Scuttle

Scuttle (pronounced skuht-l)

(1) In nautical use, a small hatch or port in the deck, side, or bottom of a vessel; a cover for such a hatch; small opening in a boat or ship for draining water from open deck.

(2) A small hatch-like opening in a roof or ceiling that provides access to the roof from the interior of a building.

(3) In nautical use, deliberately to sink one's ship or boat by any means (eg by opening the sea-cocks), usually by order of the vessel's commander or owner.

(4) To abandon, withdraw from, or cause to be abandoned or destroyed (plans, hopes, rumors etc).

(5) To run with quick, hasty steps; scurry; a quick pace; a short, hurried run.

(6) A deep bucket for carrying coal.

(7) In northern British dialectal use, a broad, shallow basket, especially for carrying vegetables; a dish, platter or a trencher (sometimes called scuttle dish).

(8) The part of a motor-car body lying immediately behind the bonnet (hood), called the cowl in the US.

Pre 1050: From the Middle English scutel & scutelle (trencher) and scuttel (dish, basket, winnowing fan), from the Old English scutel (dish, trencher, platter), from the Latin scutella (serving platter; bowl), diminutive of scutra (shallow dish, pan) and (perhaps) the Latin scūtum (shield).  The Latin scutella was the source also of the French écuelle, the Spanish escudilla, the Italian scudella.  It was also a source of much Germanic borrowing, the source of the Old Norse skutill, the Middle Dutch schotel, the Old High German scuzzila and the German Schüssel (a dish).  The Meaning "basket for sifting grain" is attested from the mid-fourteenth century and as a "bucket for holding coal", use dates from 1849.

The sense of a “hole cut in a ship for some purpose” dates from 1490–1500, firstly as “skottell”: Of obscure origin, possibly from the Middle French escoutille, or from the Spanish escotar (to cut out) & escotilla (hatchway), the construct of which was escot & escote (a cutting of cloth) + -illa (a diminutive suffix of Germanic origin).  In the Gothic skaut meant “hem or seam).  Another possible link is to the Middle English scottlynge (scampering), a variant of scuddle and frequentative of scud.  The idea of hatches and holes in ships later extended to automobiles, the scuttle (cowl in the US) the space between the windscreen and bonnet (hood).  The sense of "cutting a hole in a ship to sink it" was first attested in the 1640s, an extension of use from the late-fifteenth century skottell (opening in a ship's deck), either from the French escoutille (which in Modern French is écoutille) or directly from the Spanish escotilla (hatchway), a diminutive of escota (opening in a garment), from escotar (cut out).  Scuttle & scuttling are nouns & verbs, scuttleful is a noun and scuttled is a verb; the noun plural is scuttles.

You're wrong.—He was the mildest manner'd man
That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat:
With such true breeding of a gentleman,
You never could divine his real thought;
No courtier could, and scarcely woman can
Gird more deceit within a petticoat;
Pity he loved adventurous life's variety,
He was so great a loss to good society.

Don Juan (1819–24) canto III, stanza XLI, by Lord Byron (1788–1824)

The figurative use to describe the sense of abandonment or destruction of the planning etc of something is recorded from 1888.  In military use this can be combined with the use of scuttle to describe a rapid, sometimes erratic crab-like walk suggestive of panic; the recent US evacuation from Kabul, would, in more robust times, have been called a scuttle.  The sense of "scamper; scurry" emerged in the mid-fifteenth century, probably related to the verb scud and perhaps influenced by the odd imperfect echoic.

A variation of the scuttle as a hole in the deck was scuttlebutt to describe a "cask of drinking water kept on a ship's deck, having a hole (scuttle) cut in it for a cup or dipper" is from 1805, supplanting the earlier (1777) “scuttle cask”.  Scuttlebutt is first recorded as meaning “rumor; gossip" in 1901 and was nautical slang before coming into general use late in World War I (1914-1918).  The modern corporate form, analogous with “gathering around the scuttlebutt” is the office “water-cooler” conversation.  The idea of information (accurate or otherwise) being associated with drinking water is doubtless as old as prehistoric people gathering at a drinking place and there’s the World War One era “furphy”, a descriptor of a rumor proved wrong, based on its origin being talk exchanged between soldiers having a yarn at one of the army’s Furphy brand water tanks.

Scuttle shake

The term scuttle shake is used to describe the shuddering displayed in many convertible cars, especially when traversing rough or uneven surfaces.   The vibrations happen because, without the strength provided by a fixed-roof, open-top automobiles generally are less structurally rigid than closed vehicles.  It’s called scuttle-shake because, although the scuttle (the area between the bonnet (hood) and the windscreen) is not the only place where the shuddering happens, it’s there where it’s usually most severe, often to the point where other vibrations tend not to be noticed.  The scuttle is affected because the erratic forces are generated through the tyres, to the chassis or frame to the point of the least structural rigidity: the bulkhead atop which sits the scuttle.  There is a transatlantic difference in that what most of the English-speaking world calls a scuttle is a cowl in US use.  Despite that, the term scuttle shake and cowl shake are both used in the US, probably because cars made there were always less susceptible to the phenomenon because the body-engineering standards were higher, Detroit always willing to add more bracing even at the cost of increasing overall weight.  It's speculative but perhaps it became so associated with foreign cars it was just natural to think scuttle and not cowl.

The archetypical scuttle shakers were the Triumph TR roadsters (TR2-TR6 1952-1976), the reputation gained because of the platform’s long life; although the TR6 bore no external resemblance to its earliest antecedents, much the same chassis and body structure underlay them all.  Many contemporaries of the TR2 and TR3 also suffered the problem but most manufacturers went through three or four generations in the quarter century the separate chassis TRs were produced, benefitting from the improvements in design and body engineering which passed by Triumph's aging roadster.  By the time the TR6 entered production in 1969, none of the competition still shook so much; that doesn’t mean that by the late twentieth century the problem went away but it was much ameliorated.  Notably, in the 1980s, generational shift, an improving economy and the non-appearance of the rumored US legislation which would have outlawed convertibles enticed some manufacturers back into the drop-top market so new models appears to demonstrate the difference.  Because volumes would be small, the development costs associated with new models was thought prohibitive so these were usually modified coupés.  Cutting the roof of a closed car is the classic recipe for scuttle shake but the techniques to strengthen structures had much improved over the years and the basic bodies were anyway inherently stronger because of the regulations imposed to improve crashworthiness.  Drivers could certainly tell the difference in body-rigidity but few were anything like a Triumph TR6 (unless it was a Saab 900; the Swedish car's convertible body was famously flexible).

Triumph TR2 (1953-1955).

After a similar looking prototype based on a pre-war platform was rejected, a redesign produced the TR2.  The specification was unpromising for a sports car; a hardly innovative ladder frame chassis, a two litre (122 cubic inch) engine based on one used in tractors (!), rudimentary weather protection and an already dated body but it was a success on both sides of the Atlantic.  On the road, it turned out to be greater than the sum of its parts, easily exceeding 100 mph (162 km/h) when that was something rare and, in the UK, it was the cheapest car which could make the claim.  Not delicate or in any way exquisite to drive ("agricultural" the usual description, perhaps a nod to the tractor engine), its characteristics were predictable by the standards of the time and it was soon effective in competition.  Over eight-thousand were built.

Triumph TR3 (1955-1962).

Essentially an updated TR2, the TR3 would be upgraded throughout its life in three identifiable generations although the factory regarded the changes as normal product development and never used different designations to distinguish between them (in the collector car market they're known as TR3, TR3A (1957) & TR3B (1962)).  Although still lacking many of the civilizing accruements buyers would soon expect, in its time the TR3 was a great sales hit and was campaigned successfully both by the factory teams and privateers in just about every category of competition for which it was eligible.  The advantages of using the tractor engine had become apparent in the TR2: the thing was both tuneable and close to indestructible if run by the book.  In the TR3, the usual English route to power (bigger carburetors, bigger valves, bigger ports and a more radical camshaft) was followed and 100 bhp (75 kw) was achieved.  Disk brakes, first used on the Factory Le Mans TR2s, were added to all but the earliest TR3s and the driving experience, despite the addition of rack and pinion steering, though offering nothing like the precision of the Italian competition, was rewarding if a little brutish (although the thing had gained respect and was now rarely called "agricultural").  Almost seventy-five thousand were built.

Triumph TRS with "sabrina" engine, Le Mans, 1960.

