Twin Cam Flier

Morris Minors are quite possibly the best cars ever made. At least, that's what some of their owners think! However, it may also be true that they can be a little leisurely in the performance department. Rod Ker, a Minor man himself, investigated a Morris with Fiat Twin Cam power.

As is well known, the car that emerged at the Motor Show in 1948 as the Morris Minor was originally going to be far more daring and high-tech. Prototypes on the road even before the dust of WW2 had settled were powered by a flat-four engine. Fully independent suspension would also have been a possibility if young design ace, Alec Issigonis, had been in full control.

Unfortunately, big chief William Morris decided that the world wasn't ready for too many new-fangled ideas. So the Minor was instead powered (if that's not too strong a word) by the same side-valve lump that had first seen the light of day in the Thirties, years before Neville Chamberlain had waved useless bits of paper in front of the cameras assuring us that Hitler was a nice guy really.

Still, in 1948 no-one had any money to buy cars, manufacturers didn't have the raw materials to make them, and there was hardly any petrol available for private motoring. The fact that a Minor could barely crack 60mph didn't really matter; it could still run rings around most of the traffic and potholes on our badly-maintained roads.

Things could only get better in the Fifties: petrol and new cars became freely available, HP restrictions were relaxed, motoring started to become a leisure activity, albeit for a privileged minority. Meanwhile, much to everyone's surprise, in 1952 Morris and Austin merged to form BMC. Once deadly rivals had become part of the same family, a process that continued for another couple of decades, until BL reached critical mass and exploded. Or was it imploded?

That's another story, but the effect on the Minor was immediate, because the then-new Austin A-series ohv four supplanted the wheezy side-valver. This was undoubtedly a step in the right direction, but it wasn't quite the revolution that the Mog's growing band of sporty drivers wanted. The problem was that the A-series started life with a displacement °f just 803cc, so while there was a bit more Power (3bhp more!), it was less accessible. Plenty of people preferred the lazier gait of the old Morris four, apparently.

The Austin A30 which formed the main opposition had the very same SObhp engine; funnily enough, but it was more cramped and less stylish, which probably persuaded one Oxfordshire resident (assuming the 'FC' registration is original) to buy the Minor two-door saloon seen here. How proud he must have been, driving away from the dealership in his new motor. Fifty-one years later, he'd hopefully be even more proud to see how well his Mog looked.

And if he'd gone for a drive he'd have been astonished! You see, although this ancient BMC artefact looks fairly standard from the outside, give or take an alloy wheel or four, there's been a revolution under the surface, courtesy of JLH Minors. For starters, the limp 803cc engine has been jettisoned in favour of a 2 litre dohc lump and five-speed gearbox, as more often seen (before they all rotted away) in the Fiat 132/Argenta and transversely in various Lancias. In the classic motorcycle world, such a hybrid might be rechristened as a 'Fiarris', but car people don't seem to go in for that sort of thing. I rather like the idea of sticking a subtle 'Minor TC' badge on the boot lid, though! Ten or twenty years back this engine was a common transplant subject, but the scrapyard supply dried up long ago, hence JLH's current K-series conversions.

Quadrupling the power without up-rating the chassis would be pointless, so the running gear has also been extensively modified. At the front, you'll find wide-based lower wishbones, Yep, this is the traditional wolf in sheep's trousers. Apart from the flashy wheels, you'd think that the district nurse was just out of shot attached to coil springs and adjustable Spax dampers. The original tls drum brakes have gone in favour of big ventilated discs and a pair of Ford calipers. I'd already experienced this set-up on the K-series engined Traveller we took to Oulton Park last year for a CCMart feature, but the back end on this car is a new development, designed by Jonathon Heap. The main problems with the standard rear suspension are that the axle is only located by a weedy pair of leaf springs, and the lever-arm dampers aren't exactly the last word in control. The whole lot therefore goes in the bin, replaced by a Ford axle located by four trailing links and a Panhard rod, again sprung by coils and telescopic dampers.

There are two things to note here: firstly, the shell has to be 100% solid before even thinking about upping the power. Beyond that, there's a huge amount of cutting, welding and strengthening to be done. In this case the first part of the equation was fully satisfied. Even allowing for this particular car being well cared for, it seems that early Minors were made of thicker, better quality, steel, because it was amazingly unmolested and rot-free. If only they were all like that!

Take my 1969 model, for example (please), which was volunteered to be the other half of this feature. The stack of receipts that came with it confirm that large sections of its bodyshell have been replaced at various times, but the evil tinworm is still merrily chomping away underneath. Happily, after a recent successful assault on an MoT test the old girl was ready and willing to visit her long-lost relative down at JLH's premises in Royal Leamington Spa. A compare and contrast exercise it was, then!

