Penn has his view on the importance of originality reinforced by an 80-year-old car with a totally traceable three-owner history

Warwick Orr has been a friend for quite a few years. We share several common interests, ranging from a taste for whiskey (in moderation, of course) to old cars and the quiet enjoyment of living in this pleasant country.

For years he’s been looking after a Douglas motorcycle — with a horizontally-opposed engine — which I’ve been trying to prise off him, and a lovely old 1925 Rover 9 Tourer; an amazingly original one. I never expected to see this Rover back on the road, but now that it is I’m in hopes that the consequential trials and tribulations of that achievement have cured Warwick of restorations; enough to pass the bike on to me.

Probably not though, he’s a right tight one. In 1983 he bought this Rover off well-known vintage buff, John Stewart, who had bought it in 1970, rescuing it from a prison cell of a garage in Remuera, where its then owner had locked it away in 1932. A significant year in world history, my parents took delivery of a new model McKay in 1932, and the advent of the Great Depression in that same year considerably affected their lives, and mine as a result.

Incarceration

This little Rover 9’s incarceration was reputedly directly as a result of that same depression. The owner was deeply affected by it all, and said that such luxuries as seven-year old Rover 9s could no longer be justified amidst such an economic catastrophe — not even in Remuera. So, the little car — in excellent order — was driven into the garage and a timber beam nailed across the door, 28,000 recorded miles (45,060km) showing on the clock. It’s possible of course that the owner may not have been affected so much by the depression, as expressing his own state of mind at that time.

That state of mind seemed to stay with him long after times had improved. The car stayed locked up throughout the ’30s, then the ’40s when Herr Hitler sponsored the event that put everybody back to work again. It stayed there throughout the busy ’50s and the wild ’60s and outlasted the owner, who had sent away all prospective purchasers with the proverbial earful of fleas — so it slowly gained a reputation and entered the realm of mythology.

Resurrection

The owner was eventually returned to manufacturer, leaving a widow who was made of more realistic materials. She allowed John Stewart to collect the car in 1970, and he took it home where the Rover joined his fleet of choice vintage cars. The motor was easily fired up thanks to a new magneto and armature — and with a new set of tyres the car was still driveable 40 years on. Interestingly, the original battery was given an overnight charge and was found to be perfectly functional.

The Rover 9 was a classic case of a car that would be a real shame to restore, such was the glorious perfection of its vintage patina. So, John kept it pretty much as it was until he bought a 1926 Bentley 3.0-litre and needed the space. Enter the Rover’s third owner, my friend Warwick Orr, who bought it in 1983. He drove it home over the Harbour Bridge where the hood blew out, much to Warwick’s chagrin.

Warwick’s intentions, like the car’s registration, had to go on hold as he entered one of those phases in life where the waves are high and life is so real that you haven’t the time required for living it as a gentleman should. He had lived and worked in England and in Australia, had a divorce — maybe a couple, he can’t recall — and for many years enjoyed the rearing of a well-loved daughter, Nicky.

Which is where life caught up again with the little Rover, because Nicky and her partner (who designed my Wendy House) decided to tie the knot and, getting all-over romantic, expressed a wish to be taken to the wedding in the Rover 9. Warwick, being the devoted father that he is, then had to accelerate his restoration of a couple of decades, with about two months to finish it! Fortunately he’s a mechanic by trade, although it’s so long since he practiced his trade that it’s very fortunate this car is early-primitive. How many mechanics today could deal with the niceties of magneto ignition?

Bernie Beckett, well-known trimmer of vintage and hot rod cars, did a superb job of the leather seats which look ‘factory’ — he had the originals to model from, of course, and similarly the top. Actually, years ago Bernie trimmed one of my Sunbeams before he retreated to the wilds of Albany (this was before the masses moved in) and I lost touch. He’s an excellent trimmer — if a little grumpy. Paintwork is by Mel of North Shore Car Painters, proving it’s still possible to get a good coat of paint for a reasonable price. Mind you, if you’re working for Orr (or McKay) you have to be in starvation mode.

On the road

Although the Rover is complete, she’s a long way from being ‘sorted’ and the ferocious original clutch, combined with the three dogtooth pinions, makes for a hairy trip through the cogs. Once cruising, though, it was very pleasant if a little wandery. Quite torquey too, for such a small motor.

We didn’t think a trip to Wellington offered much enticement at this stage, but that might simply reflect my aging process. Warwick’s a persistent bloke and I’m sure the car’s little quirks will be ironed out. Every freshly rebuilt car has a period of ‘sorting’ to be gone through before it will provide a relaxing drive, and this’ll be no different. It’s great to see this old girl back on the road, having outlasted all those lonely years locked away in the dark — for me, it’s what old cars are all about.

Rover 9 Statistics

Engine: Water-cooled four-cylinder, in-line, cast-iron block and head, Duralium rods, cast-iron pistons originally — now alloy — magneto ignition
Capacity: 1075cc
Valves: ohv
Transmission: Three-speed crash ’box, worm drive differential
Suspension: Quarter elliptic cantilever springs all round, no shock absorbers

The Rover Marque

The Rover marque has always been an up-market brand in the UK, being the special preserve of the middle classes — doctors, lawyers and similar — those most frequently concerned with respectability through achievement. The upper classes — car dealers, builders, Targa Promoters and small-time politicians — went a stage further to the ostentatious; Bentleys, Harley Davidsons, Rolls-Royces, Lagondas and so on. So Rover has always been the epitome of sound conservatism.
In 1925 Rover had made a fairly advanced technical move, paradoxically typical of overtly conservative Rover. It used an overhead valve configuration, albeit still typically British in that it was hardly an example of real power. John Stewart told me the Australians call this car the Rover 8-1/2 because there are no front brakes. Personally I can’t imagine this dwarf motoring through the vastness of Australia. This model was preceded by the Rover 8 — with a twin cylinder air-cooled motor! I’ve had two Rover P6Bs and loved them — still do — for my money they were the best cars Rover ever made, and damned near the real ‘best of British’.

The Provenance

There are some interesting stories about this car’s first owner and his obsessional behaviour. He was from those golden days when men ran everything, and as a consequence the world was a much more settled place. It appears that he had a wife who was relieved of all responsibility for decisions by his edicts — she was allowed to attend films once a month, and the shops once a week. The only visitor allowed was the family doctor.
Fitness was taken care of; she got to mow the lawns with a push-mower. Here at Castle McKay, as I type this, I’m reassured to hear my woman mowing her acre of lawn with our walk-behind Victor (spoilt, it appears). Mowing does keep a woman in good condition.
John Stewart met the first owner’s wife when he collected the car in 1983, and was very taken with her as a bright, breezy and interesting person. Her husband hadn’t believed in fripperies, and John well remembers their very baronial home in Remuera as being uncarpeted and without any sort of modern technology. To the chagrin, no doubt, of Hill & Stewart there was a total lack of electrical appliances. Even after WWII, when refrigerators were commonplace, they still used an old-fashioned food safe with each of its four legs sitting in a jar of water to keep the ants out.
Maybe this explains, partly, the state of mind that led him to locking up this Rover for 38 years — perhaps it ignored some edict of his?
There were many casualties of the Great Depression. My own father never forgot the terrible lessons learned, and passed them on to me. They have influenced my own progress through life — my first wife will bear witness to that, although she was never denied any labour-saving devices.
Maybe this first owner became unbalanced by this searing experience. If so, he left us a little time capsule in this virtually original 80-year-old car.