Tim goes for a sedate ride in an old Austin Hearse, once used on British television shows Last Of The Summer Wine and The Bill, now earning its keep in Wanganui

Last year when I was researching an article on an upright Humber Super Snipe I went with the owner to view one of his other projects at a Wanganui garage. As I got inside, I spied high up on a hoist what appeared to be a grand old English hearse being serviced. Before I could speak, a voice within the garage answered the questions in my head and informed me that this was a local Wanganui hearse, an old Austin, and that it had appeared several times on the popular British television show, Last of the Summer Wine.

Later, I tracked down the grand old hearse at Dempsey & Forrest Ltd, a funeral parlour on Guyton Street, only metres from Wanganui’s famed Cemetery Circuit motorcycle track. Founded as Dempsey & Sons way back in the 1930s, probably near the time that this old Austin rolled off the production line, the company became Dempsey & Forrest in 1974.

Over the years this notable Wanganui firm has operated numerous hearses in its fleet — including American Mercury and Fairlane cars from the Ford stable and, closer to home, hearses from the Holden and Australian Ford range. James Forrest and his father Jim, at the forefront of this family business, sat down one day and started talking about having something a little different to offer in the hearse line. To provide a difference or choice for the customer at the end of their mortal days, several New Zealand funeral parlours were opting for something extremely modern and up to date or something rare and unique.

Hearses over the Internet

James decided to do a bit of research to see what might be on offer around the globe, closing the polished lids on the caskets for the day and tapping away on his computer keyboard to find out more about the international world of hearses via the internet.

A UK company seemed to show some promise of being able to find Dempsey & Forrest something rare. Shortly afterwards a private seller came on line and emailed James about an old 1935 Austin hearse named ‘Agna’ for sale in Lancashire, England. The fact that Agna had starred on popular British television shows added to its charm, and James knew this was the right old charmer for the streets of Wanganui.

The old Austin was duly imported by James. Although it arrived in New Zealand in fine fettle, back in the UK it had spent some years languishing before being brought back from death’s door for television work, with a six year restoration period by TR Petherick Ltd, which had rescued the old dame from an ignominious fate. For a while it was thought that the hearse would be remodelled into an Austin limousine, but the British Austin Ten Drivers Club intervened, requesting that it be kept as close to original as possible for history’s sake.

Agna’s early days were spent working for funeral directors in Gloucester and Newquay before it disappeared around 1977 into the depths of a body shop at Horrabridge for the aforementioned Petherick restoration.

TV star

All the finely crafted hearse woodwork and the original coachbuilders steel plates were saved and polished up, the only thing suffering heavily from the ravages of neglect being the original Austin six-cylinder engine.

Because the original powerplant was worn and seized, and the hearse was going to go into television work, the Austin was repowered with something that will make some purists cringe, but which kept the hearse going in a practical sense — a Land Rover engine, allied to an automatic gearbox. When James first told me this my eyebrows went skyward with surprise, but once I finally got to head out onto the busy streets of Wanganui in the hearse I understood why practicality and ease of acquiring parts had to reign over authenticity.

In every other respect, old Agna is complete and charming!

Not long after the Austin arrived in the country, it was checked over and certified by Grant Rivers at his vehicle tuning business, which just happens to be right next door to the funeral parlour. Grant will be familiar to readers as the owner and driver of a potent Targa and classic racing black Mustang.

TV One News

Upon arrival Agna also made her first Kiwi television appearance, featuring on TV One news as she arrived at her new funeral home.

I looked forward to a jaunt around Wanganui in this TV star, with James at the wheel wearing his dapper funeral director’s suit. Some days, if requested, James will turn out in top hat and tails for a mourning family, but for an ordinary outing with a classic car scribe, any old suit would suit as long as I got my ride in an upright position!

Opening the large front passenger door, I stepped over a shiny silver coachwork plate, that of original coachbuilder, Alpe & Saunders of London W1, and made myself comfortable in leather seat. My son opted to ride at the very back, where seats are positioned at each of the two rear corners for family members to partake in a loved one’s last ride.

Fold-down seats, chromed flower holders on the window ledges and pull-down blinds are all part of Agna’s bespoke interior charm.

Looking ahead through a vertical front window, you are treated to a long expanse of black British steel, with a glass temperature gauge on display atop the chromed radiator shell.
James deftly manoeuvred the big old Austin around Wanganui like the captain of an oil tanker out for a Sunday sail! The engine rumbled away unobtrusively, and the shiny black vehicle cruised along beside the Wanganui river reflected all around, mirror-like in its gleaming bodywork, impish beams of light dancing along its hand crafted chrome roof rack. Thin gold pinstriping along the bodywork and on the wheels set the handsome hearse off nicely.  After seeing my own reflection in Agna’s gleaming panels and bright-work, I reflected on life itself and the serious business of finality and funeral undertaking. Easier perhaps on a sunny Wanganui day to simply admire grand old Agna, and chat with James as he sat back behind the huge steering wheel. One point that James Forrest did want to make was that of the absolute success of Agna. “When we got Agna”, said James eloquently, “we hoped she would attract enough people to, say, account for maybe 20 per cent of funerals, but we have been staggered by the response. Today Agna caters to around 75 to 80 per cent of our business!”

Agna the old 1935 Austin hearse has been first choice these last two years for mourners in Wanganui wanting to send their dearly departed away in a classic fashion. Thanks to Dempsey & Forrest, the last of the summer wine is now sipped in style by those at the sunset of their lives.

Tim travels to Morrinsville to meet a couple waving the ¨‘flying A’ flag for some of the cutest commercial classics ever made

Several years ago when I was collating photos for my book, Utes & Pickups in New Zealand, I heard about a guy in the Waikato who collected everything to do with Austin cars and who was using a rare Austin A35 pick-up as an everyday runner. Both my father, who drives an Austin A40 Farina, and Graham Elstone, who was then racing an Austin A35 in classic car racing, told me I had to catch up with Kevin Heyward. I corresponded with Kevin, who kindly sent me a photograph of his rare little pick-up, but years seemed to lapse before I could actually squeeze in a trip to Morrinsville. By the time I had made the drive from Taranaki to Cambridge and then over the hills to Morrinsville, Kevin and his wife Gaye had acquired yet another Austin A35 to add their collection, which had by now also stretched to an Austin-Healey Sprite and various Austin saloons.

