When does a car attain “living fossile” status? Forty years seems like a minimum, in my book, but your Ice Age may vary. So what can we file under this definition? Not a whole lot. The VW Beetle, obviously. The Lada Zhuguli, no doubt. The Morgan Plus 4, to be sure. The BMC Mini (1959-2000) barely qualifies, as does the Citroën 2CV (1949-1990). There may be a few more, but the only Asian member of the club that I could name, though, would be the sacred dinosaur that is the Ambassador.
Hindustan Motors (HM) built the Ambassador, out of their West Bengal factory on the outskirts of Calcutta, without changing the basic body shell, or much of the chassis (engine excepted), from 1958 to 2014. How this particular one ended up in Tokyo is somewhat mysterious, but I’ve learned to expect the unexpected in this city. It’s an occasion, however, to look into the very peculiar automotive history of the Subcontinent in general and of HM in particular.
The Amby, as it’s affectionately called, may be India’s most treasured national automotive symbol, but as I’m sure many of you know, it was really born in the UK in October 1956 as the Morris Oxford Series III. The Morris angle of the story has been expertly CCovered by Roger Carr already, so I’ll skip that part. But although the Amby became their main claim to fame, Hindustan Motors had prior expertise in carmaking.
The company was founded in 1942 and started assembling Morris Tens in 1946, just prior to Indian independence. A complete history of Hindustan Motors is a little outside the scope of this post, given that they assembled a pretty large array of vehicles over the years, including Chevrolet and Bedford trucks, Zetor tractors, Isuzu trucks, Vauxhall cars and Mitsubishi 4x4s.
We’ll just focus on the Morris side of the equation here. The Ambassador was the fifth Morris design adopted by HM when production started off in 1958, but it would end up being the definitive one. The very first cars still had the Morris side-valve engine, but this was very quickly changed to the 50hp 1.5 litre B-Series OHV used on so many BMC-related vehicles throughout the world. The Mark II (1964-75) brought a new grille and a marked increase in locally-sourced parts.
The sturdy Ambassador chassis was also used for hard labour. Station wagons and delivery vans could be ordered from the factory, or a commercial chassis could be supplied instead for a variety of Indian coachbuilders to finish the job.
By the time the Mark 4 was launched in 1979, the Ambassador had become India’s undisputed “King of the Road.” Yet apart from a few modest esthetic changes, as well as, if Indian web sources are to be trusted (and why wouldn’t they be?), a marked decline in build quality, the car had changed very little in its first couple of decades.
Diesel power became available for a select few circa 1980: private owners were not yet allowed to partake, but taxis, some government operators and commercial chassis buyers could sample the 36hp thrill of the BMC 1.5 litre oil-burner. This was later relaxed, and many an Ambassador currently in operation has been retrofitted with the cost-saving Diesel, though usually the more capable Isuzu 2-litre.
In 1990, the Amby was given yet another facelift, now becoming the “Nova.” In addition, HM launched a deluxe variant called the Classic – i.e. our feature car – that was also available, for the first time, with a pair of Isuzu engines: a 1.8 litre 75hp petrol and the aforementioned 2-litre Diesel.
These Isuzu engines were all the Amby needed to have the ability to simultaneously go up hills and provide A/C – quite a desirable option in a place like India.
The Nova / Classic also ushered a more plasticky interior. The outside of the car still said 1956, but in here, it’s definitely the ‘90s. The transmission also abandoned the steering column and became a 5-speed.
The Ambassadors of the ‘90s were definitely still at the top of the heap in their home market. Being one of the largest domestic cars on offer meant that nearly all the police, government employees and politicians from the president down to the local mayor used the back seat of the Amby. And a pretty tight space it is, too.
Regardless of the car’s antediluvian design (or perhaps because of it), HM tried exporting the Ambassador to a number of countries by the early ‘90s and into the next decade. You could purchase India’s most famous automobile in places like Pakistan, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh, but that’s not unexpected. However, some were also sent over to the UAE, Japan and Great Britain – an interesting case of return migration.
