I am making a presumption here, but I think this Morris 10 sedan I came across parked in an industrial estate was most likely there for a service at a nearby workshop that specialises in older cars.
(Edit – the car is a Morris 10 not a 12 as I originally wrote)
It was a typical case of seeing something interesting when you don’t have time to stop and photograph a car more fully, so I am going off what I can see.
British cars at this time were often named after their taxable or RAC horsepower rating, which was calculated based on the combined area of the pistons. Originally this would have been an effective, simple way to calculate actual horsepower, but not for long as engines were developed. There were of course unintended consequences too; new engines were developed with very long strokes to minimise the amount of tax paid. This was completely precedented of course – have you heard of the window tax?
This includes the Morris bonnet mascot which is quite distinct from the winged “A” of the otherwise very similar Austin 10. I understand that both cars used essentially the same Pressed Steel body in UK manufacture, while in Australia things were similar (shared bodies) but different in that assembly of Austin cars in this era was done by the distributor in each state. In South Australia the bodies were built by General Motors-Holden, carrying on from before GM bought Holdens Motor Body Builders, while in New South Wales it was the Pressed Metal Corporation. Despite the name the latter was not related to Pressed Steel in the UK.
Note the tow bar!
After WW2 things would change when Austin (Australia) Pty Ltd merged with Nuffield to form British Motor Corporation (Australia) in 1954, when assembly of most cars was moved to that companies own factories. Newer cars that were designed after the war were in production by this time too, but that is a story for another time.
The smallest 12-cylinder car I’ve ever seen. 🙂
At least that is what the name makes me think here in the US when cars were called Studebaker President 8, Auburn 12 or Marmon Sixteen because of the number of cylinders. Not the case in England (or Australia) apparently.
I looked it up and it appears these models were named from the engine’s taxable horsepower? It is funny how tax and regulatory systems can cause all sorts of unintended problems. I would surmise that the very small bore (for low taxation) and resultant long stroke (for decent displacement) that grew from the system hobbled British cars in the US at least as much as any other factor.
The British taxation law led to smaller engines than export markets wanted, but at least their engines were fairly torquey for their size. Sometimes a larger engine would be available for export markets, so some of the companies recognized the problem.
As well as that tax law, there was also the desire for fuel economy above almost all else – driven by expensive petrol, I’d guess. In the fifties Standard sold an Eight as well as a Ten, years after the RAC tax law had been repealed – surely fuel economy would have been the only reason it sold.
No, the Standard 8 & 10 were essentially the same car, but the 8 was a “stripper”. No chrome, no creature comforts of any kind, not even an opening luggage boot/trunk.
True. What I meant to say was that the 8 was so slow and underpowered that economy must have been the only reason they offered it with the small engine (803cc cf. 948cc for the 10 – yep, same capacity as the totally-unrelated Austin). And the early 8 was so unbelievably plain I had trouble imagining who would buy one rather than a used car.
12 RAC formula taxable horse power JPC, they were a four banger.
I think it may actually be a post-war Ten series M as the boot opening curves into the rounded top.
http://www.simoncars.co.uk/morris/slides/Morris%20Ten%20Series%20M%201948%20rear.jpg
The twelve has a slightly more angular boot.
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/be/Morris_12_series_III_Sixlite_Saloon_1938_model_%2814679099216%29.jpg
Mind, to me a lot of these pre-war cars look very much the same, even though my Uncle had a Wolseley version in the ’60s.
You’re likely right there the 10 was a slightly inflate 8E in the body, a friend has a Wolseley version but I havent seen it in a while and it was partly buried under junk last time I did.
You may well be right Bernard, but it seems that the boot area was changed over the years, pre- and post-war.
Regarding the unitary body aspect, the thing that stuck in my head was that with each new model in this era they were incorporating more and more of the chassis into the body so it was a bit of a gradual transition.
Makes sense because Pressed Steel started as a joint venture between Morris and the US body builder Budd. I wonder if it was the level of outsourcing – even in the 1960s Pressed Steel would design the bodies as well in at least some cases – that contributed to the downfall of the British car industry?
From what I’ve found both in the reference book I have and online is that only the Eight E and Ten M were reintroduced after the war (September 1945). If correct that would make the last Twelve very short lived.
You made me curious, so I checked. According to Harry Edwards’ 1983 book ‘The Morris Motor Car’, only the 8 and 10 returned postwar. The Series III cars from 1937, the 12 (1550cc, 40bhp), 14/6 (1818cc, 55bhp) and the 25 (3485cc/213inches, 95bhp, or America-sized!) did not return after the war. This would have fitted in with the then-government’s desire for the manufacturers to adopt a single-model policy.