My interest had also been heightened because I had heard that the A35 van the Heywards had just purchased was a van I had seen travelling around Hawera when I was a teenager, a carpentry runabout from Wallis, a cabinetmaker.

Everyman’s Utility

Old Austin adverts for the Austin A35 pick-up read, “The Austin A35 Pickup — Everyman’s utility car,” yet by the time the model was phased out of production, only 475 are known to have been built. However, prototypes and vehicles created from spare bodies post-production could inflate this figure slightly.

Designed through the pen of Argentinean-born Dick Burzi, who was responsible for the whole Austin A30/A35 series of vehicles, the little pick-up was sent all over the planet as part of Austin’s big export drive. Only 241 A35 pick-ups were sold in the UK home market while the rest went overseas, including some in left-hand drive form, to places such as Chile (48 examples), Asia and the Pacific Islands (23), Sudan (nine), Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe, 27), The West Indies (11), Canada (five) and New Zealand (17). Several countries, such as South Africa, Denmark, Gibraltar, Malawi and Kuwait, received less than five of the pick-ups each.

From all this widespread Austin diaspora, by 1992 — from Austin club figures — only 57 Austin A35 pick-ups could still be accounted for. By Kevin Heyward’s reckoning around 11 or 12 are still thought to survive in New Zealand, not all of them currently roadworthy.

The Heywards’ well-travelled pick-up is build number PV87, which was first sent from Britain to Fiji before arriving in New Zealand in 1962. Another came to New Zealand via Rarotonga. Kevin and Gaye’s pick-up from the Suva Trading Company is an unusual version in that it came with pressed doors like the van versions. Fisher Ludlow pressed the bodies and then they were returned to Austin which assembled them. When Kevin bought his now much travelled Austin pick-up it had slightly flared rear guards, an alteration carried out by the vehicle’s previous owner, Bradley’s Towing & Panel of Westmere, which had been using it as a company runabout.

Well travelled

Kevin and Gaye have kept the pick-up in pretty much the same set-up as when it was purchased, and it has served them for many, many kilometres on ‘Flying A’ Austin car club rallies and All British Day events.

As I looked over the well-travelled A35, I ruminated on the low production run of what seemed an appealing or cute little ute. Kevin’s theory is that while the vehicle has its own charm and lovely lines the lack of a tailgate could have been its downfall. “No-one really wanted to buy them,” Kevin said. “It was basically because of the lack of a tailgate — without it the British Government taxed the pick-ups as cars, which were dearer.”

After viewing the pick-up, I noticed an older Austin A30 sitting in a corner of the Heywards’ vast garage.

“That’s a rare AS3 model,” Kevin said, “dating from 1953 — one of the very first to come out to New Zealand. It was the promotional car for Seabrook-Fowlds and only the second one it ever sold. These early ones are identifiable by their internal boot hinges, which proved a poor design in the wet as the way the boot opens water can get in.”

James Hunt’s Everyday Drive

Growing up as a teenager in the late ’70s, I followed Formula One closely during the Lauda/Hunt rivalry era and afterwards followed the lives of my heroes. I was always intrigued that James Hunt used an Austin A35 van as his everyday drive between tending to his caged birds.

I had the late James Hunt in mind as I ventured toward one of the Heywards’ other collectable Austins, the former Wallis Cabinetmakers A35 van — still in working livery from its old Hawera days. I may not be likely to ever pilot a Marlboro-McLaren M23, but as for that other vehicle James Hunt ¨drove with pleasure — an Austin A35 van — well, I was about¨to drive one.

Kevin handed me the keys to the old Wallis van while he and Gaye donned their Austin hats and proceeded to prepare to lead me on a mini-tour of part of Morrinsville. I had driven my parents’ Austin A40 Farina quite a bit, but had never powered off the mark in a precursor A30/35 variant.

Just like the later MkI A40 Farina, the A35s are powered by the famous little Austin A-series engine, in 948cc specification. Farinas rev quite freely right up to about 5000rpm, and even today are peppy, economical and very usable classics. The A35 van proved no different as I gave the little Austin plenty of revs before easing off and following behind Kevin and Gaye, who were packed into the pick-up with all their Austin paraphernalia.

As with the A40 and the old Riley 4/72 I once owned for 20 years, the steering was soft due to the old-style Austin cam and peg set-up, but when you point the little Austin in the direction of a corner, providing its suspension is tight, they will still head where they are supposed to. The chromed flying A proudly situated atop the bonnet, a remembrance of Herbert Austin’s motoring contribution, gives one a gun-sight with which to take aim at the road ahead.

Despite being over 50 years old the A35 was sprightly and powered along with relative gusto, showing occasional minor body roll on bends and an eagerness to perform well within its 4750rpm range. Sucking freely through a Zenith carburettor, the A-series and its 25kW (34bhp) was adequate for motoring along in acceptable fashion, but I did wonder how well the van would perform fully laden with tradesman’s tools or goods. Nonetheless as a usable everyday classic, for going shopping or on Austin rallies, the A35 van would be just fine. A couple would have plenty of room to throw a tent and luggage in the rear while travelling long distance within a tight fuel budget as, according to early road tests, the A35 range returned around 7.4 litres per 100km (38mpg). Back at the Heywards’ Morrinsville abode, where an Austin grille serves as a water feature and diecast Austins park in cabinets, I also managed to take a quick look at the Heywards’ Sprite and a tidy Austin A55.

Austin Disease

“The Austin disease got me,” Kevin said. “I started out learning to drive in an old EIP Vauxhall Wyvern, and the best car I ever owned was actually a Holden — a ’58 FC wagon — but after I bought my son an old AS3 Austin A30 to take to university I found that I liked it too much to let it go, and kept it for myself. From then on it’s just been, well, as I said, a kind of Austin disease!” Kevin then came over all glassy-eyed as he recalled his FC Holden.

“That old FC was an Australian assembled one in a pinkish maroon and cream colour scheme, with chromed wording on the spats and with Venetian blinds — all the Aussie extras! I often wonder where it went, and that Holden is the one car I might give up my whole Austin collection to have again!”

Quite frankly, I’m glad Kevin has had his life directed down the Austin path, because he and Gaye are enthusiastic champions of one of the greatest British motoring marques.

At home in Morrinsville they have a unique collection of Austin memorabilia, and a unique pair of classic 1957 Austin commercials.

Words & Photos: Tim Chadwick

After looking at the history of the Sheerline last month, in part two we examine what it takes to own and restore one of these imposing classic cars.

