Torque talk 2026

by Lee Jones

Now we all know that some of our Haddenham Classics members have a love of watches! Among the many rituals of classic motoring – the careful warming of an engine, the quiet prayer as you turn the key, the universal understanding that a Saturday morning meet should involve coffee and a butty – there is another tradition that has accompanied us car enthusiasts for more than a century – the mechanical watch.

Cars and watches, it would appear, share a remarkably natural partnership. Some say that both are arguably feats of engineering built around springs, gears and tolerances, measured with extraordinary precision. A well-built engine and the equally well-built chronograph operate on essentially the same principles – controlled mechanical energy, translated into some sort of motion.

It is hardly surprising, therefore, that the two worlds have become culturally intertwined. For decades, motoring magazines such as Motor Sport placed watch advertisements alongside road tests of grand tourers and race reports from Le Mans or Monza. My late father had a collection of just such magazines, and I remember reading them in the late 70s. To this day, I still remember the adverts – mostly cigarettes and watches. It’s a wonder then that I did not grow up a time-obsessed chain smoker!

Over time, the watch became more than an accessory for drivers. It became part of the identity of the wealthy enthusiast.

Motorsport's first timekeepers

Long before watches were a thing, they were actually essential tools in the world of motorsport. Early racing required accurate timing. As the stakes got higher, lap records, rally stages, and endurance events were often decided by seconds. Reliable chronographs were therefore indispensable to race organisers and officials.

Swiss watchmakers stepped naturally into this role. Companies such as Longines and Heuer produced precision stopwatches used at circuits and rallies across Europe. Race officials would stand in wooden timing towers, with clipboard and mechanical timers in hand, recording lap times with the satisfying click of a chronograph pusher.

Rally navigators relied on the same technology when calculating average speeds across mountain passes or unpaved stages. In these early decades, the chronograph was not a decorative instrument the size of Big Ben strapped to your wrist – it was an instrument of competition.

Enthusiasts of the day, reading race reports in magazines, quickly recognised the symbolism. A chronograph represented accuracy, professionalism, and technical credibility. Wearing one suggested a connection, however distant, to the world of motorsport.

Selling the motoring gentleman

By the 1950s and 1960s, motorsport had become glamorous. Racing drivers such as Graham Hill and Jackie Stewart were no longer simply competitors. They were cultural icons. Helmets, goggles, leather gloves and purposeful chronographs combined to create a visual identity that advertising agencies quickly recognised. Ker-ching!

In the modern era, one of the most obvious partnerships has been between Breitling and Bentley. Their collaboration, formalised in the early 2000s, rests on shared values – bold design, engineering complexity and unapologetic luxury. A Bentley dashboard with polished metal instruments looks entirely at home beside a Breitling chronograph. Both favour substantial proportions. Neither brand has ever been accused of understatement.

Advertising imagery, therefore, often depicts sweeping grand tourers, leather interiors and aviation-inspired watch dials. The watch becomes an extension of the car – a wearable symbol of mechanical indulgence. 

For readers of classic car magazines the pairing makes perfect sense. (Hmm, I have a 1994 Bentley and a £40 second hand Rotary chronograph – not sure what that says about me, but it probably rhymes with leap.)

The Heuer moment – motorsport meets cinema

If Breitling represents grand touring luxury, TAG Heuer represents racing authenticity.

During the 1960s and 1970s Heuer chronographs were common sights throughout the motorsport paddock. Drivers and mechanics wore them because they were practical, durable, precise, and they were paid to.

The defining cultural moment for the brand arrived through cinema. In 1971 Steve McQueen starred in the film Le Mans, portraying an endurance racing driver competing in the legendary 24-hour race. McQueen wore a Heuer Monaco chronograph – reportedly because the professional racing driver Jo Siffert, who advised on the film, wore one himself. I like to think it was because Stevie Boy was considerably richer and cooler than thou, so not one to be out shone, he brought one. 

Seriously though, the choice was probably not a carefully orchestrated marketing decision. It was simply authentic. Yet the effect was remarkable. The square-cased Monaco became inseparable from McQueen’s cool and understated persona. Even today, enthusiasts associate the watch with Gulf-liveried racing cars and the drama of endurance racing. It remains one of the most effective pieces of accidental product placement in motoring history.

Rolex and the prestige of victory

While Heuer built credibility through racing involvement, Rolex pursued a slightly different strategy – prestige through association.