So, at the crack of dawn (that's about 9am in journalistic terms), I prepared for the big trip. Leamington is only about 55 miles from home, but Birmingham tends to get in the way, so it's often preferable to make the journey longer by looping round the busy bits. I'd rather nail my head to a coffee table than go down the M6 in any car, but in the Minor avoiding the urban sprawl was crucial. Which is why I meandered in a vaguely southerly direction, clocking rather more than 55 miles, and taking about twice as long to get there as it might if I'd been in a modern motor and somehow arranged for M6 traffic to move at more than 28mph.

Having seen a lot of slow-motion Midlands scenery, I was prepared for an abrupt change of pace in the Mog TC (Top Cat?). But alas, 'twas not to be... Jonathon had been out doing some more running-in miles just before I arrived. The car was going well, but suddenly there was a sickening crunch from the gearbox. It was still just about driveable, but there was absolutely no point in risking doing further damage by thrashing around Warwickshire.

So the test had to be postponed, which was disappointing for me, but far worse for everyone else concerned. The only good news was that at least I was able to admire the neat engine installation and suspension mods while the car was up on ramps being subjected to a post mortem. As it transpired, the gearbox bearings had failed, but for reasons entirely outside JLH's control. The Fiat transmission was supplied complete, believed to be in good order, but there'd obviously been a mix-up somewhere along the line.

Nil desperandum and all that; a week and a gearbox rebuild later, I returned for another try. This time all systems were go, and as an additional bonus the engine was beginning to loosen up, which meant that I wouldn't have to drive like a district nurse (although old habits die hard). Ignoring for a moment the wide alloy wheels and low-profile tyres, the first thing I noticed on getting in was the pedal layout. All Minors have the clutch and brake sprouting from the floor, but on early models they're much closer together because both are pivoted inside the longitudinal 'chassis leg'. Even my fairly dainty size 8s were in danger of pressing two pedals at once, so this isn't the sort of car you'd drive in a pair of wellies.

Looking forward, the bar in the middle of the split screen is initially conspicuous, but within seconds your brain blots it out, so it's definitely not a visibility/safety issue. Indeed, you can see far more of the outside world from here than you can in many modern cars with huge blind spots created by thick, sloping A-pillars and ginormous door mirrors. Odd how designers nowadays are so keen to protect car occupants in accidents that they seem to forget that it might be better to avoid one in the first place! One of the later Minor's most distinctive features is its large central speedometer and metal dashboard.

Back in 1953 life was even simpler, with a small speedo ' and a couple of gauges plonked carelessly somewhere behind a shiny-rimmed (Bakelite?) steering wheel. By the time of my drive, these had been joined by an electronic rev-counter jutting from the centre of the dash. No redline in this case, but Fiat's twin cam has quite a long stroke and delivers its maximum at a relatively modest 5600rpm or so.

Turn the key, press the button, and the engine fires up with a raucous blart from the side exhaust. Although in most respects this is a 'Q-car', the amount of noise it produces does tend to attract a bit of attention. One of the unfortunate side-effects of the five-link suspension is that it's difficult to find space for a full-length exhaust without compromising ground clearance, which would be inconvenient when so many roads are festooned with speed bumps these days. At some time in the future the car will be treated to a custom-made system with better silencing, but as it stands only one type of sleeping policeman is safe from assault!

Apart from the bellowing exhaust, the interior noise level was higher than it might have been, simply because the sound-proofing and carpets had been left out. Although the engine is quiet mechanically, the bare metal floor and transmission tunnel amplified all the normal whines and chatters. While this is OK for belting round a racetrack wearing a helmet, for everyday use the overall effect is A BIT LOUD for comfort.

Cruising along in 30 and 40mph limits to get out of town, it was possible to keep the revs down and make relatively hushed progress. But, as soon as the desrestriction signs came into view, it wasn't! As the engine was still running in, I couldn't use the full force, but at anything more than about a third power (which equates almost exactly with flat out in'my own slightly tired 1098cc A-Series) earplugs would have been a good idea.

Suddenly meeting a horse on what was, or had been, a quiet country road, I was made embarrassingly aware of the commotion, and received a withering 'y°u should know better' type of look from the rider, even though I slowed to walking pace. Still, how much tax and insurance do you pay to put a horse on a public highway, eh? In any case, I reckon she would probably have heard me coming from several miles away and thus could have made more of an effort to remove dobbin from the middle of the road before I arrived.

At least this incident proved that the up-rated brakes work very well. In a standard car with front drums, stopping from high speed can be a slightly alarming business involving much veering from side to side. Perhaps it's fortunate that ordinary Minors were rarely capable of anything qualifying as high speed? 75mph is about your lot in the least slow 1000. Lack of power is one reason, but bluff aerodynamics and low gearing don't help.