The owner of our featured car, Damian Lee-Johnson, was quite lucky to find a Sheerline in basically fairly good shape. There are still a few around, though not many are in any sort of regular use. These, and other big cars — Humbers, Armstrong Siddeleys, the big Rovers and the like — all suffered a high mortality rate in the early ’70s when petrol prices began their inexorable rise.

Damian’s Sheerline also has a partially documented history, and an interesting one at that. It was a 1952 car, sold and serviced by Teo Johns Ltd, the Austin agent in Kaitaia in Northland. It was sold to Jim Taaffe, a notable local identity, who had actually been the first Mayor of Kaitaia, and was prominent in many aspects of local life and community service. Damian tells us that the mayor’s “¦phone number was Kaitaia 1 — and his name and that phone number were written on the inside of the car’s hubcaps!”

At that stage of its life the car was painted metallic green, a standard Austin colour for the Sheerline, but after being sold on to another prominent Kaitaia identity, Charlie Huttley, it received its first repaint some time in the late ’60s, this time to a sky blue.

Huttley owned the car for many years and finally sold it on Simon Owen-Smith of Ohaeawai in 1986, for $2400.

Owen-Smith gave the old car its second repaint into its current light grey colour, and re-upholstered its interior. Another long period of ownership passed until current owner Damian Lee-Johnson took over the Sheerline in 2005. Clearly the Austin was a Northland car through and through. For the first 34 years of its life it was based around Kaitaia and later Awanui, where second owner Charlie Huttley ran the Gumdiggers Trading Post.

Even the second change of ownership kept it up north, in Ohaeawai, on State Highway 1 near Kaikohe, over towards the Bay of Islands.

Damian would love to know more of the car’s history, and wonders if any old-time Northland residents can shed any more light on its life and times. It must have been quite a memorable sight on Northland roads, with its size alone big enough to catch the eye, and in the early stages of its life, owned by a couple of local identities in Kaitaia and Awanui, it may even have figured in parades or have been seen on official business.

Refurbishment or restoration?

THE SHEERLINE’S ENGINE AND GEARBOX TOGETHER WEIGH OVER 500KG!

While the Sheerline was a decent runner, it still needed work, and Damian embarked on a major refurbishment. Refurbishment, or restoration? The dividing line is a fluid one — but basically the Austin was still in fairly reasonable shape in 2005, after 53 years of life and three owners. Austin as an independent company always prided itself on the workmanship that went into its cars, and designed them for long working lives, and the Sheerline reflects this old-time approach to car building. “Austin — you can depend on it” was one of the advertising slogans for the Sheerline.

It is a relatively simple car, in terms of the engineering incorporated, though a complicating factor is the sheer size of some of the car’s componentry (the engine and gearbox together weigh over 500kg!). A further problem came from the relatively low production figures for the car, which in turn means spare parts, new or used, are rather hard to find. Damian has found, however, that a small but active coterie of Sheerline and Princess owners have got themselves very well organised for tracking down cars and parts, and just as important, expertise, to help ensure that the number of these big old Austins does not dwindle any further.

Rebuilding the engine

At around 128,744km and 50-plus years old, it was clearly time for new owner Damian to rebuild the engine, though it was still in fair running order. New parts required included a piston set, head gasket, filters and water pump, plus a considerable amount of specialised labour skills, including a rebore, so this was no cheap exercise. Sundry other under-bonnet and associated parts required attention or rebuild, including the radiator. It is interesting to note that despite Austin’s obvious concern to supply adequate cooling water and a big radiator, over the years Sheerline owners have reported a tendency for the cars to run hot, particularly in low-speed work. There is a known weakness in the design of the ‘hot-spot’ system which can corrode and allow hot exhaust gas to get where it shouldn’t, affecting the engine temperature and causing fuel vaporisation issues, but Damian’s newly rebuilt motor has shown no sign of this.

I was surprised to see the Sheerline with a chromed radiator, as most of the Sheerlines I’ve encountered over the years had a body colour painted radiator shell — and most published pictures of the car show this too. Damian has investigated this and has found out that the chrome surround was an alternative factory fitting, more often found on cars sold for formal use. He actually has another chromed radiator as a spare up on the garage wall, so obviously they can’t have been that rare!

THE SHEERLINE HAS THAT OLD-FASHIONED HEAVY CAR QUALITY OF STEAM-ROLLERING BUMPS

In addition to the radiator as noted above, the clutch, fuel systems, and exhaust system all needed work, and the engine mounts too are still awaiting attention. This was the expensive part of the rebuild, consuming around half the total cost so far, and with a bit more to come.

Lift the bonnet tops — one each side, centrally hinged and lockable from inside the car — and a l-o-n-g engine is revealed. It is surmounted by a massive oil bath-type air cleaner assembly, and on the passenger side of the engine, a big (42mm) downdraught Stromberg carburettor provides enough mixture for this big long-stroke six to produce 93kW (125bhp) at 3700rpm, and over 271Nm (200lb/ft) of torque at around 2200rpm. The Princess used a triple SU installation to give an extra 7.5kW, and a total of 287Nm of torque at 2200rpm.

When you fire up the engine it settles to a nice slow idle; engage a gear (first or second) and it pulls away without fuss or need for revs. Second to third gear shifts come in at 32 to 40kph, and up into top gear at around 48kph. Top speed was quoted at around 129 to 137kph (80-85mph), but these days it will cruise quietly and easily at 88 to 96kph, or more if your wallet can handle the fuel bills! A contemporary comment was that the car was perhaps slightly under-geared, with 32.5kph per 1000rpm in top gear, but while this may be so, it has splendid flexibility and pull in top gear. In the ’40s and ’50s, drivers expected their cars to lug well from low engine speeds, and this the Sheerline certainly does; contemporary commentators noted it only really needed second and top gear in normal motoring, with first (unsynchronised) required only once in a flood, and third gear only to give extra passing acceleration.

Surprisingly, considering the age of the car, and its engine power and torque and substantial weight, the transmission did not need too much work at refurbishment time. The clutch required attention, as noted above, but the gearbox and back axle are nonetheless rumbling along. In our test drive, there was a suspicion of gearbox noise — maybe the gearbox mount needing attention — but the gears engaged easily, and the back axle was in no way rowdy.