Like the TR2, the TR3 was a popular choice as a race car but by the late 1950s, the competitive cars from Britain, Italy and the US had been developed well beyond what the TR2 had tended to face earlier in the decade.  For various reasons, it wasn’t easy for European manufacturers to pursue the path to power and performance by adopting the American approach of big displacement so they chose the alternative: greater specific efficiencies & higher engine speeds.  In Italy, as early as 1954 Alfa Romeo had proved the once exotic double overhead camshaft (DOHC) configuration was viable in relatively low-cost, mass-production machines and even in England, MG’s MGA Twin Cam had been released, short-lived though it was.  Triumph’s cars had enjoyed much success, both in the marketplace and on racetracks but their engines were based on one used in a tractor and while legendary robust, it was tuneable only up to a point and that point had been reached, limiting its potential in competition.  The solution was a DOHC head atop the old tractor mill and this the factory prepared for their racing team to run in the 1959 Le Mans 24 Hour classic, naming the car in which it was installed the TR3S, suggesting some very close relationship with the road-going TR3 although it really was a prototype and a genuine racing car.  The engine used at Le Mans was called the “sabrina”.

Sabrina in some characteristic poses.

Norma Ann Sykes' (1936–2016 and better known by her stage name: Sabrina)  early career was as a model, sometimes in various stages of undress, but it was when in 1955 she was cast as a stereotypical “dumb blonde” in a television series she achieved national fame.  On stage or screen, she remained a presence into the 1970s and although without great critical acclaim although the University of Leeds did confer an honorary D.Litt (Doctor of Letters) for services to the arts so there was that.

The Le Mans campaigns with the sabrina Engine: TR3S (1959, left), TRS (1960, centre) and the TRS team crossing the line in formation for what was a "staged  photo-opportunity", none of the cars having completed the requisite number of laps to be classified a "finisher" (1960, right).  In 1961, all three went the distance, taking the "Teams Prize".  

Some resemblance in the mind's eye of an engineer: Sectional view of the sabrina.

The engine's original project code was 20X but an engineer's chance remark at the assembly bench caught on so "sabrina" it became.  Anatomically, the engineers were of course about right because the front sectional view of the sabrina engine’s internals do align with what Dr Vera Regitz-Zagrosek (b 1953; Professor of Cardiology at the University of Zurich), describes as “the bikini triangle”, that area of the female human body defined by a line between the breasts and from each breast down to the reproductive organs; it’s in this space that is found all the most obvious anatomical differences between male & female although the professor does caution that differences actually exist throughout the body, down to the cellular level.

Triumph used the sabrina engine for three consecutive years at Le Mans, encountering some problems but the reward was delivered in 1961 when all three cars completed the event with one finishing a creditable ninth, the trio winning that year’s team prize.  Satisfied the engine was now a reliable power-plant, the factory did flirt with the idea of offering it as an option in the TR sports cars but, because the differences between it and the standard engine were so great, it was decided the high cost of tooling up for mass production was unlikely to be justified, the projected sales volumes just not enough to amortize the investment.  Additionally, although much power was gained by adding the DOHC Hemi head, the characteristics of its delivery were really suited only to somewhere like Le Mans which is hardly typical of race circuits, let alone the conditions drivers encounter on the road.  As a footnote in Triumph’s history, it was the second occasion on which the factory had produced a DOHC engine which had failed to reach production.  In 1934 the company displayed a range-topping version of their Dolomite sports car (1934-1940), powered by a supercharged two litre (121 cubic inch), DOHC straight-8.  The specification was intoxicating and the lines rakish but, listed at more than ten times the price of a small family car, it was too ambitious for the troubled economy of the 1930s and only three were built.

Triumph TR4 (1962-1965).

Although the chassis and drive-train of the TR3 substantially were carried over, the TR4 received a new body, designed in Italy by Giovanni Michelotti's (1921–1980) design house, continuing what would prove a lucrative association for both the Italians and the British.  Modernised in function as well as form, the TR for the first time enjoyed wind-up windows and much improved ventilation as well as the novelty of the option of a kind of targa top, the first on the market although it was Porsche which decided to copyright the name.  To compensate for the increased weight, the engine was bored out to 2.1 litres (128 cubic inches) but the smaller version remained a factory option for those wished to run in competitions under the FIA’s 2.0 litre (122 cubic inch) rules, although, being a tractor engine and thus using wet cylinder liners, it wasn’t difficult for owners of a 2.1 to revert.

A 1965 Triumph TR4A appeared in Netflix's Lindsay Lohan film Irish Wish (2024) and the IMCDB (Internet Movie Cars Database) confirmed it was registered in Ireland (ZV5660, VIN:STC65CT17130C) as running the 2.1 litre version (17130C) of the engine.  The Triumph 2.1 is sometimes listed as a 2.2 because, despite an actual displacement of 2138 cm³, in some places the math orthodoxy is ignored and a "round up" rule applied, something done usually in jurisdictions which use displacement-based taxation or registration regimes, the "rounding up" sometimes having the effect of "pushing" a vehicle into a category which attracts a higher rate.  The lack of the "IRS" (independent rear suspension) badge on the trunk (boot) lid indicates the use of the live rear axle.

This time Triumph did create official version names as the specification changed.  In 1965, the TR4A was released, marked by a small power increase but, more significantly, independent rear suspension which necessitated a change to the rear of the chassis frame.  Improvements in tyre technology had increasingly exposed the limitations of the TR4’s live axle which, mounted on such a low chassis, offered only limited wheel travel, something disguised by the grip of the TR2-era tyres which tended predictably to slide but when fitted with modern radial-ply tyres, the loss of grip could be sudden and unexpected.  The IRS greatly improved the ride and raised the limits of adhesion, making for a safer road car but those using a TR4 in competition still opted for the live axle which offered more control in the hands of experts who preferred to steer with the throttle.  Many TR4As were actually fitted with the live axle, re-designed to accommodate the changes to the chassis.  Facing competition from much improved MG and Austin-Healy roadsters, sales suffered somewhat with around forty-thousand TR4s built.

Triumph TR5 (1967-1968 and sold in North America as the TR-250).

Visually almost identical to the TR4, the TR5 benefited from being powered by a 2.5 litre (153 cubic inch) version of Triumph’s (again almost indestructible) straight-six and in a first for a volume British manufacturer, it used Lucas mechanical fuel injection, tuned to a healthy 150 bhp (112 kw) (although even at the time many thought this seemed a little optimistic).  Again available with the clever targa (usually called the “Surrey Top” although the factory insisted the “surrey” was merely a the roof part of the whole system), the bigger engine meant the TR5 became a genuine 120 mph (195 km/h) car.

For the first time (and a harbinger of what lay ahead), TR5s built for the North American market differed significantly from most of those destined for the rest of the world.  Instead of fuel-injection, the new world cars breathed through a pair of Zenith-Stromberg carburetors and, to mark the debut of the 2.5 litre six, were named TR-250.  The combination of the loss of the fuel injection and the addition of the early anti-emissions plumbing did sacrifice power, the TR-250 rated at 111 bhp (81 kW) but performance was still slightly better than the TR4, the feeling being the US car’s official power was likely a more accurate number than the 150 bhp claimed for the TR5.  The TR5 was in production for only a short time and fewer than three-thousand were built, the importance of the US market illustrated by almost eight and a half thousand TR-250s being shipped during the same time.  The IRS was now fitted to all cars.

Triumph TR6 (1968-1976).

Like its predecessor, the TR6 was built with both fuel injection and carburetors but all were labelled TR6 regardless of destination, the US market and those with less developed infrastructure missing out on the newer system.  The car itself was almost unchanged underneath but new front and rear styling was grafted onto the TR4/TR5 centre section, styled this time by Karmann of Germany so it was English underneath, Italian in the middle and German to the front and rear.  The targa top was retired, replaced by a hardtop designed in-house and the restyle, universally praised as ruggedly handsome, was well received.