It’s quite unclear how many Ambassadors were shipped abroad in general and in Japan in particular, or whether this specific one made it here when new. The fuel-injected Isuzu engine would have been a definite point in its favour, along with the looks. But it would still be a hard sell, even at the doubtless crazy low MRSP these would have been peddled at.
Yet even in India, time was marching on. The Ambassador seemed to keep its national symbol status into the new millennium, but an increasing amount of competitors started threatening the immortal Amby. Yearly production went from 25,000 on average in the ‘70s and ‘80s to 15,000 by the turn of the century. Then in 2003, the unthinkable happened: the Indian president switched to BMW. That same year came the Ambassador Grand, one of the more in-depth facelifts the car was ever subjected to. This was followed by the even-more-facelifted Avigo in 2004. The Classic remained in the line-up in parallel for a number of years, though – but it was all to no avail, the Ambassador was now losing relevance in its home market. HM finally called it quite in 2014.
I’m not very sure of the model year for this car. It’s very difficult for non-experts such as yours truly to date any Ambassador, the pre-Grand ones even more so. It’s not just the antique detailing, either: this particular car, but Ambies were routinely rebodied over the years.
This is another level of weird. I heard of Tatra 603s being remodeled by the factory, so that your series 1 could look like a series 3. But nobody actually owned Tatra 603s back in the day: they were not sold to private individuals. Ambassadors were also “official” cars, but private sales were permitted, even in the pre-liberalization days. So if you wanted the new look for your old chassis, HM had you covered – and they weren’t shy about advertising it, either.
What is so great about the Amby is the randomness of the whole affair. The VW Beetle or the Mini were designed to be ground-breaking, sold far and wide, and possibly for a long time. The Morris Oxford Series III was never supposed to be in this category, yet through a series of unlikely events, it outlasted its sell-by date by half a century and half a world away.
I’m so glad to have happened upon this accidental Bollywood legend! Just goes to show that, given enough time, every and any car in the world can be spotted in Japan.
Related posts:
CC Outtake: Hindustan Ambassador Spotted In Calgary, by PN
Curbside Classic: 1955 Morris Oxford Series II Traveller – From Cowley to Kolkatta, in 60 years, by Roger Carr
Oxfords were common cars here long ago and the lineup included wagons utes and vans most have been beaten by the rust termite now but they were tough durable cars while they lasted.
Hindustans are getting pretty thin on the ground in India. I haven’t been to India since before the pandemic, but I only saw no more than three or four in the combined 5 weeks that I spent there. Here’s one that I photographed in Chennai in 2016.
From behind.
In high school in 1980, I had a fellow student whose family was from India, but he had been raised in the US, and had the sensibilities of an American teenager.
His family seemed to have money, and visited India regularly. I first learned of this ubiquitous car of India from him. I had the impression that this was essentially the only car available in India as the country was protecting its auto industry and not allowing alternatives.
I don’t know what his family drove in the US, I’ll assume something nice, and he didn’t hold the Hindustan in very high regard.
Thanks for the presentation on this ubiquitous car, in India, of which I knew little other than what I have read here and there.
Thank you for a fantastic find and an interesting post.
The featured Amby looks in great condition. Surreal to see the 1990s style interior inside a 1950s body.
Also surreal was the advert for body shells. I had to double check that the Morris Oxford was unit construction (it was). Surely it wouldn’t be worth the trouble to transfer the doubtless well worn mechanical components to a new shell.
I’ve heard that in the old DDR people would buy new bodyshells for their Wartburgs (which did have separate chassis) as a way of beating waiting lists. I wonder if it was a similar situation for the Amby?
Thanks for another informative write up T87, and for getting such a spot in the first place.
I recall riding in these in Delhi, where they were popular for taxis (and police cars, VIP civic persons and the like), and even allowing for the novelty and interest in riding in a then 50 year old design, its limitations for contemporary use were obvious. Still, enjoyed it, as I did India – equal parts interest, friendliness and astonishment. Amazing place.
Nice .
That paint is abysmal .
-Nate
That is a super cool little car. I’d love to have one of those. For what I have zero clue!! haha.
Seeing one of these, I instantly think of this classic Peugeot commercial—best use/misuse of a Hindustan Ambassador ever.
That’s a great ad!