Running gear — 50 years later

The running gear certainly needed some attention after its 50-plus years of service. Tyres, as you would expect, were an expense. Damian chose to go with 7×16 tyres, a size up on the Sheerline’s original equipment, though this size was fitted on the Princess. He went with original type cross-ply tyres, but apparently the Sheerline works well with big radials — not all cars of this period do. The springs were overhauled generally, the spring bushes were replaced, and the lever-arm hydraulic shock absorbers needed a rebuild, with fresh juice of course. The front wheel bearings were replaced, and the big drum brakes given an overhaul, with rebonded shoes and machined drums, and fresh brake dust covers. At the rear, the handbrake cables were replaced.

Ball joint boots were replaced too, and the total expenditure on the running gear tallied up to around 20 per cent of the total refurbishment cost. Bear in mind that the front end of this car carries a massive amount of weight, and wear and tear is inescapable on a vehicle of this size and type.

The result of the attention to detail in rebuilding the running gear is that the car now runs well, and feels safe and secure on the road. Steering is positive enough, though the car is an understeerer. Braking from normal speeds is entirely adequate to cope with modern traffic, though repeated heavy use could and still would induce fade problems. As with every older car, extra care is needed when driving to foresee traffic situations wherever possible, and the commanding driving position certainly helps with this.

Interior restoration

After its previous owner’s re-upholstery job — alas, with vinyl, not leather as it should have been, though the colour at least is pretty well right — there was not too much to do inside, though one unlooked-for job was removal of a rat’s nest under the rear seat! After that, the rear seat needed a retrim, as you might expect, and the headlining was replaced. The various sealing rubbers were replaced, and a fair amount of work had to go into the dashboard and instruments. The speedo, temperature gauge and clock all needed repair — Smiths Instruments was able to do this — and the splendid Ekco valve radio had to be repaired. This was entrusted to Cedric Sutherland in Tauranga, who did a brilliant job. The reception and sound quality, through speakers at front and rear, was excellent. Incidentally, the complex electrics to power the valve radio are hidden in an under-bonnet compartment.

On the road — 50 years later

Entry to the cabin through wide-opening doors is very easy. The Sheerline has a most impressive ambience inside. There is heaps of room, a flat floor, big seats, nicely matching colours of woodwork, cloth and vinyl/leather, and though the upholstery should really be leather, it still looks and feels the part. The car travels along quietly, with subdued engine noise, and gives a pleasant smooth ride, with an occasional gentle up and down float reminding you that those lever arm hydraulic dampers are having to work pretty hard controlling nearly two tons of motor car’s up-and-down movement. It has that old-fashioned heavy car quality of steam-rollering bumps in the road to barely noticeable proportions. Seats are comfortable and armrests at the centre and sides of the car add that touch of luxury.

The driver sits high, with a commanding view over the long bonnet. The big steering wheel has an incongruously narrow rim — apparently the cellulose acetate from which it was made shrinks over the years! The square instruments in a wooden panel are nicely lit.

The pedals are the older-style type, sprouting from the floor. They give a more comfortable angle of action than most modern pendant pedals. The handbrake is an umbrella handle type centrally located under the dashboard. It needs a long pull, but works well on those well-adjusted brakes.

Damian and his partner say the big car is superb on a long trip, with its easy cruise and comfortable ride. Fuel usage — economy is not really the word — is quite heavy, at 15.6 to 17.6l/100km (16-18mpg) around town, but gentle open road cruising lifts that to over 14.1l/100km (20mpg).

Traditional British

In a modern world where urgency is the norm and speed, and acceleration and swift responses are required in the cut-and-thrust of modern traffic, it is most pleasant to experience again a car from an age when traffic moved slower, comfort ruled, and more relaxed travel was regularly possible. The Sheerline epitomises this era.

Its styling is traditional British, and it has that interior aura of luxury that the British car companies could do rather well, plus acres of space inside. While it feels a big car on the road it is not hard to drive, as it’s not too wide and its edges are well defined, so it’s not difficult to place on the road. The ride is smooth and progress is quiet, and at the right sort of pace (and that is an important factor) it is a very serene and pleasant experience. But not for the wallet, alas — fuel consumption is not a strong suit, so there’s a down side.

Bearing in mind the plus and minus factors in owning and running a car such as this, here at NZCC we applaud the Sheerline’s young owner for his fortitude in undertaking the major refurbishment job required to give this fine old car a new lease of life in a new century. Unfortunately, there is no financial gain in doing this sort of thing — that alas is a Rule One in restoring almost any classic vehicle — but in the case of this car, one can certainly enjoy the feel and style of motoring in the British grand manner, ’50s style!

These cars were range-toppers for Austin from 1947 to 1954 (Sheerline) and on into the ’60s for the Princess, which by that time had become a car for the carriage trade only, whereas the Sheerline was, to some extent, pitched at the comfortably-off owner-driver. Driving appeal was not high on the list of virtues, but easy driving with lots of power to spare, sturdy build, conservative but imposing styling, posh interior and loads of room were all big selling points. It’s interesting to look at some contemporary adverts to check out Austin’s marketing angles.

It is seldom that NZCC writers get the chance to experience British cars of this type — all leather and luxury — that the Brits did rather well just after World War Two. At one time there were still a fair number on our roads — Sheerlines, Armstrong-Siddeleys, big Humbers, Daimlers and others. But these days there are few, as soaring petrol prices in the ’70s meant curtains for many of them.

We were delighted to read of Damian Lee-Johnson’s fine 1952 Sheerline and its life up in Northland in Reader’s Writes (NZCC, June 2006) and took up his invitation to try out his restored Sheerline. We’ll have more on its restoration and how it drives in next month’s issue, but let’s now look back at the Sheerline as it hit the roads in 1947.

Sheerline — big six cylinder engine

The Sheerline was in all probability a pre—World War Two car in conception, though its design began to take shape during the war in about 1942 and was finalised after the war in 1946—7. Austin had always had big cars in their range, to sell to wealthy private owners or official bodies, but before the war those big cars had begun to look quite dated against their opposition. Clearly, new design ideas had to be incorporated, starting with the engine. So, Austin supplanted their old side—valve motor with a slightly changed version of the ohv truck engine introduced just before the war. This had apparently been designed after more than a sidelong glance at GM’s Bedford truck engine and started life in the Sheerline at 3.5-litres, though it was tuned up to give 110bhp — rather more than in the trucks.

However, even 110bhp in the first A110 Sheerlines  — weighty cars at around two tons — proved to be only just up to the job and the D—series engine was quickly bored and stroked out to 3993cc, with a power increase to 125bhp.

