The atmosphere is buoyant, almost giddy, as we wander among the 32 colorful British cars gathered in the cul-de-sac in front of Dave and Charlene Hutchison’s house in Quakertown, Pennsylvania. And why shouldn’t we be happy on this bright October morning? After all, nothing has gone wrong yet.
Ahead of us lies a three-day drive in these same British cars, a 600-mile endurance test to raise money for a children’s hospital while making a point about the reliability of the cars of Old Blighty. If we’d wanted to cover the 600-plus miles without a worry, any modern Japanese sedan would have done. But there’s no adventure in that, and we love adventure. Why else would we all have signed up for something called the America’s British Reliability Run?
Drivers of vintage cars know the million and one things that can go awry on the open road, and none better than drivers of vintage British cars. We’ve bonded over “Lucas, Prince of Darkness” jokes about our car’s electrical systems, and shared a chuckle or two over our “All of the parts falling off this car are of the finest British craftsmanship” bumper stickers, even as we remain under the spell of our machines’ bulldog charm.
Yet, if there’s a question about reliability, it lies not so much in the fact that the cars are British, but that by being British, they’re old. With the exception of Jaguar and the new Mini, it’s been decades since a mass-produced British car was sold in America. The average age of the cars in the run is 42.7 years; take out the two cars built in the current millennium, and the average is a solid 45 years.
My friend Dirk Burrowes and I have helped inflate that number by entering the oldest car in the run: a 1950 Rover P4 75. It’s in beautiful condition, yes, with its show-quality paintwork and cozy interior stuffed with supple leather, deep wool carpets and glowing walnut. And, at the same time, it’s impossible to forget that it was built just five years after Berlin fell to the Allies. It’s older than I am, for Pete’s sake.
It was I who had sweet-talked Dirk into entering his Rover–I, who took part in the 2007 ABRR with my 1978 Triumph Spitfire, and had no problems other than the failure of a rear wheel bearing, which caused me to miss most of the run and shell out $500 for a flatbed trip across most of Ohio. (You can read the whole sordid account in the January 2008 issue of HS&EC.) Dirk, in addition to being among this nation’s handful of Rover aficionados, is also an enthusiast, and it was he who suggested that we have the oldest car in the run. In fact, he was contemplating something with running boards before lighting on the 75 as a more likely bet.
MOTORCAR STUDIOS – 1968 Jaguar E-Type // Nick Zabrecky, Andrew Paolucci
Here, in the autumn sunshine, we take some comfort in the fact that our car has been, as my friend David Clark might say, “pre-disastered,” its steering box having failed during a shakedown trip the previous weekend. Still, who knows what might happen?
After a sumptuous breakfast at the Hutchisons’, the distribution of ABRR hats–courtesy of Motorcar Garage’s Pete Cosmides–and a brief drivers meeting, we’re off. Because we’re such a big group, we’ve been broken into “flights,” to give us a better chance at sticking together. Our flight is the second to leave, and includes Team Trevor, a TVR Tasmin; Ticking Tappets, a Morris Minor; Yellow Jacket Werke, a Triumph TR7; and Team E-types 4ever, an Austin-Healey 3000. We’re led by Team X, a Jaguar X-type driven by someone who posed for his team photo as The Stig–so we can see how this is going to go. Though the run is neither a race nor a time-speed-distance rally, the pace is not leisurely.
Have I mentioned that the Rover has four-wheel drum brakes? Or that its brakes reflect prewar thinking, being mechanical in the rear, and hydraulic in the front? The 2,106-cc, low-compression straight-six makes just 75 hp, its exhaust-over-inlet design being great for smoothness, but not the sort of thing you’d choose for lapping la Sarthe. Dirk is driving on this first leg, and, despite his unflappable manner, it’s clear that the 75 is being tested as it never has during his ownership.