Although the factory labelled the whole run as TR6, such were the variations over the years that Triumph nerds differentiate several (informal) versions, some based on detail differences and some on significant changes in specification.  All models produced for the North-American market used carburetors (the mechanical fuel-injection system unable to comply with the more onerous emission rules), delivering 104 bhp (78 kw) and this configuration was used also in some export markets because of anticipated difficulties in servicing the Lucas equipment in countries with a less developed infrastructure.  The home market and most other export cars used fuel injection which, again rated at 150 bhp, delivered almost identical performance to the TR5.  In 1972, the fuel-injected cars were re-tuned with a milder camshaft, lower compression ratio and smaller inlet valves, the factory revising the claimed power to 125 bhp (94 kw) although performance barely suffered, hinting the new claim might be more accurate than the old.  The engine revisions suited the motoring conditions of the day, traffic volumes now much heavier and the re-tuned engine delivered its power over a wider range, the slight sacrifice in top-end performance noticed by few.

A home market 1974 TR6 in magenta, one of the more appealing of the wide range of color choices (some of the hues of brown not fondly remembered) British Leyland offered during the 1970s (left) and a 1976 US market TR6 (right).  The revised detailing at the front was a consequence of needing to install more substantial bumpers to comply with legislation, the rubber dagmars fitted also at the rear.  Unusually for the smaller British roadsters of the era, air-conditioning was sometimes fitted to the US market cars.

Compared with genuinely modern sports cars like the Datsun 240Z or even the flawed Jensen-Healy, the TR6 was antiquated but so immensely satisfying to drive, buyers seemed not to mind and sales remained strong, the end coming only because it was clear it soon would no longer be possible to modify the thing to meet upcoming US legislation.  At the end of its seven year run, it was the most successful of the traditional TRs, well over ninety-thousand made of which over eighty-three thousand were exported.  Although the TR6 was not visually recognizable as a descendent of the TR2, one thing remained constant throughout: scuttle shake.

Spat

Spat (pronounced spat)

(1) A petty quarrel; a dispute.

(2) A light blow; a slap or smack (now rare).

(3) A classic footwear accessory for outdoor wear (technically an ankle-length gaiter), covering the instep and ankle, designed to protect these areas from mud & stones etc which might be splattered (almost always in the plural).

(4) In automotive design, a piece of bodywork on a car's fender encapsulating the aperture of the wheel-arch, covering the upper portion of the wheel & tyre (almost always on the rear) and used variously to reduce drag or as a aesthetic choice.  In the US, these tend to be called "fender skirts".

(5) In aviation, on aircraft with fixed undercarriages, a partial enclosure covering the upper portion of the wheel & tyre, designed to reduce drag.

(6) In zoology, a larval oyster or similar bivalve mollusc, applied particularly when one settles to the sea bottom and starts to develop a shell; young oysters collectively, especially seed oysters.

1350-1400: From the Middle English spat (argument, minor scuffle), from the Anglo-Norman spat, of unknown origin but presumed related either to (1) being the simple past tense & past participle of spit or (2) something vaguely imitative of the sound of a dispute in progress.  In use, a spat implies a dispute which is minor and brief.  That doesn’t preclude violence being involved but the word does tend to be applied to matters with few serious consequences but a spat can of course escalate to something severe at which point it ceases to be a spat and becomes a brawl, a fight, a murder, a massacre or whatever the circumstances suggest is appropriate.  Otherwise, a spat is synonymous with words like bickering, brouhaha, disagreement, discord, falling-out, feud, squabble, tiff or argument.

As a descriptor of the short gaiter covering the ankle (which except in technical and commercial use is used only in the plural), use dates from 1779 as an invention of American English and a shortening of the trade-terms spatterdash (or splatterguard) (long gaiter to keep trousers or stockings from being spattered with mud), the construct being spatter + dash (or guard), the former the same idea as the noun dashboard which was a timber construction attached to the front of horse-drawn carriages to protect the passengers from mud or stones thrown up when the beasts were at a dash.  In cars, the use of the term dashboard persisted although the device both shifted rearward (aligned with the cowl (scuttle) & windscreen) and changed in function.  In aircraft where the link to horse-drawn transport didn’t exist, the preferred equivalent term became “instrument panel”.

Stanley Melbourne Bruce (front row, second from left) in spats, official photograph of his first cabinet, Melbourne, 1923.

Spats date from a time when walking in cities could be a messy business, paved surfaces far from universal.  As asphalt and concrete became commonplace in the twentieth century, spats fell from frequent use though there were those who clung to them as a fashion accessory.  Stanley Melbourne Bruce (1883–1967; prime minister of Australia 1923-1929) liked spats and wore them as late as the 1940s but historians of fashion note it's said nothing was more influential in their demise than George V (1865–1936; King of the United Kingdom 1910-1936) eschewing them after 1926.

However, despite losing the imprimatur of the House of Windsor (ex Saxe-Coburg and Gotha), when Disney in 1947 created Scrooge McDuck (the world's richest duck, noted for diving into his vast "money bin" to swim among the cash), spats must still have been associated with wealth and uncle Scrooge has almost always been depicted sporting a pair.

Spats (left) and gaiters (centre & right).  Historically, gaiters were either medium (mid-calf) or long (reaching to the knee) while the shorter variations, extending from ankle to instep, were known as spats.  In the fashion industry, the terms gaiters and spats are often used interchangeably and except among the equestrian and other horse-oriented crowds, they now exist only as a fashion item, improvements in the built-environment meaning the need for them as functional devices has diminished.  They days, spats tend to be seen only in places like the Royal Enclosure at Ascot or smart weddings (used as a wealth or class signifier) although variations are still part of some ceremonial full-dress military uniforms.  Technically, a spat probably can be called a “short” or “ankle-length” gaiter but it’s wise to use “spat” because gaiters are understood as extending higher towards the knee.

Lindsay Lohan in SCRAM bracelet (left), the SCRAM (centre) and Chanel's response from their Spring 2007 collection (right).

Spats for the twenty-first century: Before Lindsay Lohan began her “descent into respectability” (a quote from the equally admirable Mandy Rice-Davies (1944-2004) of MRDA fame), Lindsay Lohan inadvertently became of the internet’s early influencers when she for a time wore a court-ordered ankle monitor (often called “bracelets” which etymologically is dubious but rarely has English been noted for its purity).  At the time, many subject to such orders often concealed them under clothing but Ms Lohan made her SCRAM (Secure Continuous Remote Alcohol Monitor) a fashion statement, something that compelled the paparazzi to adjust their focal length to ensure her ankle of interest appeared in shots.  The industry responded with its usual alacrity and “ankle monitor” purses were soon being strutted down the catwalks.

Chanel's boot-mounted ankle purse in matching quilted black leather.

In one of several examples of this instance of Lohanic influence on design, in their Spring 2007 collection, Chanel included a range of ankle bags.  Functional to the extent of affording the wearing a hands-free experience and storage for perhaps a lipstick, gloss and credit card (and the modern young spinster should seldom need more), the range was said quickly to "sell-out" although the concept hasn't been seen in subsequent collections so analysts of such things should make of that what they will.  Chanel offered the same idea in a boot, a design actually borrowed from the military although they tended to be more commodious and, being often used by aircrew, easily accessible while in a seated position, the sealable flap on the outer calf, close to the knee.

On the Jaguar 2.4 & 3.4 (1955-1959, top row; later retrospectively named Mark 1), full-sized spats were standard equipment when the standard wheels were fitted but some owners used the cut-down versions (available in at least two designs) fitted when the optional wire wheels were chosen.  For use in competition, almost all drivers removed the spats.  The Mark 2 (bottom row;1959-1969) was never fitted with the full-size units but many used slimmer version available from both the factory and third-party suppliers; again, in competition, spats in any shape were usually discarded.  On the big Jaguars, spats (which had already been scalloped) disappeared after production of the Mark IX ended in 1961.    

On cars, it wasn’t until the 1930s that spats (which some English manufacturers called "aprons" and in the US they came to be called “fender-skirts” though the original slang was “pants”) began to appear as the interest in streamlining and aerodynamic efficiency grew and it was in this era they became also a styling fad which, for better and worse, would last half a century.  They’d first been seen in the 1920s as aerodynamic enhancements on speed record vehicles and some avant-garde designers experimented with enveloping bodywork but it was only late in the decade that the original style of separate mudguards (later called cycle-fenders) gave way to more integrated coachwork where the wheel-arch was an identifiable feature in the modern sense.  Another issue was that the early tyres were prone to wear and damage and needed frequently to be changed, hence the advantage of making access to the wheels un-restricted.  In the 1930s, as streamlining evolved as both a means to reduce drag (thus increasing performance and reducing fuel consumption) and as a styling device, the latter doubtlessly influenced by the former.  On road cars, spats tended to be used only at the rear because of the need to provide sufficient clearance for the front wheels to turn although there were manufacturers (Delahaye, Nash and others) which extended use to the front and while this necessitated compromise (notably the turning circle and cooling of the brakes), there were some memorable art-deco creations.