Lubrication was well catered for, with a generous oil supply of 17 pints (9.6litres) and full pressure feed to the four main bearing crankshaft. The engine was renowned for long—term durability, as befits a truck engine, and remained in use in BMC car products until 1968, with a 1956 redesign for the DS7 series Princess along the way. It was also used with great success in several Jensen products, including the well—regarded 541 series GT cars.

Cooling was also well organised. Austin were aware that some cars would be used by official bodies for slow processional work, which is notoriously hard on vehicle cooling systems, and also in warm overseas climates. A large—capacity water pump was used, and no less than 28 pints or 15.6 litres of coolant circulated round the engine and through the big radiator.

Transmission

Austin used a four—speed gearbox on the Sheerline, with synchromesh on the top three gears.

First gear ratio was low, but in practice might not have been used all that much, as the big car had torque enough to handle second gear starts with ease. A column gear change was used, with first and second in the plane nearest the driver, and third and fourth away from the driver.

Many four-speed column changes are not good examples of their kind, but Austin’s was one of the better—engineered ones and fairly positive in use.

The rear axle departed from normal Austin practice of the period by using a hypoid bevel final drive instead of their usual spiral bevel units. One may surmise the change was both to lower the drive line slightly, and probably more importantly, to obtain a larger area of tooth contact to transmit the torque of the big six cylinder engine while working hard to move the Sheerline’s near two—ton weight.

Chassis design

A distinctly post—war development was the incorporation of an independent front suspension system to improve the ride and road-holding of Austin’s new big car. It followed the same design style as the system used on the A40 Devon, with a lower semi—trailing wishbone, coil spring, and a triangulated upper link working on a hydraulic lever—arm shock absorber. Everything was on a large scale to carry the front—end weight, as the D—series engine was both long and heavy. The system proved durable in service, though those lever—arm dampers took quite a punishment.

Steering with a 43-foot turning circle and geared at 20 to 1, was by cam and lever, and a big 18-inch steering wheel provided enough leverage to manoeuvre the car, which was generously tyred with 6.50—16 tyres.

Road-holding was not the Sheerline’s strong point; it was always going to understeer, with that heavy engine wanting to take the car straight on, but after some taxing times in the road development stages, Austin finally got the ride/road-holding compromise to work well enough for production.

Rear suspension was by long, semi—elliptic springs, with zinc interleaves and mounted on Silentbloc rubber bushes. Hydraulic dampers at the rear were connected by an anti—roll bar.

Getting adequate braking was also quite an issue while developing the Sheerline for the road. A switch from Girling to Lockheed equipment eventually took care of that problem, and there was little criticism from the press, beyond noting that prolonged heavy use could make the brakes fade — unsurprising with 184 square inches of braking area stopping two tons! They were fine for normal road use.

Body style

There can be no question that Austin was trying to copy the formal or coach-built style of the Bentley and Rolls—Royce market. They were able to have two bites at the cherry at this sort of styling, with in—house Austin stylists working on the Sheerline, while Austin’s coach-building subsidiary Vanden Plas (Austin bought this concern in 1946) worked on the slightly upmarket Princess on the same chassis.

Individual preference dictates peoples’ reactions to the two styles, but to me neither Austin nor VdP quite got it right in comparison to the Bentley MkVI of the same period. Both have something of the ‘razor edge’ style of the time and both had considerable road presence, so certainly the styling can be considered a success on that account. Interestingly, body colour makes quite a difference to the look of these cars, and well done two—tone paint schemes (alas, quite unoriginal, as they were never sold thus) also work well.

The front view is dominated by the imposing radiator and those massive Lucas P100 headlamps. Stage one tuning on these cars was to turn the lamps sideways and the reduced air resistance immediately added several miles-per-hour! From the side, the Sheerline looks good, with a sweeping front wing line. The only part that jars the eye — and not that badly — is the slight downward sweep of the rear side window, and maybe that rear pillar is just a little heavy. My personal take on the question of styling is that Vanden Plas had the top half of the Princess pretty well right, but Austin’s stylists got the bottom half of the Sheerline right, better than the VdP stylists. I must fiddle that up on a computer one day and see what it looks like!

Interior comforts

Inside, it is again mostly a success story. There is  lots of mahogany and contrasting burr walnut, a tidy dashboard, big comfortable seats in a pleasant light brown leather upholstery with matching pile carpets and a good supply of glove boxes, pockets and storage compartments both open and lidded.

There is very good headroom and lots of space for feet and seat! There are neatly fitted fold-away armrests both in the front seat and in the rear and a very impressive valve radio with front and rear speakers — not stereo, of course, in those days.

The rear compartment is discreetly lit from the sides and a Webasto sliding roof was a standard fitting. The steering wheel is a big 18-inch job, height adjustable, with a cellulose acetate covering.

The boot is big, but not gargantuan, with a separate spare wheel compartment stealing a fair amount of space. All external access points ­— bonnet, doors, boot and spare wheel compartment — are separately lockable and the bonnet is locked from inside the car.

Next month we’ll take a closer look at the restoration of a Sheerline. We’ll also look at how it drives on the road, in a world vastly different to the driving conditions for which it was designed.

Sheerline: in the marketplace

When the Sheerline was first introduced, Austin aimed it clearly at the owner-driver who wanted a roomy and well performing car with prestige and luxury; perhaps someone who hankered after a Bentley, but couldn’t afford it! However, its market seemed to subtly shift as the years passed. The Sheerline began to sell more to the carriage trade and companies as executive transport, or for hire. The Sheerline was in the same price league as some slightly smaller cars, with perhaps more driver appeal, from established marques such as AC, Armstrong Siddeley, Citroën Six, Daimler, Jaguar, Lea—Francis and Riley. It was also in direct opposition to Humber’s big Super Snipe, which actually undercut it in price, while offering similar levels of accommodation, luxury, prestige and performance.

The sales figures tell an interesting story. Austin sold between 8500—9000 Sheerlines and rather fewer Princess A135s from 1947 to 1955 (total chassis production was over 15,000 including limos, ambulances and hearses), but Humber managed to move 17,000 Super Snipes between 1948 and 1952, plus nearly 18,000 more Series IV Super Snipes from 1952 to 1957. Jaguar moved over 10,000 Mk Vs and more than 20,000 Mk VIIs, Riley over 13,000 RMB/RMF and Pathfinders, and Armstrong Siddeley nearly 12,500 of its 16 and 18hp sixes. Even Bentley (at well over twice the price) managed to sell 7500 Mk VI and R—type saloons.

