There’s something entirely lovable about old ‘county’ Austins. The bulbous lines are quite fantastic – like scaled-down Bentleys to my eyes. Again though, they have been rather a blind-spot for me. I’ve driven quite a few Sevens right up to the Ruby, and I have also driven an Austin Ten – which was hard work and not very pleasant. The ‘county’ Austins have passed me by though, and I’ve only driven later Westminsters and Cambridges.

Lovely! I drove it sans trailer tent

Here was my opportunity though – a 1953 A40 Somerset that had been driven to Wales all the way from Southend-on-Sea. I first had to be reminded where the gears were. It’s the same pattern as my old Westminster, but that was a few years ago now. I was impressed. This column-change felt absolutely marvellous. A quick twist of the ignition/headlamp switch – yes, for some reason they are combined – and the engine fired into life. This was actually a 1489cc Wolseley B-Series rather than the 1200cc original. That’s a jump from 42bhp to about 55, enough to get the 0-60mph time down from a laughable (even to a 2CV owner) 36 seconds to something more like 25 at a guess.

Certainly, as I accelerated, enjoying the delicious first gear whine, it felt brisk enough. Not quick by any means, but not too shabby either. It seemed to handle far better than I expected too, with the huge wheel seemingly free of play given the steering box. It felt more positive about the idea of going around a bend than the Westminster did too and while it hardly encouraged you to really chuck it in, it didn’t cause the bottom to clench unwillingly either.

It all left me feeling like a bit of a fraud really. If a 23-year old  can use such a vehicle as daily transport, why haven’t I got anything older than 1986?

The MGB is an absolute icon. The quintessential British sports car. The car that MG sold over half a million of (513, 276 of all types). A car so good that no other two-seater sports car sold as many units until the Mazda MX-5 – which surpassed it in 1999/2000.

The first MGB I drove, an early three-synchro model. Lovely!

It’s also a car that makes fans of other classic cars groan. It’s the one that always gets the prime front cover spot – usually in red – to the cost of pretty much any other classic. It’s seen as a default choice. A sports car for those who aren’t brave enough to go hunting for something different. A beige jacket of a car, not a ‘proper’ sports car. Whatever that means. They point at the feeble performance (105mph top speed, 0-60mph in 13 seconds), the fact that so many parts (engine, suspension basics, switchgear) are borrowed from boring family cars. “How could anything sporting have leaf springs and trunnions?” “How could something so ancient still be on sale in 1980?”

I don’t really get any of that. Sure, an MGB is not the fastest thing ever, nor the keenest when it comes to cornering at speed. But if ancient technology was so bloody awful, why do any of us like classic cars at all? Why do Morgan still sell cars with similar suspension and construction to those built 100 years ago? (albeit with an extra wheel since 1936. Steady on with the upgrades!).

An undeniably pretty car

A lot of the B’s appeal for me comes from the looks. Don Hayter (or is that H8er?) is largely responsible for that and while the B always lacked the seductive curves of the MGA, the neater snout and those delicate rear lines mean the MGB could never be called ugly. Dare I say it, I can even live with the later rubber bumpers even if I do dislike the corresponding rise in ride height – both driven by US Federal requirements.

If the roadster is attractive, the GT is almost more so. Pininfarina helped shape it and while it can’t quite stand up to the eerily beautiful Jaguar E-Type FHC, the GT can at least hold its pretty head high. It works really rather well, even if the rear seat is an absolute joke.  Don’t get me wrong – I won’t dash across a field to look at an MGB, but I’ll appreciate the styling as one drives past. And the bark from the exhaust. They really did manage to make them sound mean and powerful, even if they aren’t.

In terms of driving experience, the MGB feels about as modern as you’d expect. Not at all. The rack-and-pinion steering offers plenty of feel, even with the enormous steering wheel fitted to early Bs, but the ride quality is pretty dismal and if you really chuck it around, the limitations of that leaf-sprung live axle at the back are quickly met. You can still drive very quickly in one without coming unstuck though and have a jolly old time as you do, without necessarily risking your driving licence or frowns of disapproval from other motorists.

