The Poached Egg

The Morris Minor.

A design classic and yet it may not have been built at all.

The founder of the Morris Motor Group, Lord Nuffield, did not like the prototype of Alec Issigonis, likening it to a "Poached Egg" and it was only after close to 1.3 million Minors had rolled off the production line between 1948 and 1972  that appropriate thanks were forthcoming between boss and employee.

There were last minute alterations to the design, more from aesthetics in the keen eye of Issigonis than on the grounds of cost or to assist on the production line. One was quite extreme involving cutting the prototype in half and widening it by some four inches with fairly extreme surgery. The stock of bumpers for the initial run of cars had already been manufactured and had to have a welded section inserted to fit the chunkier body shape.

Originally named The Mosquito, the model became the first British marque to reach the 1 million figure and was seen to epitomise the dynamic home grown car industry until a combination of labour issues, poor styling and intense competition from imports eventually killed off mass production.

My father was the proud owner and keeper of a 1958 Morris Minor Convertible in its original olive green paintwork and grey retractable soft top. It arrived in our family just before I was born in 1963. I remember clearly many trips out in the car, registration 798 CPP, often far exceeding the safe capacity including on birthdays up to 8 children on the back seat or wedged in the boot.

I learned to drive in it, my Father very nervously poised to pull on the handbrake or wrestle the steering wheel out of my hands if necessary.

It was gutted by fire when a garage owner, leaning in through the window, caused the interior to ignite with ash from his pipe or cigarette but phoenix-like it was returned to its former glory.

A highlight for me was going with my father in the Minor to Donington Park in the East Midlands for a huge owners rally with hundreds of vehicles on display. It is a sight that I recall with great clarity and indeed will never forget.

Our beloved family car was sold to an enthusiast after my Father died in 2011 and I am happy to report that the Minor has undergone another overhaul and with photographs provided by the new owners it looks fantastic.

Amongst the Donington display cars were a few one-offs, customised, hot-rodded and with one assembled wholly from individually sourced parts complete with Unipart stickers.

One notable edition, or rather 350 of a limited issue, was in a very distinctive lilac colour with white leather interior and black carpets.

These were specially manufactured in 1961 to celebrate the 1 million landmark.

The cars were distributed to each of the 320 BMC garages in the UK and the remainder were exported to overseas markets. The Morris Minor Owners Club register indicates that 65 of the Millions Edition remain on the road out of about 5500 and a further 2193 under Statutory Off Road Notices (SORN) survivors.

The model appealed to a very wide market although a few stereotypes of owners have persisted of midwives, vicars, bearded professors and the police. As well as the attractive styling, something quite different for the post war like the VW Beetle, it was a car that could be run and maintained quite cheaply.

My Father was often only to be identified by the soles of his shoes sticking out from under the chassis as he changed the oil, patched up the exhaust of checked (regularly) for signs of corrosion. My Brother in Law, Andy, owned a yellow Morris Minor when first courting my sister and I remember his streetside repair sessions as part of a weekend visit.

Any drive out in our Minor was an enjoyable experience.

Unlike modern cars which cocoon and pamper their occupants there was a real sensory exposure from the farting sound of the 948cc engine to a strong petrol smell, a slow working heater to dodgy hinged quarter-light windows, a deafening road noise and uncomfortable upholstery.

These golden days of motoring are sorely missed.