Fantastic plastic
It is now more than seven decades since fiberglass made its first forays into the mainstream motoring world.
The lightness of fiberglass and the ease with which it could be bent to complex molded shapes were revelatory – many an enthusiast dreamed of building their own car, and the arrival of fiberglass brought that dream within reach.
So join us as we celebrate some classic fiberglass sports cars, each nominated by a member of the Classic & Sports Car team. Which is your favorite?
All prices and details are correct as of January 2020
1. Alpine A310 V6
• Chosen by Paul Hardiman, contributor
From its Droop Snoot-style nose to its Monteverdi Hai midriff, the wedge Alpine looks as out of place here as a starship looking for its lost troopers. As time goes by, its futuristic visage falls further out of step with the rest of the world – especially when planted in the middle of this eclectic, but conventionally styled, bunch.
Yet, for all its occasionally infuriating Frenchness – such as spacesaver spares in different sizes taking up room at each end of the car – this is a package that really works.
Replacing the A110, the 1971 A310’s wild wedge styling was originally fronted by a bank of six headlights, impossibly sophisticated in those UFO days.
Alpine A310 V6 (cont.)
Though it retained the A110’s four-pot power while being larger and heavier, the fiberglass body, molded in one piece by Alpine of Dieppe, was an unconventional success from almost all angles – good and straight, with no ripples, though viewing from the side exposes its Stratos-short wheelbase. Like its forebears and successors, it sits on a backbone chassis.
In ’76 the A310 was lightly restyled by Robert Opron, losing a pair of headlights and gaining larger wheelarch lips and bumpers, plus chin and tail spoilers… and the newly developed 90º V6 PRV engine for much-needed grunt. For 1981 it was updated into the S2, with four-stud wheels.
Even though Guy Fréquelin won the 1977 French rally championship in a Group 4 example the A310 was never a big seller: 781 cars were sold in its home market in its best year, 1979, and only 663 were produced in 1984, when the plug was finally pulled.
Some elements survived, though, such as the rear suspension transplanted into the barking R5 Turbo, and the whole plot was updated into the GTA as Alpine came fully under the ownership of Renault.
Alpine A310 V6 (cont.)
This sorted 1982 S2 has appeared in Classic & Sports Car before, where owner John Evans spotted it four years ago. It was nice then, but he’s since spent thousands sorting it, rebuilding the gearbox and brakes and fitting new Michelin TRXs, which have improved the already impressive ride.
A custom exhaust gives the V6 an off-kilter bark reminiscent of a Citroën SM, and a change to a Holley four-barrel carb from the weird two-plus-one Solex set-up has woken up the asthmatic lump – shared with the De Lorean, like the chassis layout – to the tune of an extra 10HP. There’s plenty of smooth torque, which means it can easily pull its tall gearing, though there’s little point in revving it beyond 5000; its modest power is offset by lightness.
There are obvious comparisons to be made with similar-era Porsches. The gearchange is less vague than a 915 ’box, but it’s easy to clip reverse when you’re downchanging to second. The real surprise is the composure of the chassis, especially when looking at the disparity in the size – and pressures – of the rubber. The rears are 220s at 2bar, and the fronts are skinny little 190s running just 1.5bar.
Alpine A310 V6 (cont.)
If that makes you expect a tail-heavy monster, think again: the Alpine does not constantly flex its shoulders behind you as a 911 does, and even an experimental lift in a sharp corner provokes only a tightening of line.
The steering isn’t quite as communicative, but it’s beautifully weighted and tells you what you need to know while being less exhausting. The brakes must have been ace because I can’t remember a thing about them.
Best of all, due to its low-volume production – made possible by composite body construction – almost nobody knows what it is.
2. Lotus Elite SE
• Chosen by Greg MacLeman, contributor
When it comes to fiberglass motor cars, none – bar perhaps the earliest pioneers – can lay claim to being as significant as the Lotus Type 14. Take the Elite’s looks into account and it sits in a league of its own.