Give Dirk and the Rover their due–both prove easily capable of keeping up the pace. But being unable to either ride the brakes or reach 60 MPH in less than 20 seconds dictates a driving style from an earlier age, especially in these Pennsylvania hills. At the first long downgrade that ends in a stop sign, the pronounced fade and the acrid smell of overcooked linings give us a new appreciation for the breakthrough that disc brakes must have represented. (Our 75 was from the first year of production; the very next year, the brakes would be all-hydraulic, and the drums would be much wider.) We’ve been put on notice.
The scenery is just outstanding, the sort of thing that might make the highlight reel of a Pennsylvania Department of Tourism promotional video. Late autumn color floods the hillsides, and the curves and dips in the secondary highways we’re following make for an endlessly entertaining view. We agree that Team 3umph, alias Dan and Sherry Tinsman–members of Delaware Valley Triumphs, the club that has sponsored the run–did all right when they laid out this route for us.
The route book is dotted with little yellow gas pumps to show us the location of Sunoco stations, Sunoco having generously donated $50 gas cards to each of the teams, and we’re not long into the run before we make our first stop. A customer, leaving the convenience store as I head in, asks what the deal is with all the funny little cars, and I explain. “A children’s hospital, huh?” he asks, and reaches into his pocket. “This is for them,” he says, pressing a $10 bill into my hand.
Back on the road, we run into and out of some rain, leading to the happy discovery that the Rover’s wipers do, in fact, work. (A not-so-welcome discovery: the little drip from under the dashboard.) The 75 just hums along as we cover the miles to our destination: the storied Seneca Lodge in Watkins Glen, New York, where a meal and a bed await us.
There’s a long wait for a table, and so we swap stories over beers in the lodge’s rustic bar, whose walls are crowded with the mementos of the Formula 1 drivers who once competed in the U.S. Grand Prix at Watkins Glen. After dinner, the ABRR organizers have a treat for us: The showing of a film that details the town’s venerable racing history, and a talk by Bill Green, a motorsports historian and lifelong resident of the Glen who knows that story by heart. The talk starts late and goes more than an hour past schedule, but no one seems to mind much, even though we’re looking at a 6:30 a.m. call to breakfast.
Saturday dawns brisk, with a remnant of the previous day’s rain. I’m charmed by the sight of the faithful Rover–it’s quite a thing to realize that you’re hundreds of miles from home, and counting on a 65-year-old car to get you there. After breakfast, there’s one more tribute to be paid to Watkins Glen’s historic past: two laps of the original 6.6-mile Grand Prix road course, used from 1948 through 1952. As we cross the Stone Bridge and negotiate Milliken’s Corner, we get a glimpse of what Cameron Argetsinger, John Fitch, Briggs Cunningham, Zora Arkus-Duntov and so many others saw so long ago.
Dirk gets to drive the road course, but after that, it’s my turn. Today is the day we cover some 280 miles, nearly half the total of the run. The Rover starts on the button, true to form, and the four-speed on the column soon becomes a familiar friend. The recirculating-ball worm-and-nut steering is light and accurate, acceleration is adequate, and the handling is much more accomplished than the car’s roly-poly styling might lead you to believe. If I could improve just one thing, it would be those unassisted brakes.
We press deep into wine country, tracing the western edge of Seneca Lake up to the city of Geneva, the Lake Trout Capital of the World, at its northern tip, and then heading south and east toward Ithaca on the southern tip of Cayuga Lake. Wine country gives way to farm country, but the wineries reassert themselves as Cayuga comes into view. In the village of Interlaken, we pass the entrance to Lucas Vineyards–a missed photo opportunity if ever there was one.
Eastward we press, headed for Norwich, New York, where a lunch of sandwiches is waiting at the Northeast Classic Car Museum. It’s my first visit to this hidden gem, and Dirk’s, too, and we join our fellow teams in admiring the largest collection of Franklins in the U.S., an exhibit of cars built in New York, Full Classics, big Fifties beauties and much more. Though we’ve got a demanding schedule to keep, we decide to linger until we’ve had our fill.
