Re: "Home - bodied" Singer project
I'm forwarding comments from the owner. Definitely worth sharing. I am humbled by his clarity of purpose and reflections on "what it's all about".
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Eric,
A couple of thoughts on the britishcarforum thread you started to memorialize my newly acquired quasi-Singer.
I find the well-intentioned but insouciant comments about cosmetic changes (e.g., running lights, headlights, bucket seats, altered scuttle) to be harmless, but more or less inapt against the backdrop of the British Special experience.
Consider the fact that in the Kaiser War English lads left the farms knowing how to tend sheep and came back knowing how to use wrenches. Prior to the War to End All Wars the English motoring industry catered exclusively to the rich and upper-upper middle class, and it was they who used cars for sporting purposes. The lower echelon rode bicycles or motorcycles, went to work on foot or in an omnibus, and took their holidays in a charabanc or a rail coach. For those folks, actually riding in a motorcar was an unusual and memorable experience.
After that war the British vehicle industry exploded as many small manufacturers scrambled to provide cheap transportation to the increasingly affluent masses. In part, they were able to do so because the end of hostilities in 1918 brought a lot of war surplus equipment and machine tools to the market at very reasonable prices. Lightcars and cyclecars proliferated and, because they were cheaply made, their useful life was short, they were easily broken, and then delegated to the breakers’ yards thereby providing a feed stock for special builders.
The primordial need to speed was expressed early on as time trials and hillclimbs became available with little need to invest large sums to compete. Photos of early scratch events show a preponderance of ordinary saloons ready on the starting lines. That quickly developed into two general categories of competition.
Military surplus was the source for a large number of aircraft engines. Those huge, slow-revving units, when married to the lengthened chassis and running gear of a large Victorian touring car supplied the Brooklands specials of 20+ liters that lapped the outer circuit at over 140 mph. For example, Count Zborowski’s Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang (Yes, Virginia, there was a Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang–indeed, there were three), used a pre-war chassis and an 18-liter aircraft engine to set speed records in the early 1920s. They were the toys of the well-to-do.
The lads, not to be denied the exhilaration of speed on the cheap, used their new-found ability with hand tools to develop short-distance cars that typically started life as a cyclecar or a lightcar (the GN (H.R. Godfrey, Archie Frazer-Nash) was by far the most popular choice for bits). They were stripped of all unnecessary encumbrances, modified with whatever was available in the local breaker’s yard, and propelled at seemingly unattainable speeds by large motorcycle engines (e.g., JAP, Blackburne, Anzani, Matchless). At first, road racing was pretty much consigned either to blocked-off local roads or to Brooklands, but time trials and hillclimbs were readily available. In the early 1930s, with the opening of the Crystal Palace and Donington Park circuits, the array of motor sport activities expanded, giving rise to a wider variety of specials. John Bateman in his 1994 Vintage Specials book, explains:
“As the type of vehicle varied, so did the skill of the amateur engineers. Some attempts would be crudely executed and feature the most appalling welding, paintwork that looked as if it had been applied with a yard brush, and all held together with a variety of ill-fitting nuts and bolts. In other cases, the finished vehicle would be meticulous in its construction... The more accepted method [of design] involved the use of old envelopes and beer mats as sketch pads.... The special builder’s ideal [was to try to] incorporate parts from as many sources as possible into one vehicle.”
After the Hitler war, special building continued with the aim of the true vintage car enthusiast to be a person (again, to quote Bateman), “who do[es] not want to drive a machine that has been seen before. To them, the challenge is to re-create the vintage era by producing a special that could have been built in that era.”
As a general proposition, specials were always works in progress, and the opngoing changes and fettling were mainly aimed at greater performance and road handling. Few were altered simply to improve appearance.
Against that backdrop, different turn signals, move the headlights, rework the scuttle, add bucket seats, install a boat-tail rear panel? Never: no relationship to performance. So, the Singer’s builder had a fetish for mirrors (a total of five), so what? The central mirror sits on a wood plinth to raise it high enough to see over the bench seat. What could be more practical? If I race it, as I may if it appears to be sturdy enough , the more mirrors the better since on the track I am no stranger to the blue flag with a yellow stripe; indeed it is my best friend.
And those who are considering building a new vintage special: have at it, you’re in good company.