What makes the little Lotus so special is not so much the material from which it was constructed, but the way in which it was used. Instead of employing fiberglass to augment a separate chassis with lightweight panels, the Elite became one of the first road cars to utilise a monocoque made entirely from the material.
For the first time, a fiberglass shell became a stressed, load-bearing component in a production car – technology that wouldn’t hit Formula One until 1962. Certain areas still required the use of steel, such as the minimalist front subframe – which helped spread the engine’s load through the body – the window surrounds and door hinges, but the heavy lifting was predominantly carried out by fiberglass, endowing the Elite with a scarcely believable weight of a whisker over 1400LB and a super-aerodynamic, organic shape.
Lotus Elite SE (cont.)
“There’s barely any wind noise because it’s so slippery,” says Paul Matty of the Peter Kirwan-Taylor, John Frayling and Frank Costin-styled body. “You have to use the quarterlight to get any airflow into the car, even at speed.”
Few people know their way around the Elite better than Matty, who has spent a lifetime maintaining and selling Lotus cars, and counts the model among founder Colin Chapman’s finest achievements.
This silver-over-green example comes from Matty’s personal collection: “My wife says we ought to sell it because we’ve had it for so long, but I don’t want to. It’s a fantastic car. The shape is like a work of art, really. We once restored a red car for a chap in London who put it in his lounge behind a glass panel with spotlights!”
Lotus Elite SE (cont.)
Tempting as it would be to keep the Elite purely as an objet d’art, it’s not something I could do – partly so as not to deny others the chance to fall for its delicate shape, but also because it’s an absolute marvel on the road.
Matty’s car left Hethel in 1962 as an SE (Special Equipment) model, with a number of improvements over the car that wowed showgoers at Earls Court in 1957, chief among them the transition from an MGA-derived gearbox to a silky four-speed ZF – as denoted by the exquisite branded gearknob – plus the addition of twin SU carbs and a fabricated exhaust manifold.
The transmission doesn’t disappoint, swapping cogs with all the precision of a Swiss watch.
Lotus Elite SE (cont.)
The Coventry Climax engine is also a jewel, producing just 84HP but delivering it so sweetly – with the exception of a resonance that reverberates around the shell at around 4000rpm. “It’s not a car that tears off the line, it’s all about delicacy and light weight – everything that Chapman believed in,” enthuses Matty.
And as a car to own? “You have to put effort in,” he explains, “but they’re much better today than they were originally: they were notoriously unreliable in period. There were problems with overheating and gearbox faults. Rear wheel bearings were also an issue, but you can get sealed-for-life units now.
“Most of the problems have been ironed out, though not completely. It wouldn’t be an Elite if everything was perfect!”
3. Chevrolet Corvette C3
• Chosen by Julian Balme, senior contributor
I’ll be honest right away: I personally would only ever really be happy with a 1963-’67 Sting Ray. These days, though, they command silly prices and for the same money there are much better cars, whereas the chromeless later C3s are arguably the best-value fiberglass would-be sports cars you can buy.
The American car industry isn’t renowned for fiberglass, yet by the time this 350 auto rolled off the St Louis production line Chevrolet had garnered 25 years’ manufacturing experience with the material.
Nor was it only producing a handful of cars: in the ’Vette’s silver-anniversary year Chevy turned out more than 46,000 of them – probably more than the total production of all the other models assembled here.
Chevrolet Corvette C3 (cont.)
Although hardly spoilt for choice where domestic sports cars were concerned, the US buyer was more demanding than his or her European counterpart and owner-driven product development was never going to be tolerated.
Consequently they were built to withstand a rhino charge – which, with all the added weight, crippled performance. On the plus side, it usually meant surviving a collision with a not-so-flexible object.
Just shutting the door on the Corvette is an education: the reassuring ‘clunk’ sounds more like a high-end ’60s British sedan, and among its company here the US icon wins hands-down on build quality.
