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We’ve put together a top 10 of 1970s cars: any excuse for us to get out the old motoring mags and marvel at how, apparently, we’d always promised ourselves a Capri, not to mention how Austin could pose the question, Allegro: What’s In It For Us? (You can guess our answer). The top 10 here is not the flashiest or fastest of machinery, but 10 cars that all of us have experienced in some way. How many of them will be shown glinting on our TV screens in the weeks to come?
Ford Capri
Picture a Capri. It sums up why the brain is amazing – there it is, tail broadside, sliding through your head. But that’s TV cop shows for you. The reality of the Capri was Cortina-based 1.3-litre models, asthmatically shrieking at the owner trying to summon meaningful go from The Car He Always Promised Himself. And then getting nailed by a Hillman Imp. The Capri was a glorious example of style over substance, but how we loved it anyway. It was launched in ’69; by 1973, they’d sold a million and would go on to nearly double that. You could say it was a success.
Jaguar XJ-S
How do you follow an act like the E-Type? Well by the end the E-Type was no longer a svelte sportscar but had grown, literally, into a soft Grand Tourer, needing a hefty V12 to keep the performance up to expectations. It’s replacement, the XJ-S used the same powerplant, not the best move in the fuel starved 70s but the really controversial thing was the styling, particularly those ‘flying buttresses’ at the rear. One wag at the time said it had been styled by three different people who never met. It stood the test of time however, gaining a smaller and less thirsty engine and a convertible variant, staying in production for 20 years and comfortably ooutselling the E-Type.
Ford Granada
Police forces unimpressed by Rover’s reliability record found solace in the German-engineered Granny. Or was it that they secretly wanted to be Regan in The Sweeney? The show’s 3.0 V6 GT certainly gave them all the tail-out, opposite-lock, fighting-hard-with-the-wheel (nylon suit unencumbered by seatbelt, of course) inspiration they needed, and scenes from Bullitt were often re-enacted on the streets of Wolverhampton and Surbiton. Ford replaced the super-cool 1972 original with a boxy, steroidal Cortina clone in 1977, and all the coolness was gone; was it coincidental that The Sweeney ceased just a year later?
Triumph Dolomite Sprint
It wasn’t all bad in ‘70s BL. Over in Coventry, Triumph were busy developing a world-first: the 16v four-cylinder engine that powered the Dolomite Sprint so eagerly. 127bhp from a 2.0-litre (and 60mph in 8.7secs) still sounds healthy today, never mind how it looked in the ‘70s. You can imagine how this could have become a proper British BMW 3-Series rival. Goodness, it was even the first British saloon to come with alloy wheels as standard. But though my dad owned one and loved it, his summed up what did for it: unreliability. And we were lucky. The engine only majorly went pop once…
Vauxhall Cavalier
It’s hard to believe today, but when the Cavalier was launched in 1975, it wasn’t actually that popular. People – get this – overlooked it, saw it as a bit of an irrelevance. Those heady days of 1980s success were some way off… ironic, seeing as the original is probably the enthusiast’s fave. Pretty, it not only shared a front end with the revered Manta coupe, but an entire platform: rear-drive fun, and 1.3-litre/1.6-litre engines may have been small, but were eminently tuneable. Better than the Cortina? You bet. Shame Vauxhall’s rusty reputation at the time precluded the success it deserved.
Fiat 127
In 1971, Fiat adopted an idea from the Renault 4 and did something to the compact 127 that would change Europe’s motoring psyche. Gave it a hatchback. It won European Car of the Year, but don’t let that put you off – this car was clever, mechanically advanced, cute, practical, basically nothing short of ingenious. Passengers and luggage enjoyed 80% of the floor space, the drive was delicious and Fiat sold them in droves. Sure, many later rusted into thin air, but the company was nevertheless flattered: rivals fell over themselves to produce competitors. A landmark car.
Hillman Avenger
Nothing to do with Diana Rigg sadly, the Avenger was a conventional three-box saloon. And if you think it looks plain, you should see what it replaced. Styling had American influences, because Hillman was by then owned by Chrysler. And get this – it was the first British car to use a plastic radiator grille. Oooh. The press liked it more than the Marina, mind, particularly the ultra-rare Avenger Tiger. Its 92bhp saw 60mph in 8.9secs, and it was a blast to drive. It brought a smile to the driver’s face – reflecting, you observe, those distinctive rear lights…
VW Golf
Had this car not been a hit, VW wouldn’t be the powerhouse it is now. There would be no Audi R8, no modern-day Lamborghini, no Bentley Continental GT… arise, then, Sir MkI Golf, and your six million clones that sold between 1974 and 1983. You were revolutionary, replacing the aged Beetle with hatchback packaging and suspension soon copied by every rival. Giugiaro gave you iconic looks and a few bored VW engineers turned you into a GTI that changed the performance car world. You’re still a hoot today, 30 years on – and you were up against the Allegro? Your sniggering is excused…
Morris Marina
Only British Leyland could think it a good idea to launch a Ford Cortina rival based on Morris Minor mechanicals. Yes, the car that put post-war Britain on the road in 1948 would be the company’s key driving force for the ‘70s. Genius. Now, the story of how average-to-bad it was, how it gloriously failed to meet sales targets, how it was depressingly renamed ‘Ital’ and rumbled on until 1983, is well known. It’s here because they sold millions, including one that touched me. My dad sat me down. “It’s your uncle Ray. He’s brought a Marina.” Kids aren’t meant to understand such things. But I knew.
Rover SD1
Cops loved the SD1 as it was big, fast, had a classic V8 and looked like a Ferrari. The big Rover was king of the motorways, yet a force on twisty roads and bedecked with comfy seats for when the early ones broke down. Yep, unreliability again, and if it wasn’t so darn stylish, we’d be repeating the Marina’s tale here. But Rover really hit on something with the SD1, not least with the V8. Yes, a 3.5-litre V8! It’s still tantalising. Like Triumph, with a modern interpretation of this, Rover could have had the sporting exec sector sewn up. How sad.
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