The number of UK car museums –with heavily revised and expanded collections such as British Motor Museum (BMM)– available seems to be increasing and has inevitably led to some interesting takes on creating a distinctive offering.
The original, the National Motor Museum at Beaulieu in Hampshire collects the best of as much as possible; the BMM covers the history of the British motor industry with manufacturer support and archive access, as an industry; the Haynes Museum curates a superb but personal collection; the Silverstone Experience tells the story of modern Grand Prix racing superbly and the Brooklands Museum takes you back to the early days of motorsport and aviation with a great atmosphere, with the London Bus museum on the site too. And there are several smaller museums, often with a distinct twist or history offering a good day out too.
One of the more recent openings was the Great British Car Journey, opened in 2021 after COVID delays. The GBCJ is in Ambergate in Derbyshire, close to the town Matlock and village of Cromford, home to William Arkwright’s mill and arguably one of the birthplaces of the industrial revolution. The plot line of the museum itself is to tell the story of the British car industry over the last 100 years or so, the period in which cars started to become affordable for many. Inevitably, the exhibits feature many cars that not only tell that story, but also work the nostalgia buttons we all have. Whether you’re 8 or 98, the British cars of your formative years will be there, and if Dad had a car, there’s a fair chance it (or something very close to it) will be there. Let’s take a quick photo tour.
Did your Dad have a Daimler Double Six? It might have been this one.
The museum features the cars from the British journey, so the exhibits are predominantly UK built, though not only from UK owned businesses. You can’t tell the great British car journey without Ford, GM or Chrysler, obviously.
There was no bigger player in that journey than William Morris, Lord Nuffield. This is a Morris Minor Series II Traveller, the car that put Alec Issigonis on the road to fame.
Also present, one of the special edition Minor 1000000, built to celebrate it being the first British car to sell a million.
All were lilac; no other Minors were.
If you went to a Morris (or Nuffield) dealer and wanted to stand out, you could get a Riley 4/Seventy Two. This is a 1968 car, the last year of Riley.
Alongside is a Wolseley 16/60 – the same car with different grilles and trim, but the BMC B series engine was in a lower state of tune. Both were twined with the Austin Cambridge, Morris Oxford and MG Magnette, as part of the BMC Farina family. You often need a good map for a British car journey to avoid confusion.
A more recent Morris – an 1800 Mk2, always known as the Landcrab, alongside the car that too many still associate with the Morris, a Marina.
In this case, a 1979 1.3 litre Marina Coupe.
The dramatically styled Princess was Leyland’s follow up to the awkwardly styled Landcrab. Awkward styling was replaced by confused branding, with the car starting with Austin, Morris and Wolseley nameplates, before going to Princess, with no marque as such, after a few months and then being extensively facelifted to create the short-lived Austin Ambassador.
The interior was much easier on the eye though, and as some ergonomists had been allowed in, on the user too.
Over at BMC’s other main market brand, you could have an Austin A30. This is a 1954 car, sharing its 803cc A series engine with the contemporary the Minor.
Going back further, how about a 1930 Austin Seven with Swallow bodywork? Swallow became Jaguar from 1945, by when it was building complete cars not just bodywork for specials.
Or maybe an Austin Se7en, as the first Austin Minis were named?
Here’s one paired with one of the last Mini Coopers (not MINI Coopers) that was purchased in the spring of 2000 and never registered.
A choice of 1978 Mini Clubman estate with the longer, boxy nose, a 1965 Austin Mini Countryman and a 1963 Austin Mini.
A 1981 Austin Maxi 2 – 2 denotes a very mild facelift from 1980. This car is from the last weeks of Maxi production.
A black grille and new steering wheel were the key elements. The vinyl roof and bright red carpets are almost certainly aftermarket.
The museum could not be complete without an Austin Allegro. The GBCJ goes better than expected with an Allegro estate – practical Dad’s choice.
The estate never had the (in)famous square, or Quartic, steering wheel.
This is not an Allegro – it’s a Vanden Plas 1500. To most people, that’s an Allegro with an old fashioned grille and very traditional interior, with all the leather and walnut you could ask for, up to and including picnic tables.