Okay, so the engineering wasn’t exactly cutting-edge on the Chevy, but who needed a nimble chassis mated to a multi-valve gem of an engine when you had to be in New York by daybreak? Or, as many were, had to be driven to the curb outside a disco by gents going through their first mid-life crisis.
Chevrolet Corvette C3 (cont.)
The frame was basic to say the least, with rails down either side connected by a crossmember fore and aft, and two further members shoring it up amidships.
Much like the previous generation of Corvette, it featured double wishbones with coilovers up front, a transverse leaf to the rear, with its body placed on top rather than blended in. Apart from the big disc brakes all round, from underneath it resembled an over-engined Bond Equipe.
Nevertheless, the handling of what became known as the C3 was hardly terrible – you certainly didn’t need to be as brave as the NASA astronauts who were so fond of them to get behind the wheel. Due to its weight and, by that time, smog equipment it’s no monster, despite being powered by one of the greatest engines of all time. An engine that Chevrolet built for 47 years, and was so robust that even I could rebuild one and it would still run.
Chevrolet Corvette C3 (cont.)
Owner Otley has been canny in removing the items that strangled performance during his restoration of the car and, although it’s not known whether it left the factory as an L82, it easily matches that designation’s performance.
Under duress, owners will confess that the T-top roof isn’t as watertight as maybe it could be, and the length of the hood does make it vulnerable to short-sighted 4x4 drivers in metropolitan parking situations.
Those issues aside, however, as a bulletproof everyday classic you could do a lot worse. If we had all been asked to drive our chosen plastic cars to Le Mans, just imagine how warm and smug I would have felt.
4. Ferrari 308GTB
• Chosen by Alastair Clements, editor in chief
Think of Ferrari manufacture and the image that springs to mind is one of Italian artisans with hammers, painstakingly teasing out exquisite panel shapes in aluminum over wooden bucks – not brushes of sticky resin being daubed on to prickly glass matting in molds.
And that’s a big part of why I find the Vetroresina 308 so intriguing.
Once derided as the ‘plastic Ferrari’, today these early fiberglass-bodied 308s are the most desirable of all.
Which is not entirely surprising when you consider that fewer than a thousand of them were produced by the Scaglietti works between the car’s Paris auto show launch in 1975 and the switch to steel bodies in June 1977.
Ferrari 308GTB (cont.)
If you’re expecting some sort of racy 308 lightweight you’re out of luck, though they are thought to be a bit lighter (by around 250lb) than their all-metal counterparts.
What you do get is the purest interpretation of the gorgeous Pininfarina shape, which paid homage to the classical curves of its V6 Dino inspiration after the controversial Bertone-styled GT4.
This 1976 car, for sale with Slade’s Garage at the time of writing, has a touch of aggression courtesy of period optional 16in wheels and quad ANSA exhausts in place of the factory pea-shooters. It’s an intriguing car, being an Australian-supplied right-hand-drive car with a wet-sump version of the 2926cc quad-cam V8 rather than the dry sump of European cars, along with twin distributors.
From the outside you can easily spot a fiberglass car for its flat rear panel – steel cars got a recess for the numberplate – and reversing lights in the bumper rather than in the center of the indicators. Lift the engine cover and you’ll spot the distinctive weave of the matting and screws securing the panels to the tubular steel chassis.
Ferrari 308GTB (cont.)
Bought and imported by QV London five years ago, the 308 has since undergone a superb restoration with the Windsor-based specialist.
“As with all fiberglass cars, getting the finish right was the biggest challenge,” says QV’s Mike Lester, “but it’s thick and good quality – you don’t get any trouble with cracking or crazing. Finding some trim parts for the early cars can be a problem: so many bits were missing that we ended up buying another for spares that I’ve since turned into my rally car.”
The door shuts with the familiar flat thud of fiberglass, but inside the GTB feels every inch the Dino successor, and a world away from Ferrari’s digital revolution. In the compact instrument binnacle there’s a 280kph speedo and the yellow line for the 10,000rpm rev counter starts at 7000, with the redline 1000rpm later.
