WHEN Scottish engineer Alexander Wilson started producing pumps in a factory at Vauxhall, London, in 1857, little could he have thought that, more than 150 years later, the company he founded would be
one of the best-known brands in the country.
From those humble beginnings, the company expanded into the Vauxhall Iron Works, adding marine engines to an expanding portfolio before diversifying further, in 1903, to produce their first automobile – a 5hp, single-cylinder, two-speed open machine that was steered by a tiller.
The company sold more than 70 cars that first year and, in 1905, production moved to a new plant at Luton, where the company continued to trade under the name Vauxhall Iron Works.
In 1907, the company and their products were now highly respected and the name was changed to Vauxhall Motors, with the firm producing expensive, top-quality, sporty machines that competed directly against the likes of Bentley.
In an unassuming building tucked away at the back of Griffin House, Vauxhall’s Luton headquarters, is the company’s Heritage Centre.
It’s not a museum, as such, but a marvellous collection of more than 60 working vehicles, which span the 110-year history of the marque, that is open to the public on occasion.
Knowing I would get close to some wonderful machines, such as the fabulous 1911 three-litre C-type Prince Henry – acknowledged as the UK’s first real sports car – and the OE 30/98, which came with a guaranteed top speed of 100mph, an invitation to tour the facility and drive some of the collection was too great an offer to turn down.
But it was not until I actually got inside the building and started to reminisce that I realised just how big a part the company have played in my own motoring experiences.
It is well documented that nearly everyone in the UK had some association or another with the original BMC Mini, whether it was their parents or grandparents who owned one, or perhaps even a sibling, uncle or aunt.
But, equally, that has to be said for a model of the Vauxhall brand.
My first Vauxhall experience was in a 1963 HA Viva.
An acquaintance used one for his driving school and I had to take a lesson from him prior to sitting my test as an eager 17-year-old learner driver.
Needless to say, I failed, but I still resent the £4 spent for my one and only driving lesson and another wasted £4 for the use of the car for my test.
But driving that car today it’s easy to see why it became such a big seller, with its boxy but stylish body incorporating acres of glass for excellent visibility.
Its 1057cc four-pot engine mated to a four-speed gearbox made it a great small family car and, with its £478 price tag, it’s little wonder more than 300,000 were built.
My next fling was in my father’s two-tone green and grey 2.5-litre PA Cresta, a beast of a machine even back then in 1964.
Beautifully appointed, with lashings of chrome and beautiful leather upholstery, the massive bench seats meant that it could accommodate six in comfort or even more at a push.
But the 15ft-long monster tended to wallow about like an Aberdeen trawler fishing in a rough North Sea.
Surprisingly, Vauxhall’s own blue and ivory PA Velox version I took out for a spin felt much more planted and secure than I ever remembered the Cresta to be, probably because it has received a lot of TLC over the intervening years.
A short spell with a HC Viva in the mid 1970s also proved an enjoyable experience, which I was more than happy to rekindle behind the wheel of Vauxhall’s own yellow 1979 1300L example.
In the early 1970s, I had moved on from a succession of Volkswagens to a Mk1 Opel Manta.
And with the introduction of the Mk1 Cavalier in 1975, it was soon time to ditch that machine for a two-door coupe version of the new Vauxhall – in truth a rebadged Manta that was built in Belgium by
Adam Opel.
Two more Mantas followed until 1981 and the launch of the Mk2 Cavalier. I took delivery of my new henna-red hatchback in 1982 but was gutted a week later when a new Manta hit the showrooms.
There was nothing for it but to trade the week-old Cavalier in for a shiny, black three-door Manta, which was to be followed a year later by the more powerful GTE version.
Driving the Mk2 Cavalier now, I was amazed at just how well the car performed in today’s traffic.
Quiet, yet sprightly on the hoof, the interior has not dated too much, while the quality of the brushed velour upholstery, deep pile carpets and plastic fittings and fixtures can put a lot of modern offerings to shame.
That’s really when my own personal 20-odd year love affair with the great British marque finally ended, although I have driven many of the company’s new models at launches in recent years.
Looking around the exhibits on show, it is fair to say Vauxhall have produced some fabulous machines over the years, none more so than the early sports models.
One model worth noting is the 1914-1918 D-type Army Staff Car, perhaps the sole surviving example of about 2000 that were built for the War Office during the long conflict, at a cost of £550 each.
The IC2701 was a late model built in 1918 and was itself rescued from a scrapyard in the late 1940s.
Earlier this year, the 1.5-ton monster was in the Belgian town of Ypres as part of the Great War centenary celebrations and is scheduled for a busy year as commemorations get into full swing.
However, those of us who are old enough to remember them from new can still marvel at machinery like the Victor (1957), PB Cresta (1966), Firenza (1970), Chevette (1975), and Senator, Royale, Carlton and Viceroy (all 1978).
Then there are the Astra (1980), Nova (1983) and Calibra (1990), working their way up to more modern machinery such as the Corsa (1993), Vectra (1995), Zafira (1999) and Agila (2000).
More recently, there have been the Meriva (2002), Insignia (2008), the revolutionary plug-in Ampera range extender (2011) and Mokka and Adam (2012), most of which are represented in what is a truly remarkable collection.