As it turns out, we’re champion lingerers. Dave calls me to say that the group is leaving; we tell him that we’ll be right along, as soon as we’ve seen a bit more of the museum. A few minutes later, I get another call, asking if we’re on the road yet–which we’re not. It finally dawns on me that Dave is trailing the pack in the Ragtops & Roadsters support van, and that he’ll have to double back if we run into a problem. He advises us to take a more direct highway route, so that we’re not too late for dinner, at a place called The Lotus Shack.
No problem. The maximum speed of a Rover 75, according to the factory, is 82 MPH. We take NY Route 17, a limited-access highway, and I let the Rover find its own comfortable cruising speed, which is around 67 MPH. At this rate, the engine sounds perfectly happy, and the car is still quiet enough for regular conversation. We make just one stop, to fill the tank, and get to our destination on the dot of 6–on time.
Dave has also taken NY 17, it turns out, because he’s had to make a stop to rescue a TR6 that had suffered ignition failure. He’s given luckless Team Luddite the keys to the “Car of Shame,” the Mazda Miata he’s been carrying in the trailer behind his van, and loaded the wounded Triumph in its place. As evening falls, the Triumph gets sorted out, once again ready to continue the run, and the Mazda goes back into storage.
The Lotus Shack, as you might have suspected, is no restaurant, but a private collection starring several of Colin Chapman’s finest. A space has been cleared for tables in the center of the spacious shop, and we dine buffet-style amid the cars. At our table, conversation turns to the “Car of Shame”; after suggesting that, maybe, this should be a British car that would feel like a penalty to drive, we identify three three-wheeled microcars–the Bond Bug, the Peel 50 and the Reliant Robin–as likely candidates.
Temperatures dip overnight, and we wake on Sunday to discover frost on our windshields. We get our cars and ourselves going, set our heaters on full blast, and motor over to the Bright Star Diner in Central Valley, New York for a breakfast that will keep us going through the last leg of the run. The drive starts with a spirited run through Harriman State Park, its twisting, narrow roads and gorgeous scenery making this one of the high points of three days of driving.
We have less than 100 miles to go to our destination at this point, and as we press southwest through the farmlands of western New Jersey, it feels like a victory lap. We’re all still in this, all 32 of us, and running strong. There have been little hiccups here and there–an MG Midget lost its throttle cable, an MGB/GT lost a bushing in its rear suspension, and there was a rumor of a failed alternator–but nothing serious enough to knock a single car out of the running. Though Hagerty Insurance has been ready to provide towing if needed, they’ve played the role of the Maytag repairman all weekend, waiting in vain for the phone to ring.
By the time Dirk wheels the Rover into the parking lot of the Ship Inn, where we’ll have our awards luncheon, we’ve covered 611 miles–part of the 19,500 cumulative miles racked up by the teams. After a buffet lunch that includes some veddy British fish and chips and a pint or two of stout, Dave announces that we’ve managed to raise a record $23,807–more than doubling the organizers’ expectations. Prizes go to the top fund-raisers, led by Art Becker and Peter Dow–aka Team Wedge–who drove a TR8, and generated $1,685. Dirk is justifiably proud of how well the Rover has performed.
On the drive back to Quakertown, where the Rover will be loaded onto its trailer for the five-hour Interstate ride back to his home in central Massachusetts, we’re simultaneously glad to be done, and sorry that it’s over for another year. Dirk gives voice to my thoughts: What should we drive in the 2016 run? You know, he has a lovely Rover Tourer, an open, prewar four-seater, and we’ve got a year to get it ready….
The 2016 ABRR will take place on October 14-16. Watch for details at www.britishreliability.org.
TEAM MYB
1977 MG MGB // Mike and Karen Kearns
When an MGB was offered for sale by a member of his club, Mike bought it for Karen; after the engine dropped a valve, he decided to have a full restoration done. But the body had just returned from the paint shop when it was destroyed by a drunk driver who had passed out at the wheel, hitting Mike’s car and two other B’s parked at the curb. Mike was left with a rebuilt engine and gearbox and a new interior, and no car to put them in.