Ferrari 308GTB (cont.)
Today we’re heavily restricted by the need to protect a fresh engine, but fortunately the V8 is far more flexible than a Dino’s V6, if not quite as tuneful. Lumpy at low revs, with a delicious gurgling from the intake by your right ear for the quad Webers, it soon smooths out as the revs rise and past experience tells me that the scream of four cams and eight cylinders in perfect harmony is fabulous past 5000rpm.
The positive gearbox feels less notchy than most and the initially dead rack-and-pinion steering comes to life with speed, loading up swiftly in bends and communicating the nuances of the road surface. Add in supple double-wishbone suspension and delicious balance, and the GTB makes light work of our short track.
For so long a Maranello bargain, the 308 is finally being recognized as the true heir to the Dino – a Ferrari as significant in the firm’s transition from niche manufacturer to modern megabrand as it is wonderful to look at.
5. Rochdale GT
• Chosen by Martin Port, contributor
Formed in 1948 in the town of the same name (in Greater Manchester, England), Rochdale was the brainchild of Frank Butterworth and Harry Smith.
Although the company became synonymous with fiberglass-bodied vehicles, its origins lay in the supply of aluminum – it would be a full six years before the first fiberglass option, the MkIV shell, which was created to sit atop an Austin Seven chassis.
The introduction of the Rochdale GT in 1957, however, led to the company achieving its best-selling vehicle yet.
The open-topped ST concept was launched two years earlier and criticized for its lack of stiffness – something the GT swiftly addressed with the addition of a roof.
Rochdale GT (cont.)
Initially intended to utilise the underpinnings of a Ford Popular, like so many other post-war alternatives, it was eventually offered with Rochdale’s own chassis – as found under this example built in 1959-’60.
In fact, Peter Campbell’s GT makes use of a tubular chassis that, unlike the Ford Pop option, is bonded to the shell itself, further increasing the stiffness so lacking in the ST.
Campbell found his GT on eBay after a previous purchase proved uneconomical to repair. “The shape just said ‘buy me’,” he explains. “Although it still needed work, it was by no means as bad as the first one and had the better chassis, too.”
As well as the round-tube framework, Campbell’s GT boasts its original 1172cc Ford E93A sidevalve engine, although attempts to tune the 36HP unit were only met with a degree of success: “We balanced the flywheel, gas-flowed the Aquaplane head, fitted a different camshaft and larger pistons and valves… but still only recorded 45HP!”
Rochdale GT (cont.)
That said, in percentage terms it’s a useful improvement and on the road the Rochdale delivers impressive torque through the Ford three-speed close-ratio gearbox.
The saving grace here, of course, is the fiberglass body and the resulting overall weight: the GT feels far from slow, and even accounting for a spot of double-declutching between gearchanges you rarely find yourself yearning for more power. That’s good news for the cable-operated drums, which provide just enough stopping power.
Fitted with Ballamy lightweight five-stud wheels shod with 5.50-15 Excelsior crossply tires, the Rochdale’s steering is beautifully weighted and, like any good sports car, inspires you to turn in to corners faster and later as familiarity grows.
Rochdale GT (cont.)
Perhaps the only criticism from a driver’s point of view is the ridiculously tight pedal arrangement: a sock-clad left foot proves a necessity in order to avoid pressing both brake and clutch at once, but the beauty of these early post-war homebuilds is that they were almost always assembled to individual styles and requirements, so further fettling or subtle modification shouldn’t be frowned upon.
Campbell’s aspirations were simple. “I set out to end up with something that pleases me,” he smiles. “I am a child of the 1950s and this offers a sense of history as well as a pleasing quirkiness – I like the fact that it’s different.”
Although slightly challenging to get into thanks to the drop-sided roofline, the GT doesn’t feel cramped once you’re in the period bucket seats. You could probably fit kids in the back – there are dished bases on either side of the transmission tunnel – but leave them behind and there’s a reasonable amount of luggage space, boosted further by the spare-wheel cubby under the sloping tail and accessed from the interior.