A bi-focal windscreen was a popular option, quite possibly.
The Allegro’s predecessor was the BMC ADO16, most commonly sold as the Austin or Morris 1100 and 1300 range, and also sold under other BMC brands. This is a 1968 MG 1300 saloon, alongside is just about to be succeeded, by the Ford Escort, competitor the Ford Anglia 105E.
The ADO16 came as an estate too – this is a 1969 Morris 1300.
For the 1966 Geneva Motor Show, BMC prepared this cutaway of an Austin 1100 estate. Seemingly stronger than you might think, it’s still doing the rounds, ultimately owned (IIRC) by the BMM.
Following the Allegro came the 1980 Austin Metro supermini, with a technical make up seemingly a mix of Mini and Allegro.
This evolved into the 1990 Rover Metro, in blue, with the new Rover Group K series engine. This was Rover’s last solo mass market product.
High on the memory scale for me was this 1973 Triumph Toledo. I learned to drive on my Mum’s Toledo, a 1972 car with the shorter bumpers that did not wrap around the corners.
The Toledo was a rear drive derivative for the front wheel drive Triumph 1300, with a simplified and more contemporary interior.
Effectively, it was the Dolomite’s little brother with the same centre section, a shorter tail and missing the quad headlamp front.
The Dolomite was evolved from the 1300TC; the interim model was the front wheel drive 1500TC, now a very rare sight.
This museum also covered the Rootes Group products well, something that doesn’t always happen. A 1967 Humber Hawk estate, the last big Humber.
Something rarely seen anywhere now – a 1955 Hillman Minx Californian. This was a hardtop version of the Hillman Minx, and effectively replaced by the higher margin Sunbeam Rapier on the next generation.
This is a Hillman Avenger – Plymouth Cricket in North America – a car built to take on the Vauxhall Viva and Ford Cortina Mk2 with Chrysler’s money and capability. This is a 1970 1.25 litre Avenger Super.
The Hillman Hunter (Sunbeam Arrow) was another Rootes product that spawned a family.
This is a 1972 Humber Sceptre, the up market version – the Buick to the Hillman’s Chevrolet if you like. Behind is a Hillman Husky – the tall estate version of the Hillman Imp.
An intriguing amalgam between a Brougham and an Edwardian drawing room.
The UK market got Sunbeam only on the Rapier (and its decontented Alpine version) coupe. This is a 1973 Rapier, in an unusual but period correct purple.
Roy Axe may have blatantly copied the Barracuda, but it did give us a good looking car.
The original Sunbeam Alpine was a derivative of the post war Sunbeam-Talbot saloons, named after its success in the Alpine rallies. This is a 1955 example.
It was good enough for Stirling Moss; it’s good enough for me and there’s a link to the GoFundMe page below the line…..
Rootes may have had product issues, but few would deny that they could do a good interior, either with US inspired pizazz or traditional English wood and leather. Clockwise from top left, 1955 Sunbeam Alpine, 1967 Humber Hawk, 1973 Sunbeam Rapier and the 1972 Humber Sceptre.
Vauxhall were a key part of this story, and of my memories as my Uncle worked at Luton for over thirty years. A Victor (FB series) VX 4/90 from 1964.
With another nice interior, complete with a grab handle.
A Victor FD, perhaps my pick as the best looking Vauxhall and best looking 1960s UK family saloon.
And the last solo saloon effort from Vauxhall – the 1972 FE Victor. This is a 1974 car, which had been stored from new and taken out only for a trip to an aftermarket rustproofing service. When the owner passed away, the mileage totalled just 90 miles, and there was a spare exhaust system in the boot. Alongside is a 1995 Ford Mondeo saloon.
Later Vauxhall are there too – a 1982 Chevette hatchback, a 1982 Cavalier, perhaps the most significant Vauxhall of the time, and a 1985 Astra Mk 2 estate.
And of course, the Viva – here are examples of the HB and, behind, the HA models.
The Victor FD was arranged neatly alongside its nemesis – the Ford Cortina Mk3.
