Slainte
Donation Time
Welcome to April!
Happily, my Alpine was chosen as this month’s calendar car. A number of club members have expressed curiosity about the image. (“What the…?!” has been the most common question.), so I've included a reference shot to provide context.
As I expect you’ve guessed, this is one of the three “Swan Song” concept cars, produced by Rootes - kind of - during the early spring of 1967. For the few who may not know the story, William Rootes’ twin daughters, Beatrix and Desdemona (“Des”), were miffed that Daddy and Uncle Reggie had sold the family company out from under them, and to a batch of Americans, at that. They were particularly fond of the little Alpines, and couldn’t bear the thought of ending the family’s wheeled heritage. The girls devised a way to finance a spinoff project with their trust funds, but pesky patent and copyright laws stood in their path.
They solved their problem by hiring renowned designer and family friend William Garden to re-imagine the Alpine for a new generation. That Garden was known for designing tugboats and sailing vessels was, apparently, not an issue. Cosmetic changes were made here and there to satisfy the lawyers, but Garden made significant modifications elsewhere in the vehicle, too. Motive power came from twin British Seagull Longshafts, mounted transversely. The fore and aft skirts were a nod to both nautical good looks, and to the Alpine’s stunning Index of Thermal Efficiency victory at Le Mans. However, the skirts presented an obvious steering problem, which Garden solved by installing bow thrusters in the front valance. It was the first time this technology had been applied in the automotive industry. The thrusters worked like champs, but they tended to blow cyclists and smaller MG and Austin products off the road during “spirited” steering. Also, the heavy compressors took up most of the boot, and threw off the car’s refined balance.
Sadly, as is often the case with innovative undertakings, the end came abruptly. Only three of the cars were completed - two of ferro cement, and one of graphene - before Beatrix married an Italian fig tycoon and lost interest in the project. Des entered a convent outside of Inverness, and the rekindling of the Series Alpine drifted into the history books. (If you get the chance, read Percival Cheshire-Barf’s brilliant essay, “The Alpine Who Never Was”. Riveting.)
My history with the car is unremarkabe. I purchased it from a private party in 1972, for $750 and a case of canned haggis. It was the graphene version. Electrolysis took down the other two, or so I hear. I let the car go just last month to an excitable fellow from Buenos Aires. He thought he might drop in a V8 next summer, but he had to think about it first .
Have a great April!
Happily, my Alpine was chosen as this month’s calendar car. A number of club members have expressed curiosity about the image. (“What the…?!” has been the most common question.), so I've included a reference shot to provide context.
As I expect you’ve guessed, this is one of the three “Swan Song” concept cars, produced by Rootes - kind of - during the early spring of 1967. For the few who may not know the story, William Rootes’ twin daughters, Beatrix and Desdemona (“Des”), were miffed that Daddy and Uncle Reggie had sold the family company out from under them, and to a batch of Americans, at that. They were particularly fond of the little Alpines, and couldn’t bear the thought of ending the family’s wheeled heritage. The girls devised a way to finance a spinoff project with their trust funds, but pesky patent and copyright laws stood in their path.
They solved their problem by hiring renowned designer and family friend William Garden to re-imagine the Alpine for a new generation. That Garden was known for designing tugboats and sailing vessels was, apparently, not an issue. Cosmetic changes were made here and there to satisfy the lawyers, but Garden made significant modifications elsewhere in the vehicle, too. Motive power came from twin British Seagull Longshafts, mounted transversely. The fore and aft skirts were a nod to both nautical good looks, and to the Alpine’s stunning Index of Thermal Efficiency victory at Le Mans. However, the skirts presented an obvious steering problem, which Garden solved by installing bow thrusters in the front valance. It was the first time this technology had been applied in the automotive industry. The thrusters worked like champs, but they tended to blow cyclists and smaller MG and Austin products off the road during “spirited” steering. Also, the heavy compressors took up most of the boot, and threw off the car’s refined balance.
Sadly, as is often the case with innovative undertakings, the end came abruptly. Only three of the cars were completed - two of ferro cement, and one of graphene - before Beatrix married an Italian fig tycoon and lost interest in the project. Des entered a convent outside of Inverness, and the rekindling of the Series Alpine drifted into the history books. (If you get the chance, read Percival Cheshire-Barf’s brilliant essay, “The Alpine Who Never Was”. Riveting.)
My history with the car is unremarkabe. I purchased it from a private party in 1972, for $750 and a case of canned haggis. It was the graphene version. Electrolysis took down the other two, or so I hear. I let the car go just last month to an excitable fellow from Buenos Aires. He thought he might drop in a V8 next summer, but he had to think about it first .
Have a great April!