Mention Rochdale and the long-serving Olympic will spring to mind for most, but the GT is in many ways a more interesting choice. Park it beside an Elite and the financial saving looks tempting for a car that offers a rewarding driving experience but with added novelty appeal.
6. Ginetta G15
• Chosen by Lizzie Pope, associate editor
I must start by taking issue with the proclamation that: ‘No woman in her right mind would put up with such a car.’ So said Motor Sport in its 1969 road test of the Ginetta G15 that, quite rightly, described it as ‘a car for the enthusiast’.
Maybe – okay, definitely – I’m biased. When asked to choose a fiberglass sports car, it was always going to be a Ginetta, having grown up just a few miles from the marque’s headquarters in the English county of Essex – and the offer of Miles Hewitt’s brilliantly hued G15, the firm’s first volume seller, was too good to resist.
I say ‘volume’, but it’s thought that at most about 800 were made, of which around 100 remain on the road.
Ginetta G15 (cont.)
And that means 100 very lucky owners because, as single-minded pursuits of motoring pleasure go, the G15 is surely up there with the best.
There are few concessions to comfort or practicality, but who needs a trunk, anyway? Stuff what little you need in a soft bag and stow it behind the seats. That said, on our chilly shoot I’m grateful for the optional heater fitted to chassis 0154, an early MkIII that was sold on 15 January 1971 as a kit.
You fold and lower yourself down into the compact, driver-focused cabin – if you’re planning a long drive, it helps to be on good terms with your passenger.
And thankfully the driver’s door opens wide, so, once you’ve had your fun, egress will not be particularly ladylike but at least it isn’t human origami.
Ginetta G15 (cont.)
It seems appropriate now to get my – and the owner’s – only gripe out the way: the seats.
Standard items, they move fore and aft but there’s no adjustment in the backrest, hindering access to that storage space in the rear and putting the driver into a position more reclined than I can handle. Not that this detracts from your enjoyment.
From the moment you turn the dash-mounted ignition key, you know you’re going to have fun. There might be a unit with a mere 875cc behind you, but with just 1100LB (plus driver) to move, it’s never found wanting.
The tightly spaced pedals sit slightly to the left and slender feet are an advantage, but it’s not uncomfortable, with the delightfully small steering wheel perfectly placed.
Ginetta G15 (cont.)
The initial revelation is perhaps not the first thing you look for in a sports car: the G15 has a fantastically tight turning circle. That’s possibly its only nod to practicality, but handy in the real world nevertheless.
Once on the move, its Imp underpinnings serve the Ginetta well and it oozes chuckability, with an engine that simply loves to be revved, the rasping soundtrack encouraging you to go ever faster, to dig deeper into its talents. Light, direct and responsive, the steering is a joy.
The suspension is rather on the uncompromising side, so you’ll certainly know about potholes, but what do you expect from a proper sports car, with your backside mere inches from the ground? The brakes require a firm jab but never cause alarm, and the little G15 grips tenaciously, egging me on to corner far more quickly than I have the nerve to, especially on our first encounter.
It’s a proper no-frills, high-fun sports car that, despite – or perhaps because of – its simplicity, charms all who sample it. This Tangerine treat with its fetching Cosmic alloys has just enough of everything you need, and I’d challenge any of the others here to deliver more smiles.
7. Jensen 541R
• Chosen by Martin Buckley, senior contributor
These big Austin-engined Jensens have always appealed to me. They have an allure that sits somewhere between the high-geared luxury of a Bentley R-type Continental and the suave, sporty aura of a contemporary Aston Martin, but with less finicky mechanicals.
Handbuilt in small numbers, the 541s were far cheaper than either; Jensen kept costs down by using a variety of Austin suspension components on a simple but effective fabricated chassis of welded tubular and rectangular sections.
As well as being ideal for low-volume construction methods, this established the principles around which the subsequent V8 Jensens were constructed.
Jensen 541R (cont.)