Launched two years later, slightly smaller and with a much wider range of engines, trim levels, more dealers and a great launchpad to build on – the Cortina Mk 2. It became Britain’s best seller very quickly, and stayed there until usurped by the Mk 4.
This is a 1972 car; alongside is a Mk2 estate in an ambulance configuration.
The Cortina was ultimately superseded by the Ford Sierra from 1982; this is a 1991 Mark 2, with the larger lights and windows.
There are many other cars in the collection I have not covered – this can be only a taster and the full collection has many other secrets, and the contemporary banners and advertising add some context and memory triggers as well, even if they don’t help the photographer.
Overall, this is a terrific museum, staffed by friendly cheerful staff and volunteers. You are offered a tablet based audio guide, which will also scan the QR codes on the notices for links to narrated stories around some of the cars. Going on Father’s Day probably didn’t help, either, but that’s the way diaries work.
If I had one observation it is that the museum sort of tries to do two things – tell the story of the British industry, which arguably the BMM does better through its manufacturer partnerships and archive access, and also support the memory side of the tale, with the recollection and nostalgia triggers all around. This is something, through the selection and arrangement of the cars, that the GBCJ does very well and could be made into a powerful USP.
You could add, if you take point about nostalgia and memory, an adjustment on exhibit selection – the Great British Car Journey could include some imported vehicles too. You don’t have to be very old for your family car journeys to have been in, say, a VW Beetle, Renault 16, Fiat 124, Volvo 144 or Datsun Bluebird, and their collective influence was obviously massive.
There is another novel offering at the museum, which we’ll see in a couple days too. No spoilers, but there’s a reason there were several collection vehicles in the car park.
Overall, the museum is well worth a British car journey, or more likely a car journey in Britain. Call it a great British car journey destination if you like.
No Rover 75. I always like that car.
Too bad BMW backed away and left it to whither on the vine.
There is a Rover 75 in the collection; sadly, I can’t show everything in one post!
I’ve had car journeys through Ambergate hundreds of times, if not more over the last 60 years. Some of the earlier ones sliding around the vinyl back seats of cars very like the ones in the museum.
I have a memory of meeting my parents meeting dad’s parents in Ambergate in the mid 60s when my mum and grandmother had just learnt to drive. There was a garage that specialised in selling ex forces Morris Minor Travellers, but they didn’t buy one.
The Crich Tramway Museum is very close to Ambergate if one museum isn’t enough for you.
Well that looks like a good museum to spend a day in. I recall many of those cars from when I was young and Canada was more British.
Always fun to see a Vauxhall Viva not exploding with rust. But a MK3 Cortina always gives me a chill, our neighbour across the street got into a head on collision in one. He was badly injured and for some reason the bloodstained wreck of the Cortina lay in their yard for a while.
I’m sure it’s not an original thought, but the front end of 1972 FE Victor has strong Buick Riviera overtones to an American. The pea green color is perfect for the era, too.
Speaking of Buick, the grille of the brown prewar car (HOA 408) looks a good deal like a 1937-38 Buick. It isn’t a Vauxhall, is it? I see no fluting.
The FE Ventora version is even closer, having an egg-crate grille and four (square) headlights.
As for the old brown shooting brake, it’s an Austin Sixteeen and (just) Post War:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Austin_16_hp
A real ‘woodie’ too.
Thanks. It’s a pretty car.
The Austin 16 was prewar I wrote one up that still passes a commercial vehicle inspection and is used as a art deco tour car in Napier NZ tough old things the engines were used by Austin in the Gipsy as late as 66 and in Morris light commercials. The Napier car was delivered just prior to WW2 1939 when shipping became restricted
The one in the museum was first registered in 1947.
In the UK the Mk2 Cortina was replaced by the stylish Mk3. In the US, the Mk2 was replaced by first the Maverick, and then the Pinto. We got the short end of the stick. I guess Canada got all three, including the Mk3, at least briefly.
! WOW ! total LBC overload, I love this especially all those little weird looking 50’s BMC products I remember so well .
I know a guy who used to have A Hillman California, one of the few Rootes cars I liked, one day some jerk pried the chrome “CALIFORNIA”badge off the boot =8-( .
