For the record: How Autocar made its mark

The war against the Central Powers was the first major event the magazine lived through, but rather than try to continue as usual, we literally rallied the troops, asking the War Office as soon as war was declared what would be the best way that motorists could help. We then published a form that our readers could fill out and return to Lord Kitchener’s lackeys, offering loan of their “fast and handy machines for the transport of men and material”, being “only too glad if their cars could be utilised if required in the defence of their country or in the maintenance of its position”. Imagine offering your Vauxhall Corsa to fight the Taliban...

Come the return of peace, motoring began to be democratised and Autocar’s circulation soared, as along came mass manufacturing and affordable (relatively speaking) cars such as the Austin Seven – which became the subject of our first ever road test in 1928. Although performance, ride and handling weren’t exactly priorities for coverage back then, the car going well, not breaking down and being cheap to run were enough.

Our words were given credence by their authors’ engineering and design experience and our highly detailed technical drawings, while the sport was written by a top-class racing driver. On that note, any plans after 2022, Sir Lewis?

Another major landmark came in 1939, and for the next five years we guided our readers through the automotive industry’s incalculable contributions to the destruction of fascism, while covering everything on the home front from the work of the WAAFs to how to lay up a car for a long period of disuse and how to drive during the blackouts of the Blitz – not to forget sternly reminding readers that it was terribly bad form to drive around looking for blazes caused by bombs (although not quite as terribly irresponsible as going to your mum’s for dinner during lockdown, of course...).

We got right back on track in the 1950s. The British car industry went through perhaps its golden period, cars became affordable to virtually all, motor racing grew bigger and more prominent than ever before and there was always plenty to cover. 

The launch of the Mini came in 1959: “Following the Triumph Herald, a second outstanding and original small car design has emerged, this time from the British Motor Corporation,” wrote the editor. “This 850cc design, the work of Mr Alec Issigonis and his team, bristles with originality, yet there is nothing remotely freakish about it. Whether they be engineers or laymen, those who examine this car are unanimous as to the good common sense and ingenuity built into it. The road test will gladden many hearts, for it gives promise.”

Then came the 1961 Geneva motor show: “Jaguar enthusiasts for some time have been asking the company to produce a new two-seater sports car with a flashing performance and plenty of luggage space for long-distance touring. Of equal importance with high maximum speed and vivid acceleration were the requirements of flexibility for town use and superb roadholding. These demands have now been met by a new ‘E’ type. In line with established Jaguar policy, prices of the new car are extremely low for the performance and appointments offered.”

The 1970s were a low point for Britain in many ways. In 1968, as the country’s major car firms were conglomerated into British Leyland, we said: “Put bluntly, British Motor Holdings are in a mess, with a reduced share of the market and little to look forward to in the near future. Sir Donald Stokes has a massive job ahead with all too few good men to turn to for help. British Leyland is now Great Britain’s most influential manufacturer and exporter and almost its only remaining automotive company of international significance. We wish it well; it is vital that it now succeeds.”

For myriad interlinked reasons, ranging from mismanagement and underinvestment to a global oil crisis, inflation and somewhat choppy political waters, come 1975 British Leyland had gone bankrupt and been nationalised. Almost £3 billion of public money later, the company was gone entirely.

Autocar was struggling to pull out of a crisis of its own. We had been absent from the news stands for no fewer than 20 weeks in 1973 as a result of printers’ strikes, and being brought into the same house as long-standing rival Motor had blunted the competitive edge of both weekly publications. The magazine was even on the verge of being killed by accountants in the early 1980s, but a bold relaunch sent its numbers soaring once more.

It absorbed Motor and, after handing over to a new generation of young car enthusiasts, went through a golden period in the 1990s, writing effusively enough to see off the multi-million-pound launch of new rival Carweek.