The aerodynamic advantages were certainly real, attested by the tests conducted during the 1930s by Mercedes-Benz and Auto-Union, both factories using spats front and rear on their land-speed record vehicles, extending the use to road cars although later Mercedes-Benz would admit the 10% improvement claimed for the 1937 540K Autobahn-kurier (highway cruiser) was just “a calculation” and it’s suspected even this was more guesswork than math.  Later, Jaguar’s evaluation of the ideal configuration to use when testing the 1949 XK120 on Belgium roads revealed the rear spats added about 3-4 mph to top speed though they precluded the use of the lighter wire wheels and did increase the tendency of the brakes to overheat in severe use so, like many things in engineering, it was a trade-off.

1958, 1959 & 1960 Chevrolet Impalas.  Not actually wildly popular when new, accessory spats now often appear on restored cars as a “period accessory”.

In the post-war years, concerns with style rather than specific aerodynamic outcomes probably prevailed.  In the US especially, the design motifs borrowed from aircraft and missiles (where aerodynamic efficiency was important and verified in wind tunnels) were liberally applied to automobiles but in some cases, although they actually increased drag, they anyway appeared on production cars because they lent the desired look.  Because they added to the cost of production, spats tended often to be used on the more expensive ranges, this association encouraging after-market accessory makers to produce them, often for models where they’d never been available as a factory fitting or option.  Although now usually regarded as naff (at least), there’s still some demand because they are fitted sometimes (often in conjunction with that other acquired taste period-accessory, the "Continental" spare-tyre kit) by those restoring cars from the era although the photographic record does suggest that when the vehicles were new, such things were vanishingly rare.

Spats vanished from cars made in the UK and Europe except among manufacturers (such as Citroën) which made a fetish of conspicuous aerodynamics and in the US, where they endured, increasingly they appeared in cut-down form, exposing most of the wheel with only the upper part of the tyre concealed.  By the mid 1990s spats appeared only on some of the larger US cars (those by then also down-sized from their mid-seventies peak) and none survived into the new century, the swansong the 1996 Cadillac DeVille.  However, the new age of efficiency did see a resurgence of interest with spats (some actually integrated into the bodywork rather than being detachable) used on some electric and hybrid vehicles where every possible way of optimizing the use of energy is deployed.

1 1937 Mercedes-Benz 540K Autobahn-kurier
2 1937 Mercedes-Benz W125 Rekordwagen
3 1937 Auto-Union Type C Stromlinie
4 1939 Mercedes-Benz W154 Rekordwagen
5 1939 Mercedes-Benz T80 Rekordwagen
6 1940 Mercedes-Benz 770K Cabriolet B
9 1970 Porsche 917 LH
8 1988 Jaguar XJR9

1939 Mercedes-Benz T80, Mercedes-Benz Museum, Stuttgart, Germany.

Designed by Ferdinand Porsche (1875–1951), the Mercedes-Benz T80 was built between 1937-1939 to lay siege to the world land speed record (LSR) but with the outbreak of World War II (1939-1945), the attempt was never made.  It was a single-purpose machine designed to achieve maximum terminal velocity and for that reason, the T80 was an exercise in pure functionalism; not one nut or bolt was used other than for the purpose of ensuring its top speed would be as high as possible.  Cognizant of the existing record, the initial goal was 550 km/h (342 mph) but as others in the late 1930s raised the mark, so were Professor Porsche’s ambitions and when the final specification was set in 1939, the target was 650 km/h (404 mph) (not 750 km/h (466 mph) as is sometimes quoted).  Configured with six wheels, the T80 would have used a supercharged, fuel-injected, 44.5 litre (2716 cubic inch) Daimler-Benz DB 603 inverted V12 aero-engine, an enlarged version of the DB 601 which powered a number of Messerschmitts and other warplanes.  Intended for use in bombers, the T80’s engine was actually the third DB 603 prototype and was initially tuned to generate some 2237 kW (3000 horsepower) on an exotic cocktail of methyl alcohol (63%), benzene (16%), ethanol (12%), acetone (4.4%), nitrobenzene (2.2%), avgas (2%), and ether (0.4%) with MW (methanol-water) injection for charge cooling and as an anti-detonant.  This was more than twice the output of the Hurricanes, Spitfires and Messerschmitts which in 1940 fought the Battle of Britain but Porsche’s calculations suggested 2,574 kW (3,500 hp) would be needed to touch the 650 km/h target and the DB 603 would have been re-tuned to achieve this as an “emergency war rating”.

1939 Mercedes-Benz T80, Mercedes-Benz Museum, Stuttgart, Germany.

Some 8 metres (26 feet) in length with two of the three axles providing drive, the weight when fuelled and crewed was some 2600 kg (2.9 short tons) while the measured coefficient of drag (CD) was reported at 0.18, an impressive figure for such a thing as late as the 1990s and it would have been lower still, had wind-tunnel testing not revealed the need to add two small “winglets” to provide sufficient down-force to ensure the shape didn’t at speed assume the characteristics of an aeroplane and "try to take off" and notably, when in 1964 the Bluebird-Proteus CN7 set the flying mile record at 403.1 mph (648.7 km/h), it was the first LSR machine to include “ground effect” technology to reduce lift.  Fundamentally, the aerodynamics are thought sound although there would be the usual vulnerability to cross-winds, the cause of several deaths in such attempts and the surface conditions of what was a temporarily closed public road would also have been critical; whether the tyre technology of the time would have been adequate under such conditions will never be known.  Had the T80 been run on the long, flat straights of the salt flats in the US (Bonneville) or Australia (Lake Eyre), the prospects of success would have been better but for propaganda purposes (always a theme for the Nazis) the LSR runs had to be on German soil.

Bluebird-Proteus CN7, Lake Eyre, Australia, 1964.

The plan was for the attempt to be staged in January 1940 during what the regime dubbed RekordWoche (Record Week) on a section of the Berlin-Halle-Leipzig autobahn (now part of the A9), closed for the occasion.  The legend is that Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) himself choose the nickname Schwarzer Vogel (Black Bird) but that too may have been propaganda.  The design was all done in the era of slide rules and although some computer work has been applied to emulating the event, there’s no consensus on whether the T80 really would have hit 650 km/h and set the world land speed record (LSR).  As it was, it wasn't until November 1965 that the 650 km/h mark was reached by a machine powered by four fuel injected Chrysler 426 cubic inch (7.0 litre) hemi V8s.  On the Bonneville Salt Flats, it recorded a two-way average of 658.526 km/h (409.277 mph).

Ground effects: 1970 Chaparral 2J (the "sucker car"). 

The most extraordinary vindication of the concept was probably the 1970 Chaparral 2J, built for the Canadian-American Challenge Cup (the Can-Am, a series for unlimited displacement sports cars under the FIA’s minimalist Group 7 rules).  Although using a similar frame and power-plant (the all aluminum, 427 cubic inch (7.0 litre) Chevrolet V8 (ZL1)) as most of its competition, it differed in that the bodywork was rather more rectilinear, the transmission was semi-automatic and, most intriguingly, the use of two small auxiliary engines (Rockwell JLO 247 cm³ two-stroke, two-cylinder units which usually powered snowmobiles).  Unlike the auxiliary engines used in modern hybrids which provide additional or alternative power, what the Rockwells did was drive two fans (borrowed from the M-109 Howitzer, the US Army’s self-propelled 155 mm (6 inch) cannon) which pumped air from underneath at 9650 cfm (cubic feet per minute) (273 m3 per minute), literally sucking the 2J to the road, the technique enhanced by a Lexan (a thermoplastic polymer) skirt which partially sealed the gap between the shell and the road.  The rear spats (integrated into the body-shell) were part of the system, offering not only their usual contribution to reduced drag but increasing the extent of the suction generated by the extractor fans.  The 2J was immediately faster than the competition but the suction system proved fragile although, as a proof of concept it worked and it was clear that only development was needed to debug things.  Unfortunately, innovation and high speeds have always appalled the FIA (the Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile which has for decades been international sport’s dopiest regulatory body) and they banned the 2J.  Really, the FIA should give up on motorsport and offer their services to competitive crochet where they can focus on things like pins and needles not being too sharp.

