Torque talk 2026
Rover P6: a car for the future, born in difficult times
by Lee Jones
If you grew up in the late 1960s and early 1970s, like me, you will remember that Britain was not in the best of places. Times were hard. The country lurched through industrial unrest, three day weeks, power cuts and blackouts. Rubbish piled high on the streets during strikes. Governments struggled to maintain control, often clinging to power without real authority. It was, in many respects, a bleak and uncertain period with little to look forward to.
And yet, out of this environment came something remarkably optimistic. A car that did not look backwards, but forwards. A car that embraced new ideas in engineering, safety and design. A car that, for a time, set the pace not just at home, but alongside our European counterparts.
That car was the Rover P6.
A new direction for Rover
When Rover launched the P6 in 1963 as the Rover 2000, it marked a decisive break from tradition. The company had built its reputation on solid, conservative cars, but it recognised that the market was changing. Buyers wanted more than durability.
What Rover produced was not just competitive. It was a genuinely advanced, fearsome shark-nosed hunter to take on its rivals.
The P6 was conceived as a clean-sheet design to meet that demand. It would sit below the larger P5, offering a more modern, compact executive package aimed at professionals who might otherwise look to Jaguar or continental alternatives.
Engineering from first principles
The P6 was developed without compromise, and that shows in its construction.
Innovative base unit structure
Instead of a conventional monocoque, Rover engineered a rigid base unit with bolt-on outer panels. These panels were not structural, meaning they could be removed and replaced if damaged. This was a forward thinking approach, even if it did not entirely eliminate corrosion concerns in the underlying structure.
Suspension design
At the rear, the P6 used a de Dion axle, offering improved wheel control compared with a traditional live axle while avoiding the complexity of full independent suspension.
At the front, horizontally mounted coil springs operated via rocker arms allowed for a lower bonnet line and contributed to the car’s distinctive stance.
Braking and safety
Disc brakes were fitted on all four wheels, with the rear units mounted inboard to reduce unsprung weight. Safety was a core part of the design, with a strong passenger cell and crumple zones incorporated from the outset.
Engines and model range
Four cylinder origins
The original 2.0 litre engine featured an overhead camshaft and a Heron combustion chamber design. Early single carburettor versions were competent, but the 2000TC, introduced in 1966 with twin carburettors, gave the car a more spirited character.
2200 development
Later, the engine was enlarged to 2.2 litres, improving torque and making the car more flexible in everyday driving.
The V8 era
The arrival of the 3.5 litre aluminium V8 in 1968 transformed the P6. Smooth and powerful, it elevated the car into a different league. The later 3500S manual remains one of the most sought after variants, combining performance with driver engagement.
Styling, identity and detail
The P6’s styling, led by David Bache, avoided excess but delivered presence. The proportions were carefully judged, with a low bonnet line and a tall glasshouse that provided excellent visibility.
There is a subtle aggression to the front end. The grille and headlamp arrangement, combined with the tapering nose, give the car a faintly shark-like quality, a design language later echoed and fully realised by the very capable BMW 635csi in the 1980s. It is understated, but unmistakable.
Chrome detailing was used generously across the car, from the bumpers and window surrounds to the grille and trim, giving the P6 a distinctly polished and sophisticated presence. The hubcaps, finished with Rover’s Viking longship badge, are a defining feature.
The Viking badge
The Viking ship emblem had long been part of Rover’s identity, symbolising travel, exploration and engineering capability. Its presence on the P6 reinforces the sense that this was a car designed to move the brand forward, not simply continue tradition.
Interior, trim and factory options
The interior of the P6 reflects a blend of traditional values and modern thinking.
Materials and design
Buyers could choose between leather, vinyl or cloth upholstery. Leather offered a more luxurious feel, vinyl provided durability, and cloth delivered comfort for regular use.
One particularly notable option was the provision of four individual headrests. At a time when many cars offered none, this was a clear statement of intent around safety and occupant comfort. My father’s car featured this option, finished in beige leather.
The dashboard is especially interesting. While it appears to be wood, most P6 models used a Formica laminate. This was a deliberate decision. At the time, Formica was considered a modern, durable material that resisted cracking and fading better than traditional wood veneer.
