Morris Oxford Traveller vs Borgward Isabella Combi: practically perfect?

By Simon