1949 Delahaye 175-S Saoutchik roadster (left), 1967 Cadillac Fleetwood Sixty Special  (centre) & 2016 Rolls-Royce Vision Next 100 (electric) (right).

Fashions change and spats in the post-war years became unfashionable except in the odd market segment which appealed to an older demographic and even there, as the years were by, they were cut-away, revealing more of the wheel & tyre but they never entirely went away and designers with big computers now don’t even need even bigger wind tunnels to optimize airflow and spats have been displayed which are mounted vertically, some even responding to dynamic need by shifting location or direction.

Flown first in 1938 and named after the Spartan admiral Lysander (circa 467-395 BC), the Westland Lysander was a British army co-operation and communications aircraft used extensively during the Second World War (1939-1945).  Although it couldn’t match the extraordinary STOL (short Take-Off & Landing) performance of the its German contemporary the Fieseler Fi 156 Storch, it was capable, robust and had a good enough short-field capability to perform valuable service throughout the conflict.  Like many aircraft with a fixed undercarriage, partially enveloping spats were fitted to reduce drag but those on the Lysander had the unusual feature of being fitted with their own removable spats (similar to those used on automobiles).  Once these were dismounted, assemblies could be fitted to mount either Browning machine guns or stub wings which could carry light bombs or supply canisters.  The arrangement was popular with ground crew because the accessibility made servicing easy and pilots appreciated the low placement because the change in weight distribution had little adverse effect on handling characteristics.

Rigger

Rigger (pronounced rig-er)

(1) A person who rigs.

(2) A person whose occupation is the fitting of the rigging of ships.

(3) A person who works with hoisting tackle, cranes, scaffolding etc (the protective or supporting structures on or around construction sites).

(4) A mechanic skilled in the assembly, adjustment, and alignment of aircraft control surfaces, wings, and the like (eg parachute rigger); a person skilled in the use of pulleys, lifting gear, cranes etc.

In rowing, rowing a bracket on a racing shell or other boat to support a projecting rowlock or other fixed fulcrum.

(6) In digital animation, one whose occupation is to outfit a computer model with controls for animation.

(7) One who rigs or manipulates (an election, a market etc).

(8) A plastic bottle of beer, typically between with a volume between 1.0-2.5 litres (1-2.6 quarts) (New Zealand).

(9) In (usually graphic) art, a long, slender, pointed sable paintbrush for making fine lines etc; said to be so called from its use for drawing the lines of the rigging of ships.

(10) In the role-playing behavior of sadomasochism, a person who applies functional or artistic rope or strap bondage to another person's body.

(11) A cylindrical pulley or drum in machinery.

(11) One whose occupation is to lift and move large and heavy objects (such as industrial machinery) with the help of cables, hoists, and other equipment.

1490s: The construct was rig + -er.  Rig was from the Early Modern English rygge, probably of North Germanic origin and related to the Danish & Norwegian rigge (to bind up; wrap around; rig; equip), the Swedish dialectal rigga (to rig (harness) a horse) and the Faroese rigga (to rig; to equip and fit; to make function”).  The source was perhaps the Proto-Germanic rik- (to bind), from the primitive Indo-European rign- reig-, & reyg- (to bind) or it was related to the Old English wrīhan, wrīohan, wrēohan & wrēon (to bind; wrap up; cover) which are linked also to wry (to cover; clothe; dress; hide).  The late fifteenth century verb rig was originally nautical in the sense of "to fit (a ship) with necessary tackle; to make (a ship) ready for sea" and gained the extended sense of "dress, fit out with, furnish with, provide (with something) emerged in the 1590s; that of "to adjust, put in condition for use, set in working order" is from circa 1625.

The slang meaning "pre-arrange or tamper with results" is attested from 1938, although the noun rig (a trick, swindle, scheme) had been used as early as (1775) and, apparently unrelated was the meaning "sport, banter, ridicule" dating from 1725.  The phrase “to rig the market” was used, firstly in stock exchange c=slang and later more generally to convey the idea very familiar in modern times: "raise or lower prices artificially to one's private advantage".  One use as a verb which faded was that meaning "ransack", from the 1560s.  It’s strange rig & rigger took that long apparently top evolve given rigging was known as a verb meaning "action of fitting (a ship) with ropes” circa 1400 and as a noun meaning "the ropes that work the sails of a ship" from the 1590s.  It may be rig and rigger in this context existed in oral use.  The use in nautical & naval architecture to describe the "distinctive arrangement of sails, masts etc on a ship; the characteristic manner of fitting the masts and rigging to the hull of any vessel," without regard to the hull is documented from 1769 although a number of sources insist the first use was in 1822, probably because that’s the earliest known reference in Admiralty papers.

Use extended to costumes, and clothing outfits (especially if as a fanciful description) by 1843.  In engineering, it was widely used to describe just about any creation added for some purpose but was by 1831 most associated with horse-drawn vehicles and this was later adopted to refer to trucks, buses etc, a use still common today, especially for large trucks.  In oil extraction, the apparatus used for well-sinking was known as a rig as early as 1875.  Rig was 1570s slang for “a wanton girl or woman" which, although long obsolete had had the odd idiosyncratic revival; it was probably related to the also obsolete use from the same era describing "to play the wanton; to romp about".  As a noun, a rigger by 1610 was "one who rigs ships", that sense later adopted to describe aircraft mechanics (1912) and those employed on oil rigs (1949).

The –er suffix was from the Middle English –er & -ere, from the Old English -ere, from the Proto-Germanic -ārijaz, thought usually to have been borrowed from Latin –ārius and reinforced by the synonymous but unrelated Old French –or & -eor (the Anglo-Norman variant was -our), from the Latin -(ā)tor, from the primitive Indo-European -tōr.  The –er suffix was added to verbs to create a person or thing that does an action indicated by the root verb; used to form an agent noun.  If added to a noun it usually denoted an occupation.

Flying Cloud (launched 1851) (1921) drawing by George Robinson, National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London.

“Square-rigged” ships are those with (approximately) square sails rigged onto horizontal spars attached to perpendicular masts, sitting therefore square to the keel.  The spars are known also as yards and their tips, beyond the last point of attachment (or stay) are called yardarms, the part of a rig associated with the phrase “hung (ie hanged) from the yardarm”, in folklore the Admiralty’s preferred means of executing death sentences though practiced less frequently than the legend suggests.  The square-rig formation evolved as the standard ocean-going form because, when sailing downwind, it’s aerodynamically the most efficient shape which survived into the steam age, many of the early steam-ships (including naval vessels) constructed as hybrids which combined powered propulsion with square-rigged sails.  To reduce running costs and carbon emissions, there’s now a renewed interest in using sails (or sail-like structures) on commercial vessels to augment the power from oil-based engines.  Square was from the Middle English square, sqware & squyre, from the Old French esquarre & esquerre, (which persists in modern French as équerre), from the Vulgar Latin exquadra, the construct being ex- (from Middle English, from words borrowed from the Middle French, from the Latin ex (out of, from), from the primitive Indo-European eǵ- & eǵs- (out)).  It was cognate with the Ancient Greek ἐξ (ex) (out of, from), the Transalpine Gaulish ex- (out), the Old Irish ess- (out), the Old Church Slavonic изъ (izŭ) (out) & the Russian из (iz) (from, out of).  The “x” in “ex-“, sometimes is elided before certain constants, reduced to e- (eg ejaculate)) +‎ quadro, from quadrus (square), from quattuor (four).

The square-rigger MGs

1949 Jaguar XK-120 OTS (Aluminum body).

The “square rigger” sports car was one made in the style which evolved in the 1920s and 1930s, characterized by the upright, angular lines of its many disparate parts, the point of comparison being the classic big ships of the sail age.  The term came into use in the immediate post-war years to differentiate these old-style sports cars from the new, modernist generation, typified by the Jaguar XK-120, which featured lower profiles and curvaceous, flowing lines.  The term is thus often used casually to apply to any sports car of the old, pre-war style.

1958 Citroën DS19 Décapotable Cabriolet d'Usine by Henri Chapron.

In the post-war years, the term “square rigger” came most to be associated with the T series MGs.  Replacing the P series which in two models had run between 1934-1936, the T series was, excluding the war years, in production between 1936 and 1955, the year Citroën introduced the DS which provides a comparison as amusing as the XK-120.  Somewhere during those two decades the cars descended into obsolescence but their attraction lay in their charm and the sheer entertainment they delivered, offering an intimate and tactile experience which belied their miniscule power and performance which was, at least in a straight line, modest when compared even to mundane family cars of the era.   