Early cars used a more restrained wood effect, while later Series II models adopted a more pronounced ‘Brazilian rosewood’ style finish. Only the very earliest P6 examples briefly used genuine wood before the switch to laminate.
The upper dashboard was moulded in a single piece with a leather grain texture, designed to reduce glare and improve safety.
Factory options
Rover offered a wide range of options, allowing buyers to tailor their cars:
· Power assisted steering
· Automatic transmission on early V8 models
· Steel sliding sunroof
· Heated rear window
· Radio and upgraded audio systems
· Front and rear headrests
· Additional exterior brightwork and overriders
This level of choice meant no two cars were necessarily identical, and well specified examples stand out today.
What might have been: the P6 estate question
Looking back, one of the more intriguing aspects of the Rover P6 story is not what was built, but what was not.
Officially, the P6 was produced only as a four door saloon. Rover never offered a factory estate or shooting brake variant, despite the car’s engineering versatility and the growing appeal of more practical body styles during the late 1960s and early 1970s.
And yet, the idea refused to go away.
A small number of specialist coachbuilders stepped in to fill the gap. Companies such as FLM Panelcraft and Crayford produced estate conversions in very limited numbers. The most notable of these is the Panelcraft 'Estoura', typically based on the V8 powered 3500. Properly engineered rather than crudely adapted, these cars featured extended rooflines and functional tailgates.
They remain exceptionally rare, but they demonstrate that the concept had real merit.
Rover’s decision not to pursue an estate version was likely driven by cost and complexity. The P6’s base unit construction made significant redesign expensive, and estate cars were still seen as niche within the executive market at the time.
It is difficult not to speculate. A factory built P6 estate, particularly with the V8, would have been a compelling proposition.
Competition and market position
The P6 competed with cars such as:
Triumph 2000
Ford Zephyr and Zodiac
Citroën DS
Each offered something different, but the Rover distinguished itself through engineering sophistication and refinement.
Over time, competition evolved, particularly from German manufacturers offering simpler but increasingly capable designs. The P6, while still impressive, became more expensive to produce in comparison.
Why the SD1 never quite matched it
The SD1 that followed in 1976 took a different approach. It was designed with cost efficiency in mind, using more conventional engineering and a simpler rear suspension layout.
While it was stylish and offered strong performance, particularly in V8 form, it lacked the depth of engineering found in the P6. Early build quality issues further undermined its reputation.
Where the P6 felt carefully engineered, the SD1 often felt compromised.
Living with a Rover P6
Running costs and practicality
Today, the P6 remains a usable classic. Four cylinder cars can achieve mid twenties miles per gallon, while V8 models typically return figures in the high teens to low twenties.
Insurance is affordable, and parts availability is strong.
Maintenance
The car is robust but requires proper care. Inboard rear brakes need regular attention, and the de Dion suspension must be kept in good condition. Cooling systems, particularly on V8s, are critical.
Interior durability
The use of Formica means dashboards often survive better than traditional wood. Leather ages well if maintained, while vinyl and cloth offer durability.
A personal perspective
For some, the P6 is more than just a car. It is part of family history.
My father worked at Rover during the P6’s production, on the factory floor at a time when British manufacturing still carried real weight. In 1974, he bought his own car, an H registration Rover 2000 in Bordeaux. It was his pride and joy.
That car was well specified, including the optional four headrests in beige leather, something that made it feel just that bit more special.
I remember long journeys in the back, not properly seated but perched on the rear armrest, no seat belt in sight. The car would be full. My mum and dad in the front, my nan alongside, her friend in the back, everyone smoking as was normal at the time. My nan, armed with a packet of Polos and a reputation for chronic wind, completed the scene.
It sounds chaotic now, but the Rover handled it all without complaint. It was comfortable, composed and dependable, the sort of car that became part of everyday life.
What to look for when buying
· Check the base unit carefully for corrosion
· Inspect panel fit and condition
· Ensure engine and cooling system are sound
· Verify braking and suspension condition
· Assess interior trim and originality
Conclusion
Would I want one? Hell yes!