It's interesting to compare the British theory of gear : ratios in the Fifties and Sixties to that practised by the Continentals. The Minor was deliberately geared low to make it responsive in top gear in the 30-50mph zone suitable for our quaint little roads. This meant that when the motorway age finally arrived, Mogs were revving their brains out at 5OOOrpm to do 70mph, which wasn't very restful, or conducive to reliability or economy.

Over on the other side of the Channel, the VW Beetle's breathing and gearing were arranged so that you could drive jackboot to the floor down an Autobahn all day and never get near the mechanical limit, even downhill with a following wind. Meanwhile, in La Belle France, the only time a Citroen 2CV wasn't used flat out was when '_ its driver stopped to down a few bottles of red wine. An unburstable engine meant that despite its lack of capacity and paper horsepower, the Tin Snail was probably happier on a long motorway journey than a Minor.

Obviously, with a torquey two litre engine and five-speed box in place, the gearing can be raised considerably. Lack of a recalibrated speedo coupled with an absence of data on gear and differential ratios, tyre circumference, etc, means that I can't say for sure, , but fifth seemed to give something over 20mph per 10OOrpm. Whatever the exact figure, it's still quite low by current standards, when all cars are lumbered with ridiculously tall gears, so you can settle into a relaxed 95mph cruise if by some miracle you're on a flat, empty motorway with no Gatsos. Which is all very well, but rice pudding skins tend not to be threatened by the acceleration on offer without plenty of cogging down.

The TC is nothing like that. Even in fifth, a prod on the throttle will summon up plenty of urge (and noise), and it'll trundle along at town speeds in the same gear without feeling as though the engine wants to jump out of the car. With some more running-in miles clocked, the performance should be pretty electrifying. In its prime a Fiat 132 with the same engine would do 0-60mph in ten seconds and around 110mph maxed out. Weighing about 30% less, manic Morris should be able to knock a few seconds off the acceleration time. Although its frontal area may be smaller, I don't think the 'poached egg' would win any prizes for aerodynamic efficiency, so top speeds will be similar. That 80mph speedo will definitely end up with a bent needle!

Half a century ago the Minor's handling and roadholding were outstanding. Even today few cars have such precise steering, and ditching the high-walled crossplies in favour of slightly wider radials will mean that you can keep up with most traffic on twisty roads. But let's be realistic, it's not a Lotus Elise. Just the thought of 110bhp and ton-plus motoring in a standard Mog brings me out in a cold sweat.

Luckily for everyone, with all the suspension, brakes and chassis mods, this car feels entirely different on the road. Generally speaking, the impression is that you're driving something bigger, lower and more stable. With twice as much rubber on the tarmac, the steering is obviously going to be heavier, but even pampered wimps accustomed to PAS won't find it too much of a strain. There's loads of feedback and you can tell exactly what's happening at the road surface. Instead of a slightly wandery sensation, caused at least partly I reckon by the amount of compliance in the standard suspension (both the rear axle and the front wheels have lots of potential to flap around in all directions), there's a feeling of rock-solid stability.

I accidentally chose to drive down what must be one of the bumpiest roads in Warwickshire, but Top Cat didn't show any tendency to lurch off into the hedgerows, even when my head was in danger of hitting the roof lining. In a moment of glory, it was here that I managed to catch up with a large Mercedes, which evidently didn't find the going so easy. The driver did a double take in the rear view mirror, realised he wasn't hallucinating, then speeded up... Not enough to shake off the stealth split screen, though!

When the owner finishes the running in and gets round to a track session, as planned, I have every confidence that more than a few drivers of modern machinery will be similarly surprised. While the K-series . engined Traveller tested at Oulton had more straight line speed (as it should with 50% more power and less weight), it didn't have the same feeling of predictability. Diving into corners, I never quite knew how close to the . limit it was. As the two cars' front ends are identical, the improvement is probably mostly due to the improved lateral location of the five-link axle. Another factor must be that the saloon bodyshell is inherently more rigid; a good deal of the Traveller's structural strength is provided by the rear woodwork, and no matter how much the floor is braced, there'll be a certain amount of flex. As someone once said, wood is great stuff for making trees, but has no place in a car apart from on the dashboard.

As you may have gathered, there really is no comparison between a standard Mog 1000 and this black beast. One was designed for trundling through war-torn Britain at 38mph, the other was put together for an enthusiast who wanted something special and individualistic. There are plenty of Minor people who consider that any modifications are sacrilege and would therefore hate the TC on principle. I'm not one of them!

 

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