As luck would have it, another customer turned up at the same shop three weeks later with a 1977 MGB for sale. “The price was right, and it was the perfect home for my stuff,” Mike says. “My wife now has for all intents a new 1977 MGB. All is now right with the world, and I get to drive it on the ABRR!
“This was a spectacular run through some of the most beautiful countryside I have ever had the pleasure to see,” he continues. “The little British Sports Car buff in me wanted to drive hard and put our MG to the test, while the Leaf Peeper side wanted to go very slow to take in the spectacular beauty.”
TEAM 3UMPH
1972 Triumph GT6 // Dan and Sherry Tinsman
Dan became involved with British cars after meeting Sherry, a native Briton whose brother owned a Triumph Spitfire. He traded his 1955 Chevrolet truck for a Triumph TR6, which he’s driven twice on the Reliability Run. This time around, he decided to take the GT6 instead.
The straight-six coupe had been modified with a Ford T-9 five-speed gearbox and a new exhaust system. “I haven’t touched the exterior, but I’ve redone most of the interior and added a lot of insulation,” Dan says. “She’s now a joy to drive.”
Since joining the ABRR in 2008, when it came to the East Coast, Dan has planned all five routes, and he and Sherry have scouted four of the five. “Both of our daughters have been on the run, and now it’s Sherry’s turn,” he says. “I think this was our best ABRR so far. We couldn’t have had a better weekend for the run. It was a great group of people to spend the weekend with and we raised a boatload of money for very sick kids. We can’t wait until next year.”
ABOUT THE ROVER
Although two marques it spawned, Land Rover and Range Rover, are well known around the world today, Rover Cars has practically faded into oblivion among Americans, having sold its last car here, the SD1, in 1980. The P4, with its envelope body, represented a radical departure from the running-board Rovers that had come before, and was acclaimed as “one of the best cars in the world” by Road & Track in 1950.
Our car is a 75, named for the horsepower rating of its straight-six, and is one of the 3,563 built during the first year of P4 production. With styling heavily influenced by the Loewy-designed postwar Studebaker, it wore a center-mounted foglamp in U.K. trim, leading to its nickname: “Cyclops.” In the U.S., where our car was sold, third headlamps were illegal, and so a cap filled the hole. Square instruments, another U.S. influence, are a hallmark of first-year cars only.
The P4 was upgraded a number of times during its 15-year production run. The Cyclops lamp was replaced by a conventional grille in 1952, and the rear of the car was redesigned for 1955, with a larger trunk and a wraparound rear window. For 1957, revised front end styling gave the cars a closer resemblance to their larger P5 siblings.
The P4 served as the platform for the launch of Rover’s own automatic transmission, Roverdrive, in 1957, which survived for two model years. The car was offered with a variety of four- and six-cylinder engines, and gained power brakes in 1955, and front discs in 1960. By the time production ended in 1964, making way for the P6 (the 2000 and its successors), 130,342 P4s had been built.
The goals of the car’s designers, the ideas of reliability and subtle luxury, guided by solid postwar pragmatism, can be seen everywhere in the P4. “There’s an emotional feeling, I think, that comes from what went into making the car,” Dirk says of his 75. “It comes close to having a personality. It’s like an old friend who’s always there for you. It’s the one that always starts, and always gets you there.
It might be man’s second best friend.”
The MG A-TEAM
1960 MG MGA // Russ and Dave Sharples
This was the second ABRR in the MGA for Russ and his 23-year-old son, Dave. Their first was in 2013, when Dave was relatively new to standard-shift cars. “There were some missed shifts that time, but he did fine, zipping down some twisty, woodsy Pennsylvania roads, learning to appreciate manual steering and unassisted brakes. This time around he was an old hand at it and had no trouble at all,” Russ says. “The MGA ran beautifully, pulling well up the hills, and the short cut we took down NY 17 allowed us to open it up just for fun.