Specs

Austin A125 Sheerline

Engine: six cylinder, ohv, 3993cc, bore 87.3mm x stroke 111.1mm

Fuel system: Stromberg d/d carb, 16gallon(72.8l) tank

Transmission: four-speed manual, synchro on two, three and four

Chassis: pressed steel box section

Body: four-door saloon or limousine

Suspension: ifs wishbone/coil with hydraulic lever arm dampers, rear semi—elliptic springs, lever—arm dampers

Steering: cam and lever, 43’ (13.1m) t/circle

Brakes: hydraulic drum

Tyres: 6.40×15 Dunlop RS5

Dimensions

Width: 73″ (1.854M)

Height: 66″ (1.676m)

Length: 192″ (4.887m

Wheelbase: 119.25″ (3.029m)

Weight: 4158lbs (1888kg)

performance

Max speed: 83mph (133.5km/h)

0-60mph: 20.6secs

Economy: c15mpg (18.8l/100km)

Production: 1947—54, estimates vary c8000—9000 built

The Austin Seven was a car for the millions; a miniature conception of a modern tourer that would capture the imagination of everyone who dreamed of becoming a motorist in the ’20s.

Words: Eoin Young Photos: Terry Marshall

The Austin Seven was a scaled-down version of the real thing. It had three-stud wire wheels, the skinny tyres and the advanced design of four-wheel-brakes and room for a big man behind the wheel. It was a vintage version of the tiny affordable Mini that would amaze and excite the motoring world four decades later.

Sir Herbert Austin built over 300,000 of his baby Sevens between model launch in 1922 until 1939, when the Big Seven replaced the cheeky little Chummy. I owned a couple over the years, and drove several more, so I can appreciate the charm of Austin’s idea of motoring for the millions. I would have thought there were more than 300,000 built, but I suppose it just seems like that.

“I’d rather have given the world the Austin Seven, my dear fellow, than have won the Gordon Bennett race for England”

It was an outrageous little car with everything seemingly in miniature, including the miniscule 750cc four-cylinder engine that seemed to be hiding beneath the little bonnet. Everyone of a certain age either started their motoring life with an Austin Seven or owned one at some time in their career. Stories starring the unlikely little gem were legend. Aubrey Parnell flew Spitfires in the RAF and told me how he would leave a half-crown coin on the driver’s seat while he was upstairs at work — and when he returned, his fitter would have filled the tank with avgas.

Early Seven celebrities

Lotus founder Colin Chapman’s first competition car was a modified Austin Seven, and legend has it that this car grew the legend of the Lotus name when it failed to sell at auction, and was left with a label on the rad cap that read: LOT U/S — Lot Unsold — Lotus?

Bruce McLaren started to put his stamp on motor sport with a little Ulster sporting two-seater version of the Austin Seven, and when his international successes in Grand Prix and CanAm sports car racing with his own McLaren cars meant he could move into a splendid new home in a private Surrey park, he commissioned an oil painting. It showed the Earl of March, grandfather of present Goodwood promoter Lord Charles March, at the wheel of the Austin Seven he and SCH ‘Sammy’ Davis shared to win the 500-mile race at Brooklands. It hung in pride of place in his lounge.

SF Edge, the racing stalwart who championed Napier in the early years, won the Gordon Bennett race in 1902, and set a 24-hour record at Brooklands when the track had just opened in 1907. He was a power in the land, and he must have gathered attention when he announced in 1925, two years after the Seven first appeared, “I’d rather have given the world the Austin Seven, my dear fellow, than have won the Gordon Bennett race for England a dozen times over, and in 12 consecutive years. Hang it, you don’t realise what Austin has done. I wonder, indeed, if Austin himself realises what he has done? Ford had a unique market, on his own doorstep, for the Model T, one which had never existed previously and will never exist again. Austin had not. Austin’s case was an instance of that very uncommon phenomenon, a supply creating a demand, and filling it to the last ounce and penny piece.”

Birth of a baby

Herbert Austin was born in Britain in 1866, but spent his formative years in Australia as an engineer working on sheep-shearing machinery for the Wolseley company. He returned to his homeland in his early 30s to design a car for Wolseley, but left after an argument on design principles, and established the Austin Motor Company at Longbridge. Folklore has it that Austin sketched what would become the Austin Seven on the billiard table of his home.

Folklore has it that Austin sketched what would become the Austin Seven on the billiard table of his home

An enthusiastic young motoring man, Arthur Waite, married Austin’s daughter and was eager to go racing with a modified version of the baby Seven soon after its launch. At the Easter Monday Brooklands meeting on March 23, 1923, he was into the record books with a flying mile at 62.64mph (100.8kph). A few weeks later and he was down at the new Monza track in Italy, winning the 750cc class of the Cycle-car Grand Prix. Waite would take a special Seven to Australia and win the first Grand Prix there, run on the Philip Island circuit in 1928, thus boosting sales of the tiny car in the Colonies.

The ‘Ulster’ Austin was named for the Tourist Trophy races on the Ards course in Northern Ireland. Special Austins raced at Brooklands and all over the world, including New Zealand, where George Smith and others would race the ex-works ‘Rubber Duck’, so named because of the chassis flex. I tried to drive this car at Ruapuna, but we couldn’t re-fit the steering wheel once I had squeezed into the cockpit! In the 1930s, the Austin Company became more serious about competition and built the tiny single-seater twin-cams.

First hand experience

I bought my first Austin Seven in the late 1950s when I was a bank clerk in Timaru. In retrospect it was a peculiar little creature, a sort of ‘high chassis’ sports car compared with the ‘low chassis’ Ulsters as raced by my soon-to-be mentor, Bruce McLaren. I regarded it then as a legitimate piece of sporting machinery, and was immensely proud of it despite its lack of brakes. It was probably a case of ignorance having a lot to answer for. Throwing it sideways in moments of stress tended to help retardation. DB Tubbs wrote of the baby’s brakes: “Four-wheel brakes were proudly offered by Sir Herbert a couple of years before they appeared on Rolls-Royce. They were,” he said, “compensated and instantly adjustable.

