Now, back to my Sunbeam adventures. I had attended a number of car shows and other car-club events since the purchase of my ’67 Sunbeam Alpine, and as a result, had the opportunity to closely examine several examples of the Rootes Group’s eight-cylinder sports car, the Sunbeam Tiger. Now, my freshly rebuilt two-car garage (with one empty space) gave me the excuse I needed to consider filling that void. What could possibly go wrong?
Patriot re-enactors temporarily occupying my Alpine at a Washington Crossing State Park, New Jersey car show. A more powerful LBC might have deterred them.
When the seller asked me: “Are you sure?” I should have given the whole deal a second thought, maybe two or three. But there I was, somewhere in southwestern Connecticut in the spring of 1984, staring at a very well-used 1966 Sunbeam Tiger with some 80K on its odometer and showing ample evidence that it had supplied the tin-worm with steady work for the previous several years. With apologies to William Blake’s 1794 “The Tyger,” which provided me with the title inspiration and featured image, what other surprises might lurk within?
Upon raising the hood and checking the coolant level, as well as the brake and clutch reservoirs, all looked to be topped up, with no obvious leaks. Removing the air filter suggested that the Tiger’s four-barrel Holley carb might have been treated to a relatively recent rebuild. Other than that, the dirty engine compartment showed no other evidence of routine maintenance.
The interior also had that lived-in look, with a cracked dash pad and split seams on both the driver’s and passenger’s seats. The once-black carpeting had uniformly faded to beige, and what remained of the Tiger’s convertible top had clearly seen better days as well. On the positive side, the car had a mostly-complete removable hardtop (though its Perspex™ windows were crazed and foggy), and its wood dash and wood-rim steering wheel were in surprisingly good condition. The latter’s telescopic adjustment still functioned, amazingly enough.
The Tiger’s dash. I had removed the shift boot to replace the shift lever bushing springs and cups, which made a noticeable improvement.
In the car’s defense, it started right up on the first turn of the ignition key (after allowing a few seconds for the electric fuel pump to tick over) as its 260 V8 rumbled to life. Putting the car into gear and cautiously releasing the clutch, I noted that, in fact, I was able to obtain forward (and rearward) motion, with no strange noises from the clutch or the rest of the drivetrain. The brakes actually stopped the car, at least from extremely low speeds, though the emergency brake lever reached nearly the end of its travel without any appreciable effect. I mentally added that adjustment to a potential ‘to-do’ list.
Shutting off the ignition, I got out of the car and let the seller know of my interest, but not at his Pennysaver-advertised asking price of $2,000. After some negotiation, I countered with an offer of $1,750, whereupon the seller asked me the question posed above. Assuring him that yes, I was making him a real, bona-fide offer for the Tiger, he quickly accepted. Maybe too quickly. Most of the cash I had brought with me then changed hands, and the deal was done.
The Tiger, in all its rusty glory. Today, my $1,750 purchase price might pay for the removable hardtop alone.
With a signed title and a bill of sale, I departed Connecticut for home at about 4:30 PM, just in time to hit rush-hour traffic on the infamous Merritt Parkway, a narrow 1938-vintage highway traversing the state’s so-called “Gold Coast”, on which buses and heavy trucks are (thankfully) not allowed.
“The Merritt,” as locals refer to it, is a well-forested 1930s parkway (with most of its entrance and exit ramps dating from the same era). (Source: Wikipedia Commons/Dennis Adams)
From there, I continued west on the Cross Westchester Expressway (I-95), merging onto I-80 west and picking up I-287 South toward home. Staying on the Interstates because I felt that they might be better patrolled in case the Tiger for some reason ‘failed to proceed’ at some point, my worries turned out to be groundless. I had heard that overheating was a commonly-experienced Tiger issue, especially in stop-and-go traffic, so I kept a wary eye on the temperature gauge throughout the trip. Luckily, the gauge never wavered far from mid-scale, and I never resorted to popping the front-hinged hood onto its secondary latch (allowing more air movement within the engine compartment) or turning the heater on (known to be a last-ditch measure) to assist in cooling.
After an uneventful maiden journey, I arrived home later that evening (but not late enough that I needed to use the headlamps, thus potentially summoning the Prince of Darkness). Opening my new garage door, I slowly rolled the Tiger inside, enjoying its intoxicating V8 idle for a few moments before shutting off the ignition.
A “front three-quarter view” of the enlarged garage and its then 30-ish owner, with the ’67 Alpine. OK, CC readers: Any guesses on the other vehicle?
Listening to the ticking of the cooling engine, I sat back in the driver’s seat. Still grasping the steering wheel, I contemplated my purchase. Tomorrow would be time to begin documenting the Tiger’s short-term needs, but for now it was enough to bask in the excitement of this new acquisition – and a garage now well-filled.
In retrospect, I could have predicted what was to follow…
(Lede image from www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/williamblake)
Related CC reading:
Very brave! Those are scary looking holes in the cills. I hope the fastback Rapier wasn’t as rusty.
I saw a nice one that had been given a full 289 Cobra Kit.
It had no windshield and road rash across the hood.
No word on the condition of the driver was available
Well, at least your title was changed in a way to suggest that your car did not burst into flames and consume itself. But I suppose the rust is just a very slow version of that same thing.
What a great old poem. One night one of my kids announced (at about 9 pm) that he needed a poem to read in class the next day. I panicked, because we are not a household where tomes of poetry are easily found. But I located an old English lit book of my mother’s from her school days, and found this gem, which I triumphantly handed to the lad. He was really into animals at the time and loved it. I have grown fond of it myself.
https://getyarn.io/yarn-clip/7eab54e4-73a8-4c2e-b1f1-4fe328f114c2
A brave soul. And a Sunbeam Alpine coupe in the background. You were a RotoRootes franchisee?
I commend your bravery sir. Washington Crossing State Park was the venue for the Delaware Valley Norton Owner’s Group. Their logo one year was famous painting of him crossing the Delaware with a Commando as cargo lashed to the deck. Caption was “The Spoils of War” Looking forward to your next post
Hillman Husky platform sports coat Ford V8 engine, what could go wrong? a 1724 Alpine in good tune is too much for a Husky van and with a 3.89 rear axle will easily pass 100mph and give a wild ride, the V8 option is weapons grade done right
Perhaps the most famous Tiger – Maxwell Smart’s Carnival Red example.
Apparently, Don Adams liked the car so much he took it as part of his compensation package for playng the bumbling Agent 86 of CONTROL.
I’ve seen at least two late model cars in my town recently with “I’d rather be driving my Sunbeam Tiger” stickers. A Volvo V70 and a Ford Focus. So why aren’t they driving their Tiger?
(to Lucas Himself)
Tiger, Tiger, now burning bright
In the forest, where I turned right
What internal class-bound “I”
Could blame’d your damned electricit-tie?
Yeah, NO .
I grew up with gaping holes like that in full framed vehicles, in an LBC, hard pass .
On the other hand, once you get the bug for an LBC all reason flies out the window so no worries, at least it ran decently .
I have never had the chance to drive a V8 LBC, I imagine it’s rather fun .
-Nate