“In 2013, the weather was pretty mild, but this year it was cold and we got to experience MGA heat, and MGA drafts–it felt like winter camping! My head gear was crucial to being able to drive top down in 30 degree air. A baseball cap just doesn’t do it, but my leather helmet, purchased from a pilot’s shop, kept my head toasty. Dave, being from San Francisco, was a bit less used to the cold and needed a scarf and fur cap. It’s all in keeping with the slightly raw experience of a sports car designed in the 1950s with 1930’s technology.
“There is a powerful camaraderie that builds on the ABRR. The teams are united by their love of British engineering, the effort to raise funds for the charity, and overcoming the obstacles that naturally arise from running 50-year-old cars for 500 miles. One of the best parts is being out in the parking lot at 7 a.m. with frost on grass and on the cars and helping someone diagnose why their car won’t start. There’s a little uncertainty, a little mystery, a little adventure, and with luck–success! It makes for a very satisfying weekend. I can’t wait to do it again!”
MOTORCAR STUDIOS
1968 Jaguar E-Type // Nick Zabrecky, Andrew Paolucci
Nick and Andrew were there not just to participate, but, under the MotorCar Studios banner (www.motorcarstudios.com), to document the run in photos and video. “We chose to do the rally for two reasons, obviously the first being a great time driving through the New York foliage surrounded by fellow enthusiasts, and the second, to help out future reliability runs by documenting this year’s in hopes to increase awareness of [the 2016] rally,” Nick says. Coming up: a short video that can be used to promote the run. “ABRR is run for an excellent cause, and we were more than happy to help out in the promotion of the run!”
Nick reports that the Jag ran strong the entire weekend. “We ran most of the rally with the top down, which was certainly a bit chilly–but with the proper outerwear, it was easily bearable. The car was a true blast to drive, with more than enough power in the straights and awesome road holding in the turns. The only real limitation we found was the severe lack of trunk space. E-types certainly weren’t meant for long-distance cruising, especially with the amount of camera gear we had along!”
TRAVELING CRANBERRIES
1974 MG MGB // Landon Hunter, Renee Hackman
Landon describes himself as “almost ecstatic” with the performance of his pristine MGB, which, until now, has lived a pampered life. “Up to this point, my experience with the hobby, and this vehicle in particular, has been circulating the local circuits as a show car,” he says. “Driven lightly, parked, shown, polished and stored carefully. I have been getting a little bored with that. I have always derived more satisfaction from building them.”
Though he admits envisioning the kinds of failures the B might experience, “I was hoping deeply for what did indeed happen: The high intensity tempo, at least for us, has validated the restoration and build of this car.” As with the other participants, St. Christopher’s was on his mind: “I am grateful for many things, but to get those answers and that gratification while helping to soothe the course for children who may never get to feel the joys I was feeling that weekend made it even more poignant… for us all.
“Fresh people met, new friends made, and the fun of the British car hobby…. It created one of the most memorable weekends I will ever be able to recall,” he adds. “Who wouldn’t want to try it again?”
ABOUT ST. CHRISTOPHER’S FOUNDATION
The mission of the nonprofit St. Christopher’s Foundation for Children is “to support the health and well-being of children in the community served by St. Christopher’s Hospital for Children through programs in the areas of care, outreach, research and education,” according to the foundation’s website. One of the oldest full-service hospitals in the U.S. dedicated to the care of children, St. Christopher’s is a 189-bed, non-sectarian hospital located in Philadelphia.
How was St. Christopher’s chosen to be this year’s recipient? Dave Hutchison says that the idea came from Dr. Fred Simeone, one of the world’s pre-eminent neurosurgeons and the founder of Philadelphia’s magnificent Simeone Foundation Automotive Museum, an exceptional collection of racing sports cars (www.simeonemuseum.org). Dave was at the museum to help take down an exhibit, and asked the doctor to recommend a worthy charity that could use the support. Fred suggested St. Chris. “When we met with him, we thought we could maybe raise 5 or 10 grand. But we’re at $23,807, so we’re very pleased,” Dave says.
The run may be over, but the hospital’s work continues. To learn more about opportunities to give, visit www.scfchildren.org.
