For those of you that avidly watch Top Gear (so that’s most of the UK adult, child and animal population then), it may have come as a surprise that their most rated car manufacturer, ever, was not Ferrari, Porsche or even Ford but a marque not often seen in the UK - Lancia. For those among you, however, who pronounce this make as ‘Lan-chee-aa’ (how it’s supposed to be said, in Italiano), this will come as no surprise at all - which includes me, as I pine giving one up ten years ago. And even though I’ve had some lovely (and more expensive) cars since, ever since I sold my 1971 Fulvia Series 2 1.3 S for barely enough money to carpet the downstairs of my first house, I’ve missed the slightly smoky, slightly rusty bella macchina.
There was something about the clever and well-engineered tiny little v4 engine that was so cammy, spritely and dramatic – belying its puny 90hp output. Something about the lines of the car that gave it a look, like a cross between a Riva speedboat and a short-wheelbase ‘60s Ferrari. There was something almost bespoke, about its interior and trim, and the Lan-chee-aa bores out there will tell you, the development of the Fulvia nearly bankrupt the then prominent sport car manufacturer, as a result. A small, practical 4-seater ‘60s car that had front wheel drive, a V4 engine with double over-head camshafts, disc brakes all-round and a five speed gearbox - all at a time when our dads’ generation had the Ford Anglia, Lancia took nothing from the newly formed Lancia-Fiat parts-bin of the day. The Fulvia Series 2, ahem, sorry Serie Due was a car which made its previous incarnation the Series 1 look like the boxy Italian Alfa police cars that break down in the Italian Job. But unlike in the the film, when launched this was a much more illusive (and expensive) car to be seen driving than a Mini Cooper.
Launched in 1969 the new Fulvia was a radical departure from its previous incarnation and went on to become one of the most important pre-Audi Quattro era rally cars - winning numerous competitions until the late '70s. The Fulvia (like this lovely example for sale in Belgium at Anglo Cars) marked a high water mark for the brand, which seemed to subsequently go further and further downhill under Fiat ownership (think Beta, think rust, Lancia Thema think erm….), making owning a Series 2 Fulvia, owning a piece of Italian auto design pride. Long gone as a modern day prestige brand, but not long forgotten: viva la Fulvia!
It’s one of those things most people want to do – own a historic car, but they don’t want to live with the danger of haemorrhaging cash on restoration and garage bills. The answer? An early 911, of course – the toughest and most useable of classics. I had one, a 1972 2.4S to be specific, and not only did the experience thrill (every outing seemed to be such an occasion), running and maintenance costs only ran into around £2k per year. Not exactly new-car cheap on the up-keep front, but by the time I had invested £6k on the car, bringing back some of its ailing bits and bobs (brakes, electrics, fuel injection tuning) it had more than doubled in value. Okay, so I got lucky finding a ‘matching numbers’ (engine and gearbox serials) ‘S’ model sourced via Holland, but the truth is, if you know these early cars, there is not a massive difference between an early ‘70s ‘S’ and the much cheaper ‘E’ model. Depending on precise history details about up-keep: restoration of engine, mechanical fuel injection and brakes, the 25HP performance difference can be negligible. What’s more, if you can find a nice 1971 car (and not later), you’ll benefit from a better weight distribution of having the massive oil tank located inside the wheelbase. With 1971 – 1973 911 S prices being sky-high at £40k min for a good one, a twenty thou’ 911 E (like this nice RHD ’70 2.2 model for sale at Brooklands) should make for a great investment, guaranteed to rise in value as they become more and more scarce.