The Rover P6 represents a moment when British engineering aimed high and delivered. It combined innovation, safety and refinement in a way that set it apart from its contemporaries.
It was not just a product of its time. In many ways, it was ahead of it.
And for those who remember them, whether through ownership or family stories, it remains far more than just a car.
Autoglym Paint Reviver review: Can it really bring tired paintwork back to life?
by Lee Jones
There comes a point when even a well-maintained classic starts to lose a little of its sparkle. My Bentley Turbo R certainly isn't neglected, but over the years it has inevitably picked up the odd stone chip, a few light scratches, and the sort of minor paint imperfections that come with actually using and enjoying a car rat
by Lee Jones
There comes a point when even a well-maintained classic starts to lose a little of its sparkle. My Bentley Turbo R certainly isn't neglected, but over the years it has inevitably picked up the odd stone chip, a few light scratches, and the sort of minor paint imperfections that come with actually using and enjoying a car rather than hiding it away under a cover.
So when Autoglym launched its new Paint Reviver, promising to restore gloss, deepen colour, and help disguise minor paint defects, I was keen to see whether it could breathe a little extra life into the Bentley's striking red pearlescent paintwork.
The product sits somewhere between a traditional polish and a glaze. Rather than aggressively cutting into the paintwork to remove defects, Paint Reviver is designed to fill and conceal light swirls and scratches while enhancing the appearance of the paint. For many enthusiasts, that's an attractive proposition. Not everyone wants to reach for a machine polisher, especially when dealing with older paintwork, where preserving what you've got is often preferable to removing more of it.
Application couldn't have been simpler. After washing the car, I applied the product by hand using a microfibre applicator. The cream spread easily across the surface and required very little effort to work into the paintwork. Unlike some polishing compounds that seem determined to fight back at every stage, Paint Reviver was refreshingly straightforward to use.
It's worth noting that Autoglym recommends thoroughly decontaminating the paintwork before application, including the use of a clay bar to remove embedded contaminants. I didn't carry out that process as part of this test, but owners looking to achieve the very best possible results would be wise to follow that advice. As with most detailing products, preparation is often the key to success.
Once applied and buffed off, the first thing that struck me was the increase in gloss. The Bentley's red pearlescent paint immediately looked richer and deeper. Reflections appeared sharper, and the finish developed what detailers often describe as a ‘wet look’ shine. On a large car like the Turbo R, with its long sweeping panels and acres of paintwork, the effect was particularly noticeable.
Standing back and looking at the car in sunlight, there was no question that it looked better than before. The colour seemed to have gained a little more depth, and the overall finish had a freshly detailed appearance. For anyone preparing their car for a show, club meet, or weekend event, that's exactly the sort of result they're looking for.
However, the real question was whether Paint Reviver would live up to its claims of disguising minor defects. The answer is yes – but only to a point.
Very light marks and fine swirls certainly appeared less noticeable after treatment. The product definitely improved the overall uniformity of the finish and helped reduce the visibility of some minor imperfections. Unfortunately, it didn't quite perform the miracle I had hoped for when it came to stone chips and more obvious scratches. Those marks were still there.
Perhaps they were slightly softened visually, but they certainly hadn't disappeared. If your car has accumulated the usual collection of small chips from years of road use, don't expect Paint Reviver to make them vanish. Likewise, scratches that can be felt with a fingernail remain largely unchanged.
To be fair to Autoglym, that's not really a criticism of the product. The company doesn't claim that Paint Reviver is a paint correction compound. It is designed to improve appearance and conceal light imperfections, not eliminate more significant damage.
In many ways, I think expectations are the deciding factor when judging this product. If you approach it expecting a quick and easy gloss enhancer, you'll probably be delighted with the results. If you're hoping to transform tired paintwork into concours-winning perfection in an afternoon, you'll almost certainly be disappointed.
That
In many ways, I think expectations are the deciding factor when judging this product. If you approach it expecting a quick and easy gloss enhancer, you'll probably be delighted with the results. If you're hoping to transform tired paintwork into concours-winning perfection in an afternoon, you'll almost certainly be disappointed.