Fascinating article – in glancing through the pictures, I took a double-take at the interior shots with 1990’s era fabrics and door panels, wondering “is this the same car?”
And the new body shells ad is incredible.
Also, I had no idea these were sold anywhere other than India.
I crossed paths with the Ambassador in 1971. Even at 11, I knew they were old fashioned, and generations behind the family Fiat 125S.
Super article, and another view of how the British car industry, despite the narcosis setting in at home, inflused much of the developing world through the mid, mid-century.
As usual, I am a bit late to the conversation, but I would like to add my story about a road trip that I took in an Ambassador. I am sure that many residents of India have similar stories, but I think my perspective as a Canadian might be interesting.
At university one of my best friends had recently immigrated from India. When we graduated he went back to India for his first visit in 6 years and he generously invited me and a couple of other friends to go with him. This was in May of 1973 for a six week trip. May and June are summer in India and exceptionally hot (like Phoenix right now). It is not a reasonable time to visit India, but it was an experience. It also meant that we got to experience the arrival of the monsoons in June, which was also amazing.
We started our trip in New Delhi and stayed with one of his aunts and uncles. The family business was quite successful so his relatives were quite well off. It had been founded by his grandfather and was being run by his 4 uncles and his grandfather. The plan was that we would then go from Delhi to Amritsar (about 450 km) to visit some more family and then, because it was summer, continue north into the Himalayas to Srinagar in Kashmir, another 500 km. Kashmir is a magical valley in the Himalayas. In the partition of the Indian subcontinent in 1947 into Pakistan and the Republic of India, the assignment of Kashmir to India was and still is very contentious. We had to go through and internal passport check after leaving Amritsar and I believe that Kashmir is currently (2023) still closed to foreign visitors.
At that time the auto market in India was very regulated in India. In north India the Ambassador was by far the most popular car, and there was a waiting list to buy new ones. In the south Fiat and Standard were also popular. You could not import cars. The only source for imported cars was if a foreign diplomat imported a car, the government auctioned it off when they left India and they were very expensive.
The ambassador was the car of choice in his extended family. I am not sure how many they had in total, but I think there were around 8 (2 per family). His family were getting a new Ambassador and decided to keep the old one while we were there and let us use the new one during our visit. The also supplied us with a driver, which was normal at that time in India. This seemed like a great plan and a very generous offer, but it does not consider the quality of Amabassador manufacturing.
Our visit started in May 1973 in New Delhi, which was very hot. We left Delhi for the all day drive to Amritsar with a stop in Chandigarh for a bit of sightseeing. All went well until mid-afternoon in Ludhiana went the brand new car broke down. Something failed in the rear axle and we were stranded. My friend finally was able to reach his uncle in Amritsar and he came to get us in his mid 60s Ford Fairlane (a rare and expensive imported car) with air conditioning.
After the partition of the subcontinent in 1947 a new road to Srinagar from India was needed as the old main route now led to Pakistan. It is a significant task as Amritsar’s altitude is 218m (715 ft) and Srinagar is 1585 m (5200 ft) and the route goes through the Banihal Pass, altitude 2832 m (9291 ft). By the time we drove the route there had been a tunnel added that lowered the maximum elevation to 2,194 m (7,198 ft). The tunnel was almost 3 km long, without lighting or ventilation, so the air was really bad due to all the Tata diesel trucks. Even by my visit in 1973, it seemed that there was basically no heavy equipment used in road construction, just gangs of labourers, so building such a road was a huge task. The road we rook has since been improved by the addition of some more tunnels.
After the 2 day drive from Amritsar it was amazing to come out of the tunnel into the sunlight and see the valley of Kashmir spread out below us.
I made a total of 4 trips to India over the next 8 years, with made lots of other road trips in Ambassadors, but none were as astounding as the first. On the last trip (!981) my friend’s grandfather had an air conditioned Ambassador, although I did not get a ride in it. One regret is that I never actually got to drive an Ambassador, although if I had asked I am sure they would have been glad to let me. I did get to hot wire one, when a set of keys went missing. It is the only time I have ever had the need or means to do it. I am including one very bad photo of the road.
This is the view coming out of the tunnel. You can see part of the road as it descends to the valley floor.