AC 16/80 Sports Car– March Hare (Part 2)

This year, Hescroff plans to retrace Haig’s wheel tracks on the Endurance Rally Association’s new Alpine Trial for pre-war cars. I’m sure that the grand-niece of Field Marshal Earl Haig, and founder member of the Historic Sports Car Club, would approve. “Betty drove the event on retreaded tyres and used engine oil,” says Hescroff. “Hopefully the roads will be better and the weather cooler.”

My interest in ACs stems from childhood, when Dad bought a Buckland, but a lucky meeting with Hescroff at the Circuit des Remparts in 1985 sealed that enthusiasm for Thames Ditton’s finest, and led to some of my most memorable motoring experiences. That fantastic weekend was capped by EPJ winning the concours at Angoulême, and Hescroff claiming an impressive prize of his weight in vintage Rémy Martin cognac. The subsequent road trip home with new friends on back routes across Brittany and Normandy, our borrowed Dax Cobra following the stylish silver 16/80, was a magical sunny adventure, and swapping cars educated me in the ways of this pre-war beauty.

Stylish interior with comfortable seats but no glovebox

Last September, we celebrated that introduction with a joyous drive around Hescroff’s favorite Dorset roads, and again the appeal of EPJ was quickly confirmed. Firstly, the graceful styling attracts, its presence less sensational than the contemporary rival SS100 but, from the Le Jeune mascot to the purposeful twin spares and chrome luggage rack, it’s hard to fault from any angle. Only the small-diameter drum brakes that look lost in the tall, narrow-spoke wheels spoil its thoroughbred stance. With the well-designed hood erected, the 16/80 has even more character.

Turn the low chrome handle for the rear-hinged cutaway door and the traditional cockpit immediately evokes privileged 1930s motoring. The bucket seats with ‘Float-on-air’ inflated bases are comfy and supportive, while the door trim features a dramatic Deco-style sunburst design with a handy zip-up pocket.

With the seat well forward, it’s a squeeze to slide my short legs under the broad four-spoke wheel. The dashboard – with sweeping scuttle that’s a signature of the Earl of March styling – matches the body color and is packed with handsome Smiths instruments, the speedo to the right of the column reading up to 100mph.

With the well-designed hood erected, the 16/80 has even more character

First owner Thompson ordered metallic paint – AC was one of the first to feature such a finish –but didn’t want a glovebox. “It’s the only 16/80 without one,” explains Hescroff, “and Haig approved of the omission. ‘Why would you want that ugly hole?’ she said to me!”

Turn the key, press the dinky starter button on the central ignition cluster, and the ‘six’ wakes easily with a rorty rasp. The fly-off handbrake is deep under the scuttle, which initially makes hill starts awkward, but the triple-SU engine is more responsive and torquey than you’d expect for a pre-war 2-litre. Little wonder the 16/80 was a familiar sight on 1930s trials, particularly in the hands of Ray Morley.

The Moss gearbox is stirred by a short lever topped with a wonderful soap-sized white knob. It initially feels like a notchy, slow change that’s not helped by the heavy clutch, but it’s immensely rewarding to snick cleanly once you master the double-declutch timing. As with all Moss gearboxes, you can’t race the movement.

The chassis, with conventional semi-elliptic springs all round, rides well thanks to the adjustable Hartford dampers but there’s the expected scuttle shake and steering kickback over the worst bumps and holes. “There are comparisons with the Ace,” says Hescroff. “It has a very seat-of-the-pants feel, and I’ve never spun one.”

With a limited lock, the steering requires busy hand-to-hand work for the tight turns, but its action is precise and perfectly weighted at speed and through open bends. The top speed is around 85mph, while the later supercharged ‘sloping tail’ 16/90 was good for 90mph – as Hescroff once proved when driving the Nord-schleife. Geared for 20mph per 1000rpm, EPJ is most comfortable cruising at 60mph but will eagerly push on to 70mph for short bursts.

The bucket seats with ‘Float-on-air’ inflated bases are comfy and supportive

I’ve long wanted to drive up the spectacular tree-lined Blandford Road from Kingston Lacy past Badbury Rings in a memorable car and, with ’screen folded flat, the AC is a treat. The view over the dash cowls and down the handsome louvered bonnet, with the chrome greyhound sprinter pointing ahead, is very nostalgic.

After a morning run, the 16/80 is rested at Shapwick. Enquiries about the car are constant during our pub lunch, but surprisingly few know the AC marque. We can’t help being distracted by the WW1 memorial in the center of the village. The engraved death count, including many from the Kerley family, is a chilling tribute. Betty Haig bought EPJ in 1939, just as the next hellish conflict started. Prevented from taking the new sports car abroad on rallies, she put it to work on her Sussex farms, where it paid its way delivering produce during the war years.

Like all great cars with a rich history, EPJ continually conjures vivid imagery from its past as old pictures are studied and stories unfold. As it rests bathed in autumn sunshine, it’s easy to imagine the AC back in Sussex, laden with apples as Hurricanes and Spitfires flew overhead to take on the Luftwaffe. Haig had driven a Singer through Germany en route to winning a gold rally medal in the 1936 Olympic Games, so she knew what evil was brewing on the continent.

As youngsters, my two sons always referred to EPJ as “the magic car” due to its habit of appearing on the drive after late-night returns from events. For many reasons, it’ll always be high on my list of all-time favorites.