The well-balanced, futuristically elegant shape showed that the Italians had by no means cornered the market in Grand Touring chic.
And if owners of Astons or 2-liter Bristols sneered at the 4-liter straight-six from the Sheerline limousine – which was heavy, low-revving and not especially attractive to look at – in this 3200LB close-coupled, leather-swaddled four-seater, it gave effortless urge well past 100mph, which in the end was all that mattered.
The 541 was, in fact, one of the fastest British production cars of the 1950s, its fiberglass body (apart from the aluminum doors and trunk) being slippery – with a drag coefficient of 0.36Cd – as well as corrosion-resistant.
Jensen 541R (cont.)
Launched in 1953, it was probably the first performance-orientated European car to have a fiberglass body and the Jensen name would soon become synonymous with ahead-of-the-curve safety developments as well: the 1957 541 De Luxe was the first British production car with four-wheel disc brakes, the wide-bodied 1960 541S the first with seatbelts as standard.
The 1958-’60 541R, such as this example owned by Shane Griffin, is possibly the pick of the 541s in that it has the 150bhp Princess DS7 engine (at least at first), much more precise rack-and-pinion steering and a stiffer chassis than the 541 and 541 De Luxe, yet retained the original iteration of Eric Neale’s pretty body.
The Autocar extracted 127mph from its test example, fitted with the Jaguar-type Moss gearbox and overdrive, making the 541R the fastest British four-seater then on offer.
Jensen 541R (cont.)
All 541s are also much rarer than you might imagine – total production, of all types, was not much more than 500 cars. In modern parlance it was essentially a ‘halo’ product for a company that made its real money building bodies for other people.
In the past they have tended to be overshadowed by the V8 Jensens of the 1960s and ’70s, although 541 prices are now well up with early Interceptors.
The Jensen is cosy and wonderfully aromatic inside, with semi-bucket front seats and a man-sized steering wheel to ease low-speed manoeuvring. There is solid grunt in all the gears, in a ’box that requires slow, positive handling as it romps up to speed in a long, smooth surge that is more urgent than the ponderous hisses under the hood suggest. It feels secure and steady in fast curves, and less unhappy than you expect in tighter bends.
Griffin confirms that his 1959 R is very usable, and often deployed on shopping trips. “You just need to keep on top of the oil and water levels,” he says, “and for anything more involved my local garage is quite happy to look after it.”
The retired lawyer, who also has a Triumph TR4A, has owned the 541R for seven years, having bought it on a whim simply because he liked the look of it – which is as good a reason as any.
8. Marcos 1600GT
• Chosen by James Mann, photographer
Marcos, the brand that combines the names of founder Jem Marsh and engineer Frank Costin, was born into the richly innovative engineering environment of the late 1950s and inspired by Marsh’s love of club motorsport.
Using a chassis made from resin-bonded plywood, glued together with Aerolite as pioneered by De Havilland airplanes, Marcos scored some early successes with its GTs in the hands of such legends as Derek Bell and Jackies Stewart and Oliver.
With the arrival of Formula Junior, most of the hotshoe drivers began to move away from GT racing so the company started to build a roadgoing sports car designed by brothers Dennis and Peter Adams. At just 43in high, with a long hood and a Kamm tail, it was a hit at the 1964 London Racing Car Show, hinting at the lines of the Ferrari 250GT ‘Breadvan’ at a fraction of the price.
Marcos 1600GT (cont.)
Initially launched with an 1800cc Volvo engine and a de Dion back end, the Marcos GT evolved with various engines including the Ford 1600 crossflow fitted to ‘our’ 1966 model, complete with a single downdraft Weber.
“I tried it with twin Webers but there isn’t really enough space to fit the proper air cleaners and I couldn’t get it to run well, so switched back to the single carburetor,” says serial Marcos owner Richard Falconer, who bought the car in pieces about 15 years ago.
