R.A-S.H: The Wolseley Six

There has been some great English architecture over the years. From the majestic domes of Christopher Wren’s St Pauls Cathedral, through the Art Deco imaginings of Oliver Hill, to the shining, glassy edifices of Norman Foster and his associates. All of these masterpieces have been united by an innate sense of balance and proportion.

All of which was a point totally lost on the BMC design team when developing the ADO17 range, including the hunk of magnificence you see before you. And a point made all the more extraordinary when you find that Pininfarina were involved. Maybe they made the coffee.

“Wolseley have been producing motor cars since 1895”

Wolseley may well have produced some thoroughly decent machinery over the years, but the name just isn’t, wasn’t, sexy. It obviously meant enough to the bowler-hatted folk of Middle England, though, as British Leyland thought the name worthy of continuation until the mid-70s.

“…background of unstinting craftsmanship”

This would be the same craftsmanship that BL were famed for throughout the seventies. In between strikes and walkouts, among the thousands of vehicles produced that decade there must have been literally dozens that were built properly.

“….supremely elegant, surprisingly fast car”

The Bell Jetranger in this view seems incongrous, but the two machines were indeed from the same era. One was thoroughly forward-thinking, though, the other was mired in tradition. That said, for the traditionally conservative, “buy British” average Joe Car Buyer, radicalism was the last thing on anybody’s mind. The UK choice was basically Rootes, Ford or BMC/BLMH/BL.

“We can often tell a lot about a company from the cars they keep. The Wolseley Six says what you want to say about your company”

It’s quite difficult for me to get my head around this excruciating wordplay, as the significance of Wolseley is difficult to quantify forty years on. What did the brand mean, really? Where did Wolseley rank in the car-park heirarchy? I’d guess somewhere close to Rover, way below Jaguar. It must have been baffling, considering that you could also buy this, wearing a different front grille, as an Austin. or a Morris. Obviously the this was the poshest of the three; I mean the badge lit up, you know.

“…splendidly roomy rear seat”

This was headline-stealing stuff, clearly. This was definitely a car sold from the inside out, as a car for the passenger. On this basis, it didn’t really matter what the car looked like from the outside, then.

“The new Wolseley Six. It would be hard to find a car that gives you a softer life”

Yeah, cruising along gently was always the plan, all this despite the fact that it:

“…treats you to an exhilarating display of controlled power.”

Under that portly bodywork there sat the only straight-six engine to ever find itself transversely mounted between the front wheels of a car. I think. The same engine landed in the replacement ADO71, too.

“Those six cylinders get from 0-60 in 12.25 seconds, smoothly and quietly”.

It was that last twentieth of a second that made it feel fast, of course. 12.3 would have felt like an eternity by comparison. The smoothness and quietness was never in doubt, though. And, of course, there was that fantastic Hydrolastic suspension, interconnected front and rear, that contributed the great ride quality. They never tired of harping on about this  “world-beating” innovation that BL would later retain in Harris Manns’ legendary Princess that we explored here.

“The new Wolseley Six. One of the few cars that can mix business with pleasure. In style”

The British Leyland press machine would rumble on, spraying out half-truths and outright lies for a good while yet.

(Disclaimer: All images are of original Wolseley press material, photographed by me on a windy day. All copyright probably belongs to the Germans, at a guess, who are currently 0% likely to reintroduce the Wolseley name)