“All brake parts were interchangeable. There is no doubt about the Seven’s complying with the law, which calls for two independent braking systems, for the back brakes worked by the pedal and the front ones by hand-brake only. Clearly the pedal was regarded as the service brake, for customers were instructed ‘when descending a long hill’ to ‘supplement the action of the foot-brake at intervals by the use of the handbrake for brief periods.’

“By putting the car on to full lock it was possible to jerk the handbrake cable taut on one side, thus causing the car to pirouette. This was occasionally done on purpose. Austin brakes, like those of many Bugattis, were notoriously feeble. And all the time I thought it was me!

Sound history

I remember a Model T trembler coil installed with a spark plug in the muffler down to the side of the passenger’s seat, and when a button on the dashboard was pressed after a few seconds with the choke out, there was a most impressive BANG! that I imagined to be hugely amusing. I bought my Seven from Wally Willmott, who would soon become Bruce McLaren’s racing mechanic, and we would share digs in Britain. Back then he was an apprentice, and I learned later that he had been immensely relieved to sell me the car¦ followed by a period of terminal embarrassment when he remembered that he had welded in the troublesome axle keys, which were always shearing under his enthusiastic driving style.

It had a polished alloy cylinder head and was good for 60mph

Wal remembers buying the car in 1953. “It cost 25 quid. I went halves with my sister and I soon bought her out, because I was always working on it and she never got to drive. The axle keys were a problem when I had the car, as were the rear wheel spokes which would snap with a loud PING! if you cornered too hard. “There were no brakes. The only way to make the Testing Station gauge register at all was to pull hard on the handbrake while pushing on the pedal with both feet. I bolted the seat so far forward that the fat testing manager couldn’t drive, and was happy to allow the owner (me) to perform the braking process.

“It had a polished alloy cylinder head and was good for 60mph, to the horror of my mother, who had always thought it was slow enough to be safe. I had also arranged for a removable floor on the passenger’s side so that, after the spark plug in the muffler ignited the choke-enriched mixture with a loud bang, I would kick out pistons and things to bounce down the road. Then I had to stop and gather them up again for another performance. We used to think that was great, as well as the oil can to squirt engine oil down the vacuum wiper hose to smoke out the girls in the Caroline Bay Milk Bar.” I was often passenger in those antics. I wonder if that made us milk bar cowboys?

Chummy

The original Chummy was effectively a two-seater with nominal seating space in the back. Sir Herbert had planned it that way. The sales catalogue in 1923 stated, “The space at the back of the driver’s seat has intentionally been restricted so that any attempt to overload the car with too many passengers will be militated against by the discomfort attached thereto¦”

The original Chummy was effectively a two-seater with nominal seating space in the back. Sir Herbert had planned it that way

London vintagent Sandy Skinner created what he called ‘The Wooden Austin’, a shapely little two-seater special with a lightweight plywood body. There was a vague suggestion that I would own the car when he had tired of using it in vintage events and as a mildly eccentric road car in London, and I borrowed it for a few days to try in Surrey. We snapped the little car beside a giant American sedan to get everything into perspective.

Our cameo car was on display in a new car dealership in Kerikeri when I discovered it in 1989, and I eventually became its owner. I had a holiday home in Opito Bay miles down a gravel road, so the little Chummy was probably the least practical car to have had in the Bay of Islands. I recall driving it and trying to recapture the fun that I’d enjoyed with the earlier Austin in Timaru during my bank clerk days, but somehow that magic seemed to have dissolved with the years. Maybe I’d become spoilt. It didn’t seem to do anything very well, except act as a magnet for onlookers every time I parked it in the main street. It looked like something out of Enid Blyton.

I eventually trucked the baby blue Austin down to Christchurch, and it was sold by Fazazz to a chap who took it to Singapore. It came back from there and was then bought by a new owner in Christchurch. I know Bruce Miles will be totally captivated with his new acquisition. The Chummy has all the charm of a true vintage car, with the added advantage that fresh air is free and while performance is modest, so are the running costs in this modern day and age.

Tim Chadwick nails his colours to the wall, and looks to see if the time has come to recognise the Austin Princess as a classic

As with many of us, when I was a boy I would collect automotive brochures of new cars from automotive dealerships and swot up on their specifications, and study the pictures intently. Cars were always photographed in various situations to suit their perceived niche or to stir up want and pride of ownership. But nothing prepared me for the day I first viewed the Austin Princess!

Although reared on a diet of late ’60s sci-fi, in which anyone important drove an angular, gull-winged car of the future, the Austin Princess was for me (and many others) a shocking, brave statement on the perceived future of car design. Mechanically the car offered all the best features of the Issigonis-inspired era of the front-wheel-drive saloon car with family comforts that BMC buyers had come to expect from the Austin/ Morris/ Wolseley 1800 range. The wedge shape, however, was totally alien. Quite frankly, you have to look at prototypes of the original Bertone Lancia Stratos or the Aston Martin Bulldog and Lagonda to find anything more wedged and radical — and

Once inside the Princess, and having got over the rudimentary dash and accoutrements, everything is actually quite straightforward

British Leyland was doing it with its top-of-the-range, mid-sized saloons and the TR7 sports car! Code-named ADO (Austin Design Office) 17, the initial Austin Princesses of the 1970s were released in March 1975 as the 18-22 series, the numerals coming from the 1800-2200 engine sizes. By October 1975 the cars had become known as Princess under new badging after British Leyland was nationalised, following its difficulties with unions, management and finances.

Powered by the four-cylinder BMC B-series engine mounted transversely, the Princess cars of this time rode on the solid reputation of the old Austin 1800 family, and the new British Leyland Hydragas suspension that replaced the Issigonis models’ Hydrolastic suspension.

In 1978 the Princesses gained a new O-series engine and added refinements, which were ongoing right through until the model’s demise in 1982. This wasn’t the end of the radical aerodynamic wedge, however, as the final years of the shape saw the Princess reborn with windowed C-pillars as the Austin and Vanden-Plas Ambassador in its native UK. The Vanden-Plas version was fitted with twin versions of that great British mainstay, the SU (Skinners Union) carburettor.

Before the ’80s were over and done, the whole technology of the BMC/SU set-up was well vintage and archaic compared with what was being produced in Europe and, more importantly, in Japan, a country producing cars which had in that decade firmly established themselves as leaders in reliability and functionality.

Here the Austin Princess cars were well marketed, some advertising posters even proclaiming “It’s a Triumph!” with the words of industry below, a catchphrase hoping to lure the owners of the British Triumph saloons — then being phased out by British Leyland — and hopefully adding to the customer base of previous BMC Landcrab owners. Princess cars were manufactured in Nelson at the NZMC (New Zealand Motor Corporation) plant, the first front-wheel-drive cars to be assembled there.