That naturally raises the question of how Paint Reviver compares with some of the alternatives on the market. Many enthusiasts will already be familiar with Autoglym's long-established Super Resin Polish, a product that has earned a loyal following over the years, thanks to its ability to fill and disguise minor defects while adding protection and shine. Others may look towards products such as Meguiar's Ultimate Polish, or Turtle Wax Colour Magic, particularly on older paint finishes where colour enhancement is a priority.
In truth, each product serves a slightly different purpose. Super Resin Polish remains something of a benchmark when it comes to hiding minor imperfections, while Colour Magic can be particularly effective on older paintwork where colour restoration is desired. Paint Reviver's strength lies in its simplicity and the quality of gloss it produces. It is perhaps best viewed as part of a wider detailing routine rather than a complete solution on its own.
Personally, I suspect the ideal approach would be to start with a proper wash and decontamination process, use a clay bar where necessary, follow up with a suitable colour-enhancing wax and then finish with Paint Reviver. That combination would likely deliver the best balance of gloss, depth, and visual improvement.
Of course, not everyone wants to spend an entire weekend detailing their car, and that's where Paint Reviver's appeal becomes obvious. It provides a noticeable improvement with relatively little effort and requires no specialist equipment or expertise. In an age where many detailing products seem to come with a degree-level instruction manual, there is something refreshing about a product that simply works straight from the bottle.
After several weeks of use, my overall impression remains positive. The Bentley looked noticeably better after treatment, the paintwork gained a richer appearance and the product was exceptionally easy to apply. While it didn't hide stone chips and scratches as effectively as I had hoped, it delivered exactly what it promised: enhanced gloss, improved depth of colour and a more refined overall finish.
So, would I use it again? Yes, absolutely.
Would I rely on it to disguise paint defects? Probably not.
For me, Paint Reviver works best as a finishing product rather than a corrective one. If your paintwork is fundamentally sound and simply needs a boost, it's well worth considering. If you're hoping to erase years of wear and tear, you'll need something more aggressive – or perhaps a visit to a professional detailer.
For owners looking for an easy way to add depth, shine and a freshly detailed appearance to their pride and joy, Autoglym Paint Reviver is a worthwhile addition to the garage shelf. Just don't expect miracles.
Haddenham Classics Verdict: 8/10
Pros
· Very easy to apply
· Excellent gloss enhancement
· Produces a rich, wet-look finish
· No machine polishing required
· Good value for money
Cons
· Limited effect on stone chips
· Deeper scratches remain visible
· Works best as part of a wider detailing routine
A useful product that delivers a genuinely impressive shine, but one that is better at enhancing paintwork than hiding its imperfections.
Timekeepers of the road - why fine watches and classic cars have always gone hand in hand
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.
Why own a classic car?
Why own a classic car?
by Lee Jones
I’ve been asked so many times by friends, family, work colleagues, people at shows and complete strangers, “Why do you bother with an old car?”
To be honest, it’s a question I’ve asked myself more than once. Never more so than when my kaput Rolls-Royce Silver Spirit was being loaded onto the back of a recovery transporter in the middle of nowhere in Normandy, while a French mechanic calmly announced, “le joint de culasse est hs.”
Why then do we bother with old cars that have questionable reliability, the stopping distance of an oil tanker, and about the same fuel economy and environmental credentials as a Saturn V rocket?
Why own a classic car?
For me, the answer is simple: nostalgia. Not nostalgia for the car itself necessarily, but for a time gone by. A time when we aspired to the cars of the day, or when someone we knew, perhaps a parent, owned one. Maybe we worked for the brand as an apprentice, or simply admired it through our adolescent eyes.
It’s nostalgia for a connection to our youth. For happy memories, a more optimistic view of the future, and perhaps even our first taste of romance with a cheeky snog in the back seat!
Modern cars are better, but that’s not the point
Modern cars are undeniably better, that much is certain. They start on cold mornings and usually last well beyond our parents’ 100,000-mile ‘it’s knackered, son’ milestone. They have air conditioning, heated and cooled seats, so no towel or visit to the burns unit is required just to get in one on a hot day.