MG PA Midget (1934-1935, 1973 built)

1934 MG PA Midget.

The P series Midget replaced the rather more exotic J series and although the relationship to previous models was obvious, the P was well-received and thought much improved.  The new overhead camshaft (OHC) 847 cm³ (52 cubic inch) engine attracted particular praise, the revised lubrication and induction system delivering a willing and lively character well suited to a sports car.  Knowing many customers would use them for competition, MG installed a strengthened four-speed gearbox and heavy-duty clutch, drivers assisted in their ability to harness the additional performance by brakes fifty percent larger.  It featured also one of the first safety innovations (a thing that would in coming decades become an accelerating trend), a flat-fold windscreen made from toughened non-discolourable “Triplex safety glass".

1935 MG PA Midget Airline coupé by H W Allingham of London.

The P series was offered in the colors which would come to be associated with the marque (Ulster Green, Dublin Green, Oxford Blue, Cambridge Blue, Carmine Red & Saratoga Red) but the most popular choice remained gloss-black.  The standard factory bodies were the two-seater roadster and four-seat tourer but specialist coachbuilders made available more elaborate drophead coupés (DHC) although the style most memorable was Allingham’s Airline Coupé although, being as expensive as many larger vehicles, few were ordered.  At the time of release, the factory listed the two seater at Stg£220, the four seater an additional Stg£20; the Airline cost Stg£290.

The three 1935 MG PAs of the "Dancing Daughters", Brooklands, 1935, prior to departure for Le Mans.

Unlike many of its predecessors, the factory didn’t envisage a competition programme for the P series but a three-car team was entered in the 1935 24 hour Le Mans race. Remarkably, the drivers were six young ladies, bright young things soon dismissively dubbed "The Dancing Daughters" by the even then nasty British tabloids, the reference being to a popular BBC radio programme of the time (a broadcast of a troupe of teenage tap-dancers, perhaps a challenging concept for radio although, in the studio, the girls were costumed skimpily “to get the atmosphere”).  They attracted much publicity but little success, the cars under-powered for such a circuit.

MG PB Midget (1935-1936, 525 built)

1936 MG PB Midget.

The Le Mans experience in part prompted the more powerful PB which was introduced in 1935, the engine was enlarged to 939 cm³ (57 cubic inch) and a close ratio gearbox was fitted.  There were detail changes too, one of which the consequence of an early example of environmental legislation.  In 1935, fearing an ancient species was under threat, the US government banned the export of Sequoia redwood timber so the PB’s dashboard was instead finished in the more familiar burr walnut.  Very much a transitional model, the PB was available only briefly but its debut depressed interest in the PA to the extent that not even a substantial price was enough of an inducement to buyers so the factory converted the two-dozen odd remaining PAs to PBs, both variants sold for the same Stg£222.  Production of the PB ended in February 1936.

MG TA Midget (1936-1939, 3,003 built)

1937 MG TA Midget.

Corporate restructurings are nothing new and nor is the tyranny of the cost-accountant.  In 1935, the MG Car Company was sold to Morris Motors and in the inevitable agonizing reappraisal which ensued, MG lost its autonomy and became a corporate badge and one expected to deliver a better return on capital: profits had to be higher.  The first sacrifice was the competition department, followed almost immediately by the MG design office and the cancellation of the spirited little OHC engine which had given the PA & PB so much of their sporting character.  It was a harbinger, a rationalization which would spread and over decades drive almost all the UK’s motor industry to extinction.  Under new management, the design imperatives were now profitability, simplicity of production and uniformity in parts to maximize interchangeability between ranges.

1938 MG TA DHC by Tickford.

The purists were thus not hopeful but the T series, released in 1936 was the first in a successful line which would be in production for a dozen-odd years, the run till 1955 interrupted only by six war years during which MG’s industrial capacity was given over to military needs.  The T might not have had the OHC engine but the overhead valve (OHV) pushrod unit which replaced it, although borrowed from a pedestrian little saloon, was a larger 1292 cm³ (79 cubic inch) and generated some 50 horsepower, a useful increase over the 36 & 43 the P series engines had managed and delivered it in a more effortless manner than its smaller predecessors which actually made it more suitable for both the road and in competition.  Longer and wider, the T was much more spacious and the hydraulic brakes were a welcome addition, all for the same Stg£222 as the PB. 

1936 MG TA Midget Airline coupé by H W Allingham of London.

The T series made the Midget suddenly civilized although, as part of the corporate rationalization, factory coachwork was limited to a single two-seat roadster but separate chassis were still supplied to coachbuilders and Tickford (the brand of Salmons and Sons (1830)), produced some two hundred and fifty elegant DHCs with such luxuries as wind-down windows, full carpeting and a clever convertible top which could be closed, partially open or fully thrown back.  The Airline style was reprised by Allingham, Whittingham & Mitchel and Carbodies and although much-admired, being still expensive, only a handful were built.  Despite the misgivings, the T proved a great success and was built until 1939 when it was replaced by the TB which included a new engine which would become one of the most storied in MG’s history: the XPAG.

MG TB Midget (1936, 379 built).

1939 MG TB Midget.

By May 1939, war clouds were gathering over Europe and Finnegans Wake by James Joyce (1882–1941) was published.  Into this strange and uncertain environment, MG released the TB, visually apparently as little changed from the TA as the PB had been from its predecessor but under the louvered bonnet now sat the new XPAG engine which would until 1955 power just about every MG made and provide numerous builders of race cars with a light, robust and tunable power-plant, one which would see some of the specials it powered top 200 mph (320 km/h).  Over the years, extraordinary power outputs were achieved, the tough little engine able to withstand supercharging at pressures which broke many others.  Totally new, although a slightly smaller 1250 cm³ (76 cubic inch), there was now a bigger bore which lent itself to a sportier state of tune but, under the dopey calculation of the time, attracted a higher tax-rate.  With the introduction of the TB, the designation TA was applied to the earlier car which hitherto had been known simply as the T series, the same act of retrospective re-christening which had turned P into PA.  The TB was priced at Stg£225 for the 2 seater and Stg£270 for Tickford’s DHC but there would be no more of the exquisite Airlines. 

1939 MG TB Midget.

The XPAG restored some of the character of the old OHC engine, the bigger bore and shorter stroke delivering the maximum 55 horse power at 5,250 rpm against the 4,500 rpm of the TA, performance generally improved in all aspects and made easier to exploit with the fitting of a new four-speed gearbox which included synchromesh on all but the lowest ratio.  The TB was in production for only a few months before the declaration of war in September; the brochures for the 1940 model-year were actually ready for printing and the range had been announced when production was abruptly halted after 379 TBs had been completed.  Rapidly, the Abingdon factory was cleared of all the machinery of car assembly and devoted for the duration to parts for aircraft, machine guns and the servicing of tanks and trucks.  In hibernation for six years, the TB would return in what would prove to be a new world and it would be called the TC. 

MG TC (1945-1949, 10,001 built).

1947 MG TC.

On both sides of the Atlantic, the cars released in the early post-war years were almost all barely revised versions of those last available before the outbreak of hostilities.  The MG TC, the first of which left Abingdon in 1945 actually was structurally more different from the TB than most of the cars of 1945-1946 were from their predecessors because the passenger compartment had been widened by four inches (100 mm), creating more interior space without the need otherwise to alter the body or chassis.  Other than that and some detail mechanical and electrical upgrades, it was essentially a re-birth of the same basic design as the TA of a decade earlier.  Despite that, just resuming production to the extent of the few dozen examples completed before the end of 1945 was something of an achievement given the chronic shortages of steel and other raw materials or components.

1948 MG TC.

Immediately, it was an outstanding success.  The UK’s new government understood the parlous state of the nation’s finances and extorted the manufacturing sector with the simple mantra “export or die” and MG responded, much early TC production allocated to the export trade.  The volume of sales to the Commonwealth’s southern dominions (Australia, New Zealand & South Africa) had been expected because these had been receptive markets in the pre-war years but what was surprising was the demand from the United States and Canada, triggered it was suspected by the number of returning servicemen who had so enjoyed or at least yearned for the little sports cars during their time in the UK.  Although only 2000 of the 10,001 TCs made went to the US, the interest was enough for the factory to do a run of US-specific models (still all right-hand-drive) and it was the TC which whetted the American appetite for small sports cars and in the 1950s, MG would benefit from what became something of a craze, one which the square-riggers and their successors would for decades exploit.