Amazingly, you can get them in other colours too

In fact, I’d argue that you can have more fun in an MGB on the open road than you can in an MX-5. Dynamically, Japan is ahead. It really should be having had the benefit of so long to do so. The MX-5 didn’t appear until the B had been dead for nine years and appears to have actually had a development budget. But, to really enjoy an MX-5, you need to go much, much quicker. In the B, I reckon you can have more fun at legal speeds and there’s a fair chance it’ll be less disastrous if you do over-step the mark.

No, I’ll stick with the rustic charm of the MGB please. Power really isn’t everything after all. If it was, I probably wouldn’t drive a Citroen 2CV. For sure, the MGB really isn’t anything special. It doesn’t particularly excel at anything. The thing is though, it doesn’t matter! The only thing that matters is whether driving one is enjoyable. Having driven many over the years, I can honestly say that I’ve enjoyed every one. It is one of those cars that is greater than the sum of its parts. I’m not sure how Abingdon managed it, but I can hand-on-heart tell you that while other cars may be ‘better,’ the B is a car that I hold in pretty high esteem.

Citroen H vans seem to be the new big thing. Sadly, a great many are being turned into ‘quirky’ catering vans. A lot of these just get shipped around and never actually get driven. People claim they’re too slow, heavy and generally just horrible. What’s the actual truth? Given that I drove one over 3000 miles to Sweden and back, I’m fairly well qualified to answer that question, so here goes!

First up, the history bit that The Law Of Writing Stuff dictates I must begin with. The H van was a quite remarkable van launched in 1947 by Citroen. It utilised front-wheel drive and monocoque construction with Torsion Bar suspension, just like a Traction Avant. In short, that means it has no chassis. It really is a box with some wheels and a drivetrain stuck on the front. A subframe holds the engine, front suspension and steering, with four large bolts holding it in place. This was revolutionary for the time. The main benefit is a seriously low floor in the back. It’s an easy step up, which is why the H van has been very popular for years as a camper. People up to about 5’8” can stand up in one with no need for a roof extension too.

Is an H van hard to drive?

The engine sits in front of a three-speed gearbox – engineering largely borrowed from the Traction Avant. The panels are lightweight and ribbed for greater strength – and a rather marvellous aesthetic. Early ones had a split windscreen and all had ‘suicide’ front doors, with the hinges on the rear. Well, ok. All but later ones for the Dutch market who deemed the original design a bit dangerous. They may have a point. I have heard tales of people falling out on the move…

Low floor is great. Yes, that is a piano in the back

Two wheelbases were available, and various overhangs. Coachbuilders also built their own specials. Three were built in right-hand drive form to test the UK market but they were a bit too unusual. Engines were a 1628cc or 1911cc petrol (with aluminium cylinder head from 1963 and 58bhp at most) or a rather feeble and noisy diesel. Amazingly, production did not end until 1981!

Driving an H Van

Clambering aboard is interesting, especially with suicide doors. There’s a handle near the windscreen to aid your entry. You sit right on top of the front wheel, rather like a Volkswagen Type 2. That means you sit quite high up, with a commanding view of the road. A button starts the engine once the ignition has been switched on and it’s quite noisy! That’s because it sits between your feet and those of your passenger, with just a thin, steel cover over it which is easily removed for maintenance. An H van is loud! Smothering the cover in sound-deadening is definitely a good idea.

Commanding driving position, here on a big bridge in Denmark

Now you must get to grips with the gearchange. The lever is very heavy but precise. The shift pattern is back to front though. First is away from you and back, second towards and forwards, with third back from there. Reverse is opposite first so you need to get it right! The gearing is short, so you don’t need to slip the clutch much, but will quickly find yourself needing to change into second. You’ll soon be in third, which is good from about 25mph upwards. This means you don’t often have to change down. Don’t bother changing gear if approaching a clear roundabout, just keep going!

That’s probably a good idea, as the brakes take a good shove. A lot of people complain that H van brakes are rubbish. No, they’re not. They DO require a good shove, but an H van is capable of stopping briskly if you need to – as long as the brakes are well set-adjusted. Indeed, with no load, it’s very easy to lock the rear wheels.

