The Colonel came to Tye with just a handful of photographs showing what appears to be an MG 18/80 with body by Carbodies, registration MG 469, and several sheets of A4 paper containing copious notes explaining specific details that he wanted included in the design. One of Tye’s then employees was Alan Jenner who had joined the company after leaving the army to help fabricate the bodies for the last six HRGs. Jenner recalls Bucknall and his car with great fondness: “The first job that the Colonel insisted upon was that the chassis had to have two coats of battleship grey paint – nothing else would suffice. Fortunately we had a young apprentice – it’s a job that he still thinks about today!”
Using cardboard and wire templates to mock up the specifics of the body design, Tye, Jenner and Bucknall began a process of negotiation that resulted in the initial coachwork. “Bucknall was very open to most of our suggestions,” Jenner confirms. “Neither of us was afraid to say if we saw something we didn’t like, which I think is why the finished result was so successful.” With the basics agreed, Hastings Motor Sheet Metal Works (which later bodied the Ford GT70), set to building the frame out of 1in, 16 gauge mild-steel angle sections. The body itself was formed from 16 gauge aluminium and, within the space of several months and with regular visits from the Colonel, the car was ready for painting and trimming. Bucknall was specific about the colour scheme: it had to match the red and black of his beloved Coldstream Guards uniform – this was a man proud of his military record.
Trimming was done by another local firm, Uptons, but the design was hardly straightforward – Bucknall’s requirements for the practicality of this one-off were exacting if nothing else. The list is impressive: behind the front seats there’s a leather-clad tube housing a spare halfshaft; in front of that is a third seat for a sideways passenger; and underneath is a locker for a spare inner tube, fan belt, hose connections and cleaning materials. In the boot there is tailor-made storage for the Colonel’s service-issue shoe polishing kit and umbrella. Spare gaskets lie beneath the rubber mat and there’s another locker for spares – thermostat, bulbs and black lead for the tyres. Bucknall’s desire for everything on the car to be just so was insatiable, but purpose-driven – that he chose the Pyrénées for its maiden trip comes as little surprise.
During the final stages of the car’s construction Bucknall became friends with Bill Slack, workshop manager at nearby Caffyns. They clicked from the off: Slack was passionate about Jaguars and took an immediate interest in Bucknall’s project. After the shakedown, it was Slack who suggested a handful of modifications. These included shortening the rear of the car by 3in, removing the running boards in favour of shortened cycle wings (supposedly to combat front-end lift at speed), fitting disc brakes plus uprating the engine with a straight-port head and triple carburettors. One of the main changes was to increase the rake of the front windscreen for a sportier look. It comprised two flat glass sections for easy replacement and the fixings were also swapped so that the whole unit could be removed if necessary. Bucknall’s demands for as much storage as possible meant that the wind-up sidescreens were removed, introducing considerable pockets into the doors – cunningly large enough to hold the two windscreen sections when removed. Slack later helped Bucknall with several other projects, including an MG 1800 with Downton-tuned engine developing 112bhp and a remarkable four-seater MGB roadster, registration UDY 606. Does it still exist?
A fresh restoration of Bucknall’s bespoke tourer, registration RB 1903, was completed this year. Current owner Michael Hughes has been fortunate enough to own the car twice: this time around he was determined to bring it back to its former glory with the help of CMC in Bridgnorth, Shropshire. As we walk into the workshop, the car comes into view – poised centre stage, commanding attention despite the considerable number of cars surrounding it. The startling scarlet and highly polished black of the paintwork draws you in like a magnet, as does Bucknall’s obsession with detail and provision. There is something new to see from almost any angle – it doesn’t just command attention, it absorbs it. Every corner has a story to tell.
Today we have been granted guardianship of this one-off: an opportunity that’s hard to resist. There is a brisk wind, so the pinstripe jacket is buttoned-up and the scarf tucked into my open-necked shirt. No tee-shirt and trainers in this car out of respect: it just wouldn’t seem fitting to the Colonel’s memory. You swing open the suicide door and climb in – more across than down as in most sports cars. The floorpan sits higher off the deck than you expect, but it’s clearly a bonus down hedged country lanes – or in the case of the car’s intended purpose, the stone-walled hairpin bends of the Stelvio pass.
Pull the switch to power-up to the magneto, turn the key in the ignition and prod the dash-mounted starter button to hear the 3.4-litre engine roar into life before settling down to a familiar idle – the sound alone confirms that this is a car with pedigree.
Manhandle the large four-spoked steering wheel, dip the firm clutch and guide the lever into reverse and you instantly notice just how smooth, precise and relatively light the ’change is. This stubby selector encourages instinctive changes with the close-ratio Moss ’box. Already you are at home – everything feels intentionally right: at the right height or in the right place and just where you’d like it to be. The layout is clearly not an accident. By his own admission, Bucknall insisted that all measurements, gaps, instrument positioning and so on received considerable attention. He had ergonomics sussed before anyone else even knew what it meant.
With the hood down, visibility is almost flawless due to the flat deck. Even hood stowage doesn’t interfere with your line-of-sight across the rear of the body, making manoeuvres relatively simple. The turning circle isn’t fantastic by current standards, but at the time – and for a car of this size – it was more than acceptable.