Their headlights are brighter than a UFO from Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Those same lights now swivel around corners, guide you to your front door and provide ambient mood lighting for the outside of your car.
Why own a classic car?
And if, on returning home from a hard day in the office without autonomous driving engaged, you should have the misfortune to collide with a tree you never knew existed in your driveway, you can be sure you will instantly be wrapped in a protective bubble. The car will call the emergency services, submit an insurance claim and book itself in for repair, and if it’s a Tesla it will drive itself there without you too!
Modern cars, then, are good. They are reliable, comfortable and safer. But they cannot replace the feeling of a classic.
What a classic car gives you that a modern one doesn’t
A classic delivers a more engaging, connected and analogue driving experience, with genuine feedback through the controls. It provides a sense of occasion that modern cars simply cannot replicate.
Owning a classic often provides a golden ticket into a motoring fraternity such as Haddenham Classics, with all the camaraderie, social opportunity and, yes, the occasional politics that brings.
Owning a classic vehicle is a lot like owning a dog. The public love them and will always stop for a chat. Many a time I have taken mine for a spin to the shops or to get some petrol, only to have someone come up to me, say “lovely car”, and for a conversation to ensue.
Friendships blossom with a classic, in a way you simply do not experience with a modern car. All facets of ownership, from joining clubs and touring to fixing, buying, selling, showing and discussing all things classic, create opportunities to meet people. I personally have made so many wonderful friends that I simply would not have done without owning my classic. I have even created a car club and put Haddenham on the automotive map simply because I have the car.
And let’s not forget that nostalgia trip. The feeling you get every time you drive your car is like connecting with the past. It takes you back to a time when life was a little slower, or perhaps when you were a boy racer. Either way, it is a connection, a memory and a small thrill, sometimes bordering on the spiritual, as you sit in the driver’s seat and quietly pray it will start when you turn the key. What modern car can deliver that?
The social side nobody talks about
Men in particular are a funny group. We are taught from an early age to be tough, to show little emotion and to keep a stiff upper lip. Being British means we are often a reserved bunch who like to keep to ourselves, rarely asking for help or even directions when lost.
As you get older, your social circle can grow smaller and, with it, isolation sometimes creeps in. This is by no means limited to men, as all genders suffer from it, but proportionally it is higher in men. The pressure builds, life throws a few curve balls and you may find yourself facing job loss, divorce or the death of a long-term partner. For some, this can lead to loneliness, isolation and a loss of purpose.
Classic cars are not a miracle cure for society’s ills, but they can offer a possible escape route. Owning one can push you to get out, to join a club and to meet like-minded people who share a passion. Simply talking can improve someone’s mental health, and through the opportunities a club provides, people can regain a sense of purpose or belonging. That might be through attending events, stewarding, or helping to run the club itself.
Driving classics brings people together in a unique way that is increasingly being recognised within the mental health sector and the media. Initiatives such as Men With Machines are spearheading this approach, and it is genuinely working, through engagement with mental health charities and other organisations devoted to improving wellbeing.
Education is another by-product of classic car ownership. You need to learn about them, often very quickly. Haddenham Classics partners with local companies or club members to run workshops that help educate people about the automotive industry or allow them to pick up new skills.
In addition, owning a classic, particularly if you are not a mechanic, means educating yourself on your car’s specific set of quirks and peculiarities.
Why we keep doing it
We have all been there, and it is a question I asked myself recently when my Rolls threw yet another very expensive problem my way. With a heavy heart, I decided it was time to throw in the towel and sell the car at a massive loss. I even considered bailing out of the whole car scene and taking up a less expensive pastime. Running a car club had also become a significant responsibility and, at times, a thankless one.
But the more I reflected on it, the more I realised I would be throwing away an entire social circle that had become a huge part of my life, one that had quietly kept me going for the past seven years. Without a car, I would no longer be able to participate or be part of the gang.
Despite the sleepless nights, quirks and breakdowns, I still enjoy being involved. I came to realise that the car is an essential part of who I am. So I did what any sensible car nut would do, I bought a Bentley!
So if, like me, you reach the same conclusion, please do consider joining our club. We are a very friendly bunch, and we are always looking to include people just like you.