“I was building a 1500cc car and needed an interior, then I got a call from Rory MacMath at Marcos Heritage to tell me of a good one stored in a barn. It came with a complete body in three pieces, so I decided to rebuild it. Halfway through the restoration I realized it was the very car that my first girlfriend and I had been given a lift in 50 years ago, so I sold the finished 1500 without even driving it and kept this one.”
Marcos 1600GT (cont.)
The cockpit is snug, with the wide center console topped by a short-throw gearlever and the prone driving position leaving you peering out of the curved ’screen down a long, swooping hood.
Unusually, the driver’s seat is fixed to the floor and the pedals can be adjusted forwards and backwards to suit the individual using a dial on the dash behind the steering wheel.
Straight out of the blocks the 1600GT feels like a roadgoing racing car to drive, enhanced by how low down you sit with the road rushing past right next to you.
There’s only 85HP on tap, yet acceleration is vivid because it weighs in at less than 750kg, and there’s none of the vibration or rattling that some fiberglass-bodied cars of the era can suffer from.
Marcos 1600GT (cont.)
The rigidity of the plywood chassis really comes into play through the corners, which it takes almost completely flat, and even when pushed the responsive and predictable handling is a delight despite the relatively conventional live-axle rear set-up. The Triumph Herald rack is controlled by a small steering wheel that reacts instantly to your inputs, while the disc front, drum rear braking is well up to the task.
Owner Falconer is more than 6ft tall yet he fits comfortably into the cockpit, and he has owned multiple Marcos models since acquiring his first after qualifying as an architect in 1973.
“I bought a 3-liter initially, then an 1800, but had to sell it when I got married,” he says, with a parting top tip for refined Marcos motoring: “The Webasto roof makes a tremendous difference for draft-free ventilation on longer journeys, because opening a window tends to be a bit noisy.”
9. TVR Griffith 500
• Chosen by Jack Phillips, contributor
Having been told a definitive “no” and given a warning about my future conduct after suggesting a Talbot-Matra Rancho for a plastic sports car shoot, thoughts quickly turned to Noble and TVR. And since we couldn’t have a fiberglass special without inviting Trevor, my choice was all but made for me.
If we’re having a TVR, we should probably have the best. Which is why Martin Buckley collected a Griffith 500 – in lilac, naturally – from his neighbor, Cotswold Classic Car Restorations, and roared up to our photoshoot. And what a sound it produces, the venerable Rover V8 rumbling perhaps at its best here beneath the roll-down-and-lift-up hood, making its entrance loudly as Buckley can’t resist arriving via a lap of the sprint course.
At 5 liters, the V8 is at its biggest, too, three decades since the initial 3.5-liter Buick-derived unit first caught Rover’s eye. The Blackpool marque claimed an output of 340HP at launch, and 350LB FT of torque, but it was exactly that: a claim. South of 300HP, north of 250HP is roughly where you can expect it, apparently.
TVR Griffith 500 (cont.)
What’s indisputable, however, is the punch in the back when pressing down on the thin throttle pedal. It requires an assertive but respectful foot, and an attentive mind because the nose lifts and the car lightens the harder you accelerate.
It does exactly what you ask of it, though: the brakes are sharp, the easy five-speed gearbox is crisp and on turn-in the 500 simply grips, with super-light steering courtesy of the aftermarket electric power assistance fitted to this car (it was unassisted from the factory).
Exit a corner, keeping the back end in check and the car pointing in a straight line, and your attention is instantly taken by that noise once more. It really is that good. At low speed the car is not so good, mind, but trundling isn’t the point of a TVR.
TVR Griffith 500 (cont.)
Oddly for such an absorbing machine, it feels as if it would be well suited to long-distance touring. Torquey enough to pull from nothing and slip past all comers, it’s also surprisingly plush and easy to get comfortable in, with a big boot. And any driver would relish long stretches of doing little but taking in that sound.
That said, the cabin is a mental challenge when you need to actually do something – turn on the lights, say. Myriad buttons, dials and knobs – a riddle of them, more like – line the machined aluminium dash, each looking identical and with no cause for explanation.
