s not really a sports car, although the slightly thrummy engine actually punts it along in a spirited fashion. It’s as a tourer that the Triumph excels. It’s well equipped (including a nonstandard but oh-so-period Harry Moss radio/cassette) and it has superbly comfortable seats. The ride is pleasantly supple and the gearchange slick. And the TR7’s instruments are a model of stylish clarity, a reminder of how BL’s designers were pretty damn good at this kind of thing.

In contrast, my third choice, the 1981 Astra 1300, is almost starkly basic and functional. Remember when cars had painted metal door tops? The colour co-ordinated centre console and dashboard moulding are the only hints of character here – until you drive it.

It may be a low-spec family hatchback but the Astra likes

Above and below

Family favourites: for a modest fee, you can try any of these, and more.

to think of itself as a Group N rally car – revvy, raspy engine, sweet gearchange and perfectly weighted steering. Which explains why, when I was 17 years old and my mum’s car was still almost new, I overturned it on a country lane and wrote it off. And now I can remember just why I did that.