Rolex watches appeared in contexts linked to success. Podiums, endurance races and celebrated drivers became part of the brand narrative. The Cosmograph Daytona in particular became synonymous with motorsport achievement in the same way the Submariner became synonymous with deep sea diving and macho men.

Collectors often mention the famous ‘Paul Newman Daytona’. The actor and racing driver wore the model for many years and his personal watch eventually sold for a record breaking $17.8 million at auction.

Rolex marketing has always been notably restrained in my humble opinion. Rather than emphasising speed or adrenaline, it focuses on achievement and longevity. The watch is presented not merely as a timing instrument but as a symbol of accomplishment. For the enthusiast, perhaps the implication is clear – win something significant and a Rolex belongs on the wrist.

Lincoln, Cartier and the luxury driver

Not every watch and car pairing revolves around racing though. In mid-century America, luxury motoring had a very different character. The driver of a Lincoln in the 1970s was not necessarily chasing lap records. He was cruising boulevards in remarkable comfort. For that audience then, the refined watches of Cartier were the perfect companion.

The Cartier Tank (never has a name fitted so well), originally introduced in 1917, possessed a quiet elegance suited to tailored suits and chrome-laden American automobiles. It represented sophistication rather than speed. 

But this contrast reveals something interesting about watch marketing. Swiss chronographs emphasised performance and engineering, while Cartier emphasised refinement and social style. Both approaches appealed to the same aspiration – the motor car and the watch together formed part of the gentleman driver’s personal identity.

The modern clubhouse – now on WhatsApp

Today the tradition continues in ways earlier enthusiasts could never have imagined. Classic car clubs once gathered mainly in pub car parks or at Saturday morning meets. Now the conversation continues online as well.

Within enthusiast communities, such as our very own Haddenham Classics, the mere mention of a watch can spark surprisingly animated debate. Someone posts a photograph of a newly acquired chronograph and within minutes the conversation begins. Soon there are photographs of all sorts of watches, comparisons of movements and the inevitable debate over service costs.

Interestingly the service cost of a mechanical watch can sometimes resemble the annual maintenance bill of a classic car! Owners tend to take this observation in good humour.

What these conversations demonstrate though is simple. Watches and cars provoke the same curiosity. Boys with their toys enjoy discussing them, comparing them and occasionally defending them with the enthusiasm usually reserved for football.

But where are the women?

There is an obvious imbalance in the long history of watch and motoring marketing. For most of the twentieth century, advertising targeted male buyers almost exclusively. Drivers in magazine advertisements were male, watches were as large as a sun dial, and the narrative focused on masculine adventure. 

Yet women have been involved in motoring since the earliest days, yes I know that will come as a surprise to some of you blokes. Early racing pioneer, Dorothy Levitt, even advised drivers to carry a watch to monitor time and speed in her 1909 guide to motoring.

I think the industry then simply chose to present watches differently. Men’s watches were marketed as instruments. Women’s watches were marketed as jewellery. Fortunately that distinction has been fading.

Many modern female enthusiasts simply wear the same sports chronographs as everyone else. Mechanical engineering, after all, is not particularly concerned with gender.

That said, there are occasional humorous reminders that watch sizes have grown rather ambitious in recent years. Some modern chronographs are substantial enough to rival small grandfather clocks. One could easily imagine a club photograph of an enthusiast proudly wearing an enormous Omega chronograph while jokingly struggling to lift their arm under the weight. If nothing else, it would demonstrate that enthusiasm for mechanical objects transcends demographics – even if watch dimensions occasionally approach the scale of gangster Range Rover 23 inch rims.

Why the connection endures

Ultimately the connection between watches and classic cars goes far beyond marketing. Both objects represent an era when engineering was tangible and visible. Mechanical chronographs tick with springs and gears. Classic engines breathe through carburettors and cams. Neither is strictly necessary in a digital world, yet both remain immensely satisfying. It’s a little like striped lawns and that reassuring feeling you get when flying back from Benidorm and strap yourself in the old bird to be greeted by the clipped tones of the English pilot telling you he’ll have you home in a jiffy, despite the raging storm.

Slip behind the wheel of a classic sports car, glance at the time on a mechanical watch, and the relationship feels entirely natural if you are loaded. Two pieces of engineering. Two mechanical companions. Both quietly doing their jobs while reminding us that the passage of time can be something to enjoy, even if you are now on the wrong side of 60.

And if later someone posts a photograph of a new watch in the Haddenham Classics’ WhatsApp group, and the debate begins again, that simply proves my point. Cars and watches have always been about more than transport or timekeeping. They are machines that make WhatsApp itself a little more interesting.