When you know, you know, I suppose. It’s also worth investigating in advance where the door release is (it’s on the transmission tunnel). The stalks behind the racy Personal steering wheel, which is pinched ever so slightly halfway down each side, are no less confusing, and the inverted dials counter-push their needles clockwise from the top.
TVR Griffith 500 (cont.)
The overriding feeling, not least when those buttons creak and crack into their slots, is one of the 500 being handmade, yet the leather finish is rich, the dark brown soft-touch dash top contrasting with the tan seats.
Just as important as its brilliance is the reformative role the Griffith played for TVR.
This was the car that smoothed the company into the future, away from the M-Series and the wedges and a big design step forward from the S – the Griff even took the Tuscan racer’s chassis. It still looks modern, with a bullet-shaped body that has aged far better than many of its contemporaries.
Had this design appeared in the 2000s, I’m not sure many would raise an eyebrow. But that’s exactly what this car does.
10. Martin-Ford
• Chosen by Simon Taylor, editor at large
Not a lot of people know this, but the first fiberglass-bodied cars on our roads were homebuilt Ford Ten Specials. During the 1950s, many an impecunious enthusiast dreamed of building their own sports car – a ‘Special’ – and the arrival of fiberglass bodyshells brought the dream within reach.
The RGS shell was first advertised in early 1953, beating Chevrolet’s original Corvette by some months, and within a few years a score of firms had sprung up to make shells for the growing specials market.
Most used as their basis pre-war Austin Sevens and Ford Eights and Tens, which could easily be found in scrapyards. Some of the completed cars looked quite good if the car was assembled by a reasonably able engineer, but some looked decidedly odd, especially when the builder’s enthusiasm was not matched by their mechanical talents.
Martin-Ford (cont.)
John Plant’s Martin is a classic Ford Special. The body, made by Martin Plastics of Maidstone, dates from 1957, but it seems the car was not finished until 1962.
The chassis is the humble Ford Ten ladder frame, with strips welded along the channel-section side members to restore some of the stiffness lost by removing the sedan body. The transverse-leaf front suspension has been converted to independent by splitting the axle, while 15in wheels improve the handling over the standard Ford 17-inchers.
The engine is a post-war 100E version of the trusty 1172cc sidevalve unit, with a shaved head to raise the compression ratio, twin SU carburetors replacing the wheezy Zenith, and a smart four-branch tubular exhaust manifold.
Martin-Ford (cont.)
The more expensive fiberglass bodies came with subframes bonded in: they were stiffer and easier to mount on the Ford chassis. The Martin shell, which cost just £100, has no subframe and is simply bolted to the chassis.
The quirky styling, with central ridge ending in a peak over the grille and another ridge over the tail, is intended to impart a bit of stiffness.
There are lofty estimates of how many Martin bodies were originally produced, but only five exist today – and Plant has two of them. He bought this car five years ago as a near-wreck but it’s now very nicely turned out, with smart green paint and neat interior trim.
Because the body sits on the high Ford chassis the driver seems to sit on rather than in the car, with only a pair of aeroscreens for protection. There is no weather equipment. The dashboard uses the original Ford instruments plus a modern combined oil/water gauge, and the seats are from a Triumph TR2. The neat little steering wheel comes from a Fordson tractor.
Martin-Ford (cont.)
The real surprise is how brisk it feels. Without the heavy steel sedan body it is very light, and helped by aftermarket close-ratio gears it steps off smartly, although it runs out of puff quite soon.
The Ford Ten rod-operated brakes are well up to the task, and handling around our test track’s sharp corners is quite friendly, although too much enthusiasm produces abrupt roll oversteer.
You have to put this little sports car into its context. In the mid-1950s most affordable cars were dull and slow, and around £250 and a lot of hard work could produce something that both looked sporty and was fun to drive.
Sixty-plus years later these eccentric cars are fascinating period pieces, and it’s great that enthusiasts such as Plant preserve them.
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