You don’t really need to slow down though. Despite being a design that’s been around for longer than a Morris Minor, the H van handles like a big Mini! The steering is heavy, but wonderful. It’s so direct and you quite easily find that your crockery is on danger if you’ve got a camper.

The biggest problem is that gearing though. 50mph is hard work, as the engine is revving very high. 60mph is just about possible, but Motorhead is quieter. Even if you stick your head next to an amp. It’s hardly relaxing and the day we drove 288 miles in Germany is one of the toughest things my wife and I have ever done! I must confess that those who ship their catering vans to events may do so to protect their hearing.

Front-wheel drive secret to H van success

But, you need to accept that an H is an old vehicle. Yes, it will be challenging at times, but they have a truly marvellous charm about them. They were never designed for gallivanting all around Europe. It’s frankly amazing that they do so in their stride, albeit a rather noisy stride. Mechanically, we had no troubles at all on our trip other than a slightly noisy driveshaft. When we flattened the battery at a campsite, I just started it on the handle.

So there you have it. Unsurprisingly, what was revolutionary in 1947 is perhaps hard work today. The fact that it remained in production so long just demonstrates how long it took the world to catch up though. Even in 1981, most vans were still rear-wheel drive with leaf springs. It’s only in the past 20 or so years that the H van formula of front-wheel drive has really caught on. How ahead of the game is that?

I seem to have a real problem. I just can’t drive the 2CV slowly!

I covered a good 100 miles in the 2CV yesterday, attending the excellent Welshpool Air Show. I overtook a few cars on the way there, including a lovely Morris Minor Convertible. All overtakes remained legal, as the 2CV is scarcely powerful enough to break the National Speed Limit.

Yesterday looked a lot like this

On the way home, I found myself ‘stuck’ behind the worst kind of driver. The one who is unpredictable, slowing harshly and far too much for bends, then accelerating up to the speed limit on the straights so there’s no chance for a feeble 2CV to overtake. I started to get wound up. Even though we were averaging 50mph, I wanted to go faster! Moderns blasted past, able to rely on sheer grunt to get ahead – not an option for a 2CV battling a headwind. Overtaking needs plenty of planning and a good run up!

After many miles, I finally managed to get by, only to find myself stuck behind a car that was even slower. This hardly seemed fair. I spotted a gap and went for it. As I drew alongside the car, I could see that the gap was not big enough. I’d failed to consider the impact of gravity as we drove up a slight incline – me on the wrong side of the road. I decided to commit, with the 2CV in third gear and the valvegear threatening to go flying through the front wings. The car coming the other way was thankfully not moving overly quickly, but did have to ease off. I waved an apology and was away.

Looking back, I’m struggling to justify my actions. I wasn’t in a rush and the views are epic, so I could have just sat back, relaxed and enjoyed them. There’s a problem though. I hate driving the 2CV slowly! I think I see it as a responsibility to prove that the 2CV is not really that slow. Several times though, I found myself cornering with a little too much speed as I aimed to tread the fine line between conserving as much momentum as safely possible (because speeding up again takes so long) and not driving like a twat. I rather feel I overstepped the mark several times. Apologies if I alarmed you…

An artist’s impression of yesterday (taken years ago, not in Wales)

I think I desperately need a longer drive in the 2CV. When I undertake a long trip, I do ease off, because the stress of keeping the 2CV at maximum hoon is absolutely exhausting. Not that my cruise pace is that slow – I’ll still do my damnedest to attain the limit, but I’m in less of a hurry to overtake and more prepared to sit back at a cruise if traffic levels dictate it.

The real issue here is more simple though. The 2CV is too much fun to drive – something most so-called petrolheads have never really acknowledged, because Top Gear told them 2CVs were crap and anything with less than a zillion horsepower is embarrassingly feeble. Yesterday reminded me that on Welsh A and B roads, you’ll struggle to have more fun in anything other than a 2CV. More power might help with the overtakes, but you won’t be able to drive ‘foot-to-the-floor’ like I did.

So, I’m going to blame the 2CV for me driving in such a poor manner. It really wasn’t my fault.