This meant the 12 and its companions only lasted from October 1937 to the outbreak of war in 1939. But shorter than this was the run of the Series III Ten, which was replaced by the Series M Ten in August 1938 – ten months! Ah the breadth and the complexity of the British manufacturers’ model ranges in the Thirties!
It might have been the Austin 12 I was thinking of, before I zoomed in on the bonnet mascot? I don’t know these cars well.
Pressed steel built my Hillman body it has a plate under the back seat claiming so though the car is apprently NZ (Todd motors) assembled.
Did NZ have the same rules that banned the import of car bodies?
Australian Hillmans were built from imported panels, I don’t know if they have a body plate though. Years ago a crate turned up that was one of 4-6 that contained all the panels for 6 cars, ie it had 6 of a few of the panels that went into a car. They were mostly inner structure type panels, so not even that useful for crash or rust repair unfortunately.
If it is the Ten series E then, despite its antiquated appearance, it’s actually a unitary body. Morris were next after Vauxhall to adopt it in the UK.
Considering I’ve seen Ford Festiva here with tow bars and a small trailer behind, the picture above does not surprise me.
January, 1959, Melbourne. My parents drove off from their wedding in this model, a black 1948 Morris Ten. It was 43 degrees C (110F). Their friends had chalked on it “Just Married.” With 1940’s enamel technology, that announcement rather awkwardly stayed baked by the sun into the paint till they got rid of the car. They drove the overheating thing to gorgeous Wandilagong (near Bright in Vic). Dad tried to give mum a driving lesson, but they ended up in a creek. (Her driving was never much better in the ensuing many years). In an effort to stop the endless boiling, he put foaming washing powder through the radiator, but forgot to clean it out quickly enough and it made things worse. I can’t imagine what so distracted his attention. My oldest brother was born in early December 1959.
I rang him today to check a few details, and this beautiful, gentle old fella – he’s just one of life’s good people – mind still a razor at 83, still expresses venom for that car. The Morrie was a monocoque with solid axles and leaf springs front and rear, and it kept falling apart on him. The engine actually sheared from the mounts and hung on only by the radiator hoses. He said the steering was the worst of any car he’s driven. Like any English car of the time, had to rebuild the motor (as men did then) after just 25,000 miles. It finally cracked underneath in some way that couldn’t be economically repaired, and someone from his work towed it away for 10 pounds. They bought a big 1938 Oldsmobile in 1960 as my oldest sister arrived. Mum now had a licence somehow, but she couldn’t drive that either – she was too small, and used to get it stuck in places, then abandon it. Dad really liked it. After the Morrie, no wonder. You get an idea here of why people so loved the Holden, US toughness on a smaller scale. Dad traded the Olds for one in ’63.
My mum was a character, clever, funny, a feminist out of her time (and who rejected feminism when it came, feeling rightly it disparaged home makers). I loved her, and am endlessly grateful for the way she raised us, but she certainly wasn’t wasn’t all sweetness and light. My good Catholic old man adored his wife, so much so that there were quickly enough six of us, me last. He romanced her and everything about her.
Even until she wasn’t sure who he was any more, and her death late last year has left him shrunken and lost.
But despite the grand 59 year long passion, and the rose-coloured lenses he has now (he is entitled, of course), and the sweetness of those first few weeks as man and wife, the Morris is not included. “The Morris?’, he says. “That was a bloody awful car! Why on earth would some one photograph THAT?”
Cheers, mum. Wherever you are, I hope your driving has improved. And know that your doubtless- traumatic first experience of driving and steering really wasn’t your fault.
Thanks. Nice essay.
Thank you for the lovely story. It’s a tribute to the spirit of CC – there are human stories behind the cars.
Did your father get an EH or EJ back in 1963?
Why thankyou for that. No, too many kids for new car. He got a ’55 FJ, at 7 years old still the newest car he’s ever owned. It was a good and reliable car, though at just 7 years old, in a salt-free environment, it turned out to have no drivers floor! No second-hand warranties from Cheney’s then, so he rivetted in some sort of fix himself.
And in it, all seven (and later, eight) of us went off motoring. Gulp.
Great story justy. I can just imagine your mother leaving the car and walking home to give your father the task of going to retrieve it!
My great-grandmother got a new EK in 1961 or 62, and drove it past her 90th birthday, including down the laneway behind her house into the garage in the back yard which would have been a tight maneuvre. Of course there wasn’t any power steering and my grandmother who would have been in her thirties at the time, remembered it being like a truck to drive. The floors in the EK apparently rusted out too!