So much British motoring goodness and NO RUST .
-Nate
The FD Victor is has always been one of my favorites, as is the decade later Princess. My uncle Bertie (manager of the Arsenal soccer team) had an FB VX4/90 in grey with leopardskin seat covers, later a series of Rover Three Thousand Fives. Beside the FB is my first car – Triumph Vitesse – greta memories of these proto 3 Series sports saloons and convertibles.
My Dad’s final car was a Cavalier Mk1 with similar front end styling to the Chevette. IMHO it was that car, styled by Erhard Schnell at Opel with the front from Vauxhall’s Wayne Cherry that really turned Vauxhall around.
Is that a Gilbern Invader behind the red XJ12, btw?
Yes, a Gilbern Invader, from Wales.
And I’d agree that the Cavalier existing and being better than the Cortina was existential to the Vauxhall brand – now UK only of course.
Yep, set the stage for the fwd Mk2 Cav…That car in SRi form was a revelation – so lively compared to the Sierra…
FD Victors were popular in NZ and could be had with the 3.3 Cresta engine, winner of the B&H 500 production car race in 66. We didnt get the 6 cylinder Ventora versions
Californian Hillmans arent really all that rare here yet good examples keep getting found Smash Palace has a mint one hidden in a shed and another collection in Dannevirke has several though they have been parked for decades
Great selection, Sir Rog. What the workers drove.
I was born in ’68. What’s striking to me is that with practically all the cars shown, they were the low/no budget second-handers by the time I remember them (the reason why my sister got a ’74 Marina in ’82!). And this was during the very long time here where 2nd hand cars held heaps of value. Old ladies in Moggies or those silly A30’s, annoyed housewifes left with failing, leaning 1100’s in mortgageland (while dad took the Holden to work), once-posh 12 y.o. Humbers now $599 specials in 2nd hand yards, uni students in smokey, miserably skinny Riley Farinas, abandoned 1800’s in every second front yard. I think everyone had become aware that Japanese cars owned the small-car game: they didn’t break, even when 10 years+ old.
And for that reason, I had a resentful, turned-up-nose attitude to most of these little miseries for the longest time, but age has has softened me (or perhaps my brain). Now, I like nearly all of them, for their character, for their place in the world, and in time. A museum like this is thus a worthy thing indeed.
Just don’t ever ask me to actually buy one of ’em.
Btw, I love the Marina poster behind the brown Farina Riley – looks like the front wing has already been replaced! Should read “Marina – twice your money for the car”, given the breakdown and repair rate (and indeed, I actually first read it that way!)
What a great museum!
Eleven years older than Justy, I can remember a time when small cars were British, and were actually in use rather than being yard art. Dad was a Morris man, until BMC put Oxford badges on the defiantly-unsporting Austin Cambridge, at which point Dad jumped ship for Ford. But my early childhood memories were full of Morris Oxfords, Minors (and Majors, because Australia), 1100s, Austin A30s and 1800s, Hillman Minxes…. Vanguards were everywhere, a next door neighbour had a Jowett, while the big Rovers and RM Rileys seem to be well-regarded country cars for eating up the miles in more comfort than American-based cars offered. Less commonly you’d see Triumphs and Vauxhalls on the street as well, though I have no personal connection with them.
Broadly speaking though, quailty seemed to be optional; as we know, that was a large part of their downfall. I’m surprised there was a ’74 Marina left for Justy’s sister to buy in ’82; it must have been one of the last assembled. Once Leyland Australia closed down, it was often hard finding someone prepared to work on the BMC designs. Chrysler tossed out Hillman and looked to Mitsubishi for their small cars, Holden went with Isuzu, and after a while Ford went with Mazda designs.
Once older Aussies became comfortable with buying a car from a former wartime enemy (which some never did), the Japanese drove the British out simply by doing things better. Often for less money. too, while throwing in more goodies.
Never mind my memories; what a great museum!
Thanks for the tour.
The Toledo, with its conversion to RWD, never fails to surprise me. Who needs FWD anyway? it’s just expensive, complicated claptrap.