MG TD (1949-1953, 29,644 built)

1950 MG TD.

The TD was the most popular of the T series and was the car which both established the brand in the US and encouraged others to realize the sports car craze was real and thus a market segment to explore.  From what General Motors initially regarded as the improbable success of the TC and TD, would come first the tentative toe in the water that was the Chevrolet Corvette show-car and later the long line of production cars which, over eight generations, continues to this day.  The TC however was, even before it was discontinued in 1949, a museum-piece, if an entertaining one, and it was clear that for MG further to succeed in the US market would require a more modern interpretation of the sports car.  The budget was limited but the culture of simplicity of production and uniformity in parts to maximize interchangeability between ranges now proved advantageous, a small team allocated to develop a prototype using mostly what fell immediately to hand.  In what was a master-class in improvisation, they shortened by five inches (127 mm) and then stiffened the chassis of a MG YA saloon, grafted on an independent front suspension & rack and pinion steering, made the changes necessary to ensure it could easily be made with either left or right-hand drive and overlaid a (slightly) modernized rendering of the TC’s body.  The design team would have preferred to create something more sophisticated and certainly something which looked more contemporary but, given the constraints under which they worked, the TD was a good result, both as a piece of engineering and, more critically, one that made commercial sense.

1952 MG TD.

Underneath, the changes were transformative and they needed to be.  The TC’s platform was little changed from the cars of the 1930s, themselves just refinements of a decade-old concept and while antiquated even compared to its stop-gap contemporaries of 1945-1949, it looked prehistoric against the new generation models of the early 1950s.  The TD’s saloon-based chassis was hardly innovative but was rigid and well-executed with a modern arrangement for the independent front suspension and a rear-end which accommodated additional travel by sweeping the frame up over the axle instead leaving it underslung.  The XPAG engine differed in being derived from that used in Y type so included its improvements to lubrication and the attached accessories.  The most obvious change was to the body, substantially revised for the first time since 1936 and, while the stylistic legacy was apparent, was considerably wider and thus more spacious.  Structurally, the engineering was carried-over, body panels still mounted on the traditional wooden frame of English ash.

1953 MG TD.

A mix then of old and new as many products are.  Even though not one body-panel was unchanged and the interior fascia was new, the aesthetic was entirely square-rigger with cutaway doors, separate flowing front wings, running boards, stand-alone headlamps and the characteristically upright MG radiator with vertical slats.  As had been the motif since the 1920s, a centrally hinged bonnet, an exposed slab-sided fuel tank and a rear-mounted spare wheel carrier maintained the period-look.  Where modernity's intrusion was unobtrusive, such as the independent front suspension, it was welcomed but some changes attracted criticism from a few.  The sturdy chromium plated bumper-bars added weight which it had be MG’s practice to avoid but reflected the needs of the US market where sales were overwhelmingly in urban areas where owners shared parking spaces with domestic automobiles increasingly equipped with substantial bumpers with something of the quality of the battering ram.  Also controversial were the smaller diameter, pressed-steel disc wheels which replaced that sports-car staple, the TC’s tall, spindly spoked wire-wheels.  It was again the intrusion of the rationalists.  Because different wire-wheels would have had to be made to accommodate the arms and links of the rack and pinion steering, the corporation refused to authorize the design, tooling and production for a part unique to one, low-volume model.  The disc wheels actually offered advantages, being much easier to clean and not as prone to the damage and distortion the wire wheels suffered when used on secondary roads.

1952 MG TD (Eduardo Muñoz) and 1953 Porsche 1500 (Rezende Dos Santos), Vuelta de Aragua Road Circuit, Aragua State in Venezuela, 14 June, 1953.

The TD was much improved but there was a price to be paid.  Weighing some 200 lbs (90 KG) more than the TC while enjoying only the same 54 horsepower, the TD was less lively than its predecessor, something a change in gearing only partially disguised so for those who wished for more, in 1950 the factory made available a "competition" version with a higher compression ratio which delivered 62 horsepower, a useful increase of more than 10%.  Officially, the "competition" TD was sold only in markets where high-octane petrol could be purchased at the pump but dealers entered into arrangements with the factory so those with access to supplies of aviation fuel could enjoy the experience.  However, few had bought TCs for their outright performance numbers and the increasing gulf between the little sports cars and the ever more powerful vehicles which began to surround them seems not to have been sufficient to dampen demand, customers flocking to buy TDs upon its debut in 1949 and over its four-year run, some thirty-thousand would be build, most destined for the US market, sales encouraged somewhat by Sterling in September 1949 being devalued to US$2.80, an adjustment of around a third, correcting the absurd post-war maintenance of the Stg£1=US$4.03 peg set in 1940.

MG TF (1953-1955, 9600 built).

1953 MG TF 1250.

The TF was the last of the square-riggers.  It was also an accident of history, the result of corporate intrigue within the BMC (British Motor Corporation) conglomerate of which MG was one, small part and, even at the time, it was no secret the TF was a stop-gap model there to fill the showrooms with something (sort of) new before the arrival of the much anticipated MGA.  What had happened was the Healey company reached the BMC boardroom with a proposal for the Healey 100 before MG got there to make the case for the MGA and the board, thinking the two too similar to be released at the same time, put the MGA on hold.  It was emblematic of the way business would be done at BMC and the many successor corporations; Healey had pipped MG by several days, history for centuries recording how such luck influences events.  Thus evolved the TF, a just slightly less-square rigger launched into the age of the Citroën DS and Porsche 356; even the Triumph TR2 of the time making cutaway doors look less archaic.  The TD obviously couldn’t be made to look modern and the facelift it gained to bridge the gap between the square riggers and the sleek MGA was a quick job, essentially grafting the streamlining techniques of the 1930s to the once upright front, the headlamps now fared-into the wings, the same expedient Morgan had that same year been forced to adopt when Lucas advised there would no longer produce the separate housings; without the demand from MG, the economics of scale to maintain the product just in the low volume Morgan would absorb, no longer existed.  Mechanically, so little-changed was the TF that it could have be thought the TD Mark II had the appearance not so differed.  Visually refined with a sloping radiator grille that for the first time concealed a separate radiator, the bonnet now sloped forward, something achieved by lowering the radiator housing by three and a half inches (90 mm) in relation to the top of the scuttle, the view from the screen that of a Hurricane compared to the Spitfire-like TD.  The front wings with the now partially integrated headlamps were themselves fared into the bonnet sides in conventional streamlining style while the rear end gained modifications to the fuel tank and spare wheel mounting which resulted in a neater finish.  In a nod to tradition, perhaps to distract from other changes, the revised facia panel re-gained the octagonal instrumentation of the pre-war years, a nostalgic touch very well received, as was the return of the option of wire-wheels. 

1955 MG TF 1500.

The TF in 1953 was released using the faithful 1250 cm³ XPAG engine which dated back to the TB Midget in 1939 and there were many who hoped for and expected more.  Whatever aerodynamic improvement the streamlining had delivered, the TF was still barely able to top 80 mph (130 km/h) while the Triumph TR2 tempted many with the lure of the then rare “ton”: 100 mph (160 km/h).  It was still an appealing drive with fine road-holding and handling but was, by any standards, sluggish.  The factory were well aware of this and discussed exotic solutions such as aluminum components to improve the power to weight ratio but it didn’t take much thought to works out the solution was that the Americans had taught: a bigger engine with more power.  In mid 1954, the TF 1500 was released, using a 1466 cm³ (89 cubic inch), big-bore version of the XPAG, now designated XPEG, power increased to a more useful 63 horsepower.  While it didn’t permit the TF to match the pace of the TR2 or other competition, almost 90 mph (145 km/h) was now possible and the XPEG did stimulate demand, almost all the 3,400 TF 1500s shipped to the US.

MGA (1955-1962, 101,181 built)

MG Factory Competition Team with three MGAs (EX 182), Le Mans, 1955.