Enter Mr Bean

Our featured Princess belongs to Chris Elliot and Tina Westall of Taranaki Toys, two motoring enthusiasts more commonly known as Mr Bean and Tina. They’re long-standing and popular toy dealers via TradeMe, New Zealand’s online internet-based auction house. Chris’ specialty area is old ephemera and toy motor vehicles — he regularly uses the 1981 Austin Princess on business trips involving the ever expanding nostalgic toy market.

“The old Princess is a great car for what I do because of its large boot, and it stands out,” says Chris with an impish grin. “But I wouldn’t call the Princess a statement car, more of an amusement car, because it’s not so much for making a statement as a bit of a talking point really, among the right people.” What Chris is referring to is the inherent ’70s wedge kitsch value in the now classic Austin Princess.

It doesn’t lack in power, Chris related. “In fact I can drag off Tina’s Honda at the lights¦ until the sweet spot of her car’s VTEC engine kicks in further on.“

“The car has never once let me down,” continues Chris, “although I have found the lack of power steering a bit tough at times, and there’s a bit of a problem the car seems to have with windows misting up on wet days if I’m full of passengers. Perhaps the ventilation is a bit out of date. Having said that, it’s a great car and the steering certainly builds up my muscles.” A chuckle emanates from the toy dealer’s slight frame.

For Chris Elliot the Austin Princess isn’t just a lifestyle choice, but a car that has nostalgic connections — when Chris left school in 1978, in the UK, he first went to work selling Austin Princess cars new at Wadham-Stringer Ltd in Trowbridge, Wiltshire. “These were the first cars I dealt with back in England, and so I think with the Princess it’s been a case of going full circle and connecting with where I first started. We began this new business of Taranaki Toys using the same kind of car that I started my first job with!”

For Mr Bean and Tina the Princess may indeed be a good omen, as their business has expanded and grown beyond pre-loved toys to brand new diecast models and other avenues of collectible goods.

The real test

For me it meant going for my first drive in one of Mr Austin’s wedges and checking things out for myself. Once inside the Princess, and having got over the rudimentary dash and accoutrements, everything is actually quite straightforward. The old Austin makes genuine BMC sounds from days of yore from both the gearbox and the engine bay.

Chris was not wrong when he referred to the heavy steering. Owning a Princess sans power steering, one could easily cancel the gym membership and build real shoulders just negotiating car parks and city streets. Happily, however, I can report that there was no lacking in power from the eager, overhead cam two-litre engine imbibing freely through its single SU. Second gear in particular saw useful revs rise rapidly. It doesn’t lack in power, Chris related. “In fact I can drag off Tina’s Honda at the lights¦ until the sweet spot of her car’s VTEC engine kicks in further on.”

The suspension was adequate by modern standards and the seats also comfortable in a basic way; the vinyl, along with the carpet, looking as though they were lifted straight off the shelves of Triumph remnants, with patterning, carpet texture and colouring pure British Leyland era 2500TC! I felt the brakes were very good, which is probably not surprising as these later Princesses featured the four-pot discs at the front, often sought-after for a variety of classic race car applications.

Provenance

Although the car was first sold through a Hutt Valley dealership, Chris and Tina bought this good example of a Princess off an elderly gent in New Plymouth, who had obviously looked after it. There is a grey metal tag under the bonnet reading ‘GPO’, and it’s also grey-stencilled in the engine bay, so Chris wondered if the Princess started life in the Hutt area as a Government Post Office vehicle (a reader may be able to shed some light on the GPO branding.)

Now, after more than a year of ownership and with business expanding, Mr Bean and Tina are looking to move on to another car, thereby freeing up the Princess to a prospective Austin or 1970s enthusiast. “I’ve enjoyed the Princess,” Chris said, “but it’s time to see it move on to a caring owner who won’t be doing the sort of mileage I’m covering, so we are offering it for sale to an approved owner. We wouldn’t want to see this good example of a rare car wrecked or having its disc brakes robbed.”
Chris has a point really, and it’s for this similar reason that I jumped at the chance to write up an Austin Princess.

After the introduction of cheap Japanese used import cars in the late 1980s, Princesses fell by the wayside in droves and began stacking up with regularity in wreckers’ yards to the point where now you very rarely see an Austin Princess of any sort on our roads, period. The classic enthusiast who wants rarity would have to go for the early Wolseley version with its central grille section (complete with the trademark light-up badging), or the very last of the Vanden-Plas Ambassador versions.

However, quite frankly if you’re looking for a piece of BL ’70s kitsch, now is the time to buy as there are few good ones left; they don’t fetch much of a price; and parts are relatively cheap via the aforementioned wreckers’ yards. They are distinctive cars with looks you cannot escape, whether you like it or not. I’m unsure as to what kind of statement you would be making owning and driving an Austin Princess, but you would be making a big statement of some sort.

Stockpiled Princesses

NZ Motor Corporation, amalgamated from the local assemblers of English Standard Triumph and Morris vehicles, at first found it hard to move the radically styled Princesses. These have been stockpiled on the Nelson wharf probably in 1978, with the windows painted to prevent sun damage to the interiors. (Photo John Miller, originally published in Assembly: NZ Car production 1921-1998, Reed 2002.)

Austin Princess

Engine: Cast-iron four-cylinder
Capacity: 1798cc (1998cc ‘2.0-litre’ from 1979 onwards)
Transmission: Four-speed floor-mounted manual, or automatic
Max power: 65kW (87bhp) @ 5200rpm (2.0-litre 69kW, or 93bhp)
Max torque: 138Nm (102lb/ft) @ 2750rpm
Carburettor: Single SU
Brakes: Four-pot discs at front, drum rear
Notes:
‘HL’ denotes ‘highline’ with vinyl roof and higher specifications. Some 2200cc, six-cylinder, overhead cam models were imported privately; these are outwardly distinguished by trapezoid headlights.
NZ assembly began in December 1978 at Nelson — the 1800 DL model sold for $8695, the HL for $9680 and the HL Auto for $10,153.
In 1980 the Princess R model was introduced in New Zealand with radio, vinyl roof and an up-spec interior. By April 1981 the NZ prices were $11,495 for the 1800 DL, then $12,340 and $12,995 for the other two models.