Under the hammer
Alan Judd
Had I a mistress she would be Dorsetshire, that lush, chalk streamed, motorway-free county. Childhood holidays with an aunt near the Frome in Dorchester eventually yielded my first (and, alas, only) trout. At nearby Bockhampton, Thomas Hardy’s birthplace, I first heard the story of how a local farmer’s cat was supposed to have eaten the author’s heart the night before it was to be buried, and how they shot the cat and buried that instead. And there’s that Mecca for enthusiasts of what used to be called motorism, the Bovington tank museum. I’d like a job there.
But I didn’t associate the county with car sales until Brian Chant’s third DVCA classic car auction in the Blackmoor Vale. He had some nice sets of wheels at reasonable prices. I liked the stately 1935 Armstrong Siddeley Tourer (£8,000) whose owner, sadly, felt the need to downsize his collection from its current 70 cars. The righthand drive 1939 Cadillac 60 Special was extravagantly special and a snip at £11,500, while a pretty 1953 Sunbeam Talbot 90 made a healthy £6,000 thanks to a US telephone bid. There were the usual Aston Martins and E-types but at sensible money and a good 1982 Bristol 412 at £7,800, which would have tempted me were it not that Bristol and I part company with the 412. Those sharp angles and flat planes are a genetic leap too far from the curves and elegance of its forebears.
The car I was there for was a 1951 Mark VI Bentley with a long MOT. I had one 30 years ago but it so broke my heart and wallet that it was decades before I could behold the winged B again without wincing. Now, older but no wiser, I have a strong urge to do it all again. A Yorkshireman I trust has one for £15,000, which seems about right for something properly usable and presentable. You see some at £30,000 but that’s silly money. Less than £9,000 probably means work costing more than the car is worth. You can spend a lot less by paying a little more.
The estimate for this one was £5,000–£6,000. Mr Chant considerately warned enquirers in advance of rot in the sills. That told me all I needed to know, really, but I couldn’t leave the itch alone and Dorset is an alluring county.
I enjoy auctions — the buzz, the sense of possibility, the bacon rolls, the hot, tasteless tea in paper cups, the sight of man (it is mostly men) engrossed in one of his more innocent activities, the making of money. The Bentley was black over grey and had substantial history. The chrome was pretty good and from five yards the car looked fine. Engine bay, oil and water were OK (you can’t drive them at auctions, of course, which is one good reason always to pay less) and, so far as could be seen from a quick head-under, the chassis and chassis mounts were intact. I quite like a well-used interior and woodwork and leather were acceptable but the headlining was iffy and the carpets had been cheaply replaced and didn’t fit properly. Nor was I too sure about the floor. Exterior paintwork was reasonable until you looked at where the rear wings joined the body, ditto the front wings.
In these brief inspections all you see are the tips of icebergs, the bits that have actually broken through. Finally those sills: OK in patches but elsewhere a few gentle prods with a stubby screwdriver went right through, followed by my fist.
I didn’t bid. Others did, and it went for £6,200, a good price for the seller and all right for the buyer if, as with many of this vintage, he intends to remove the body and turn the car into a sporty Mark VI special. Otherwise, restoration will cost a packet, but maybe he’s happy with that. Or maybe he’s a carefree hedonist who’ll just enjoy it until it becomes uneconomic to MOT, then sell it for not much less than he gave for it. You could certainly do that.
So the search continues. Once you’ve got the itch it spreads and you consider cars and costs you didn’t originally intend. Vicarys of Battle in Sussex (01424 772425) often have interesting older specimens and I found myself looking at a James Young coachbuilt Mark VI coupé, one of only four made, which is to be resprayed and priced in the twenties. But if you’re spending £20,000, why not the very sound sand and sable 1960 Series II, John Blatchley’s iconic design, with extensive history from its last ownership of 39 years? Or the 1963 mid-green Series III (if you don’t mind double headlights) for £4,000 more?
And must it be Bentley? There’s a very good-sounding but overpriced (£11,500) 1965 Daimler Majestic Major, a marque of which I have happy memories. Powered by Edward Turner’s (of Ariel Square Four and Triumph Speed Twin motorbike fame) great 4.5 litre V8, there are thought to be only about 70 left. They should be saved. Or why not a good example of their far more common Daimler–Jaguar nephew, with Turner’s 2.5 V8, at about £6,000?
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