The TF was the end of MG’s square-rigger era, the introduction in 1955 of the MGA both long awaited and much overdue.  Neither mechanically nor stylistically was it ground-breaking and even during its lifetime would come to be thought old fashioned but at the time of release the sensuous, flowing lines were much admired and in the decades since, appreciation has increased, the MGA today a desirable classic.  It was powered by a 1489 cm³ (91 cubic inch) version of the corporate 'B' series engine and as a design exercise had actually been finalized some two years before it was introduced and slated to replace the TD but corporate politics prevailed.  By 1955, it had been intended to announce the MGA and use three pre-release cars (code-named EX 182) to contest the Le Mans 24 hour race in June.  That was thwarted by delays in the supply of parts so the three were forced to compete as prototypes rather than in the production class for which they'd been prepared.  Against the more formidable competition of pure race cars, success was unlikely but reliability was proved, one finishing an outright twelfth and the team finished a creditable fifth and sixth in their class although everything was overshadowed by the horrific crash that year which killed eighty-four, one of the MGs involved in the aftermath of the disaster.  Encouraged, three were entered in September’s RAC Tourist Trophy in Ulster, the fifth round of the FIA World Sports Car Championship, two with experimental double overhead camshaft (DOHC) engines, a configuration which later and unhappily would figure in MGA history.

1957 MGA 1500 Roadster.

First shown at the 1955 Frankfurt Motor Show, the MGA 1500 was an immediate success; some 60,000 built between 1955-1959, the great bulk of which were exported, the US again the most popular destination.  In 1956, the roadster was augmented by a fixed head coupé (FHC) which, in a sign of the times, included many of the refinements saloon buyers had come to expect including wind-up windows and lockable door handles which, while appreciated luxuries, did make the FHC about 100 lb (45 KG) heavier so acceleration suffered a little but, such were the vagaries of aerodynamics that top speed increased a little, a well tuned FHC able to attain the magic ton which just eluded the roadster, the owners of which turned to the multitude of tuners if they wanted more.

1957 MGA 1500 FHC.

Having earlier boosted the 1500 from 68 to 72 horsepower, the factory in 1959 again gave owners more, the engine enlarged to 1588 cm³ (97 cubic inch), the new model named MGA 1600, the additional 6 horsepower and the more relevant 17% increase in torque meaning the “ton” was now topped by all models and there was a dramatic improvement in braking, vastly superior (and really overdue) discs fitted at front.  Revisions to the suspension were part of normal product development but what was much appreciated on the roadster were the Perspex siding side windows which now sound primitive but were quite an improvement on the celluloid flaps used on the 1500.  In 1961, for the MGA’s swansong, capacity was again enlarged, this time to 1622 cm³ (99 cubic inch), additional internal changes boosting power to 90 horsepower, top speed now a heady 106 mph (170 km/h).  To mark the change, the factory designated the 1622-equipped cars the MGA Mark II, production of which totaled 8,198 roadsters and 521 FHCs.

MGA Twin Cam (1958-1960, 2111 built).

1959 MGA Twin Cam Roadster.

In the English way of things, the most famous and celebrated of the MGAs is the least successful and the one at the time damned as a failure.  The first MG since the OHC PB in 1936 not to use an OHV engine, the DOHC Twin Cam used an engine not fitted to any other car and in that sense of uniqueness ranks with the Triumph Stag in the annals of British engineering failures although MGs problems were at least (sort of) excusable given the analytical tools of the time and, as ultimately transpired, easily fixable, unlike Triumph’s unfortunate V8.  Although not used in the production MGA Twin Cam until 1958, the DOHC engine had enjoyed a long development, the basic design completed in 1954 and two prototype versions were in 1955 fielded for the RAC Tourist Trophy in Ulster and although not successful, the factory wasn’t deterred, refining the concept and using them to set world speed records in various classes in 1956 & 1957.  Critically however, most development work was in high-speed competition rather than the conditions under which most motorists operate their cars on public roads.  Using the 1588 cm³ block, the DOHC “B” series was in the classic mold of small 1950s high-performance engines: an aluminum cross-flow cylinder head with twin overhead camshafts operating valves angled at 80^o in hemispherical combustion chambers with a high compression ratio.  Twin 1 ¾ SU carburetors provided the induction while on the opposing side, an imposing exhaust manifold boasted separate downpipes for each cylinder.  The impressive specification yielded a healthy 108 bhp @ 6700 rpm and top speed was rated at 113 mph (180 km/h), testers reporting sparkling acceleration at all but the lowest speeds.  Cognizant of the pace, the factory fitted disc brakes on all four wheels and this time, wire wheels weren’t even optional, the required Dunlop Road Speed tyres suitable only for the ventilated Dunlop centre-lock disc wheels.  Radically different though it was under the skin, there were few visual differences to distinguish the Twin Cam from its more mundane cousins, an approach Mercedes-Benz would later adopt for its 300SEL 6.3 and 450SEL 6.9 Q-ships.  Only the purposeful wheels, discreet Twin Cam badges and some details changes to the interior (including a tachometer and speedometer that accommodated the higher limits) provided the external visual clues.

1959 MG Twin Cam FHC.

Like the Stag, the Twin Cam attracted praise upon release and, like the Stag, the reliability issues soon surfaced.  Reports emerged first of excessive oil consumption which fouled spark plugs and the factory experimented with several variations of piston rings before settling on the replacement of the top chrome ring with one of cast iron and a scraper with an expansion ring; these changes resulted in normal oil consumption.  What was not solved until the Twin Cam had been discontinued was what ruined its reputation and doomed the engine: the propensity to burn holes in the top of pistons #3 or #4.  Applying conventional wisdom, the factory first retarded the ignition timing, then, assuming owners were, contrary to operating instructions, using cheaper, lower octane petrol, lowered the compression ratio from 9.9:1 to 8.3:1, both changes reducing power in the quest for reliability, a trade-off well-known to engineers.  The sacrifice however failed to solve the problem and pistons continue to fail.  What baffled the engineers was they were unable to replicate the issue in their tests, even under sustained and extreme loadings.  Their tests however, while imposing demands beyond what any road car would be subjected to, were performed usually in a workshop, on a static test-bed.  By mid 1959, the factory gave up and the Twin Cam was withdrawn from sale, the engineers not discovering the cause until 1960 and those findings they chose not to publicize.  Later, amateurs would trace the problem to resonant vibration which, under conditions encountered when actually driving (as opposed to what happens under extreme load on a test-bed), at certain engine speeds, the SU carburetors would suffer foaming of the fuel in the float chamber which caused the fuel/air mixture to run lean, greatly increasing the heat in the combustion chamber causing the aluminum pistons to begin to melt.  The solution was no more complex than the insertion of flexible, vibration isolating mounts between the intake manifold and carburetors.  It was a cheap and simple fix.

1959 MGA Twin Cam FHC.

In 1960, MGs engineers had reached the same conclusion.  After disassembling several engines, they noted the balance of the production units was well below the levels of precision they had specified as a result of testing the prototypes, the production engines exhibiting two periods of natural vibration around 3200 and 5600 rpm.  With the stock gearing which most Twin Cams used, 3200 rpm coincided with what were then typical highway cruising speeds.  So, they returned to the test bed and, instead of pushing the engines beyond their limit, instead ran them to the point of vibration and found the float on the rear carburetor would hang on its spindle and not drop, inducing a lean mixture which burned holes in either #3 or #4 piston.  In minutes they improvised a flexible mounting using nothing more exotic than some thin sheet-rubber but the solution came too late, the discontinued Twin Cam’s reputation too sullied for a revival.  A decade on, much the same tale would be told of Norton’s 750 Combat.

1962 MGA 1600 Mark II “De luxe” Roadster.

So only 2,111 Twin Cams were sold, 1,801 of which were roadsters.  Making the best of a bad situation, the factory used the residual stockpile of Twin Cam bits and pieces (other than the engine) and created some up-graded models often referred to as the “De Luxe” which, although MG never formerly applied the designation, shameless dealers advertised them as the “Deluxe”, "De Luxe” or De-Luxe”.  Production was limited by the availability of parts and only 82 1600s were built, along with 313 of the more desirable Mk II 1622.  Except for the Dunlop wheels and four wheel disc brakes, there’s no commonality in the specification, some using a genuine Twin Cam chassis, some with the “hybrid” competition shell and a mix of other options while many were essentially standard MGAs differing only in the wheels and brakes.  Because of the rarity and upgraded specification, the “De luxe” models are now second only to the Twin Cam in desirability.

The other MGA: Lindsay Lohan at MGA Entertainment's "Bratz", 2003 Teen Choice Awards,  Universal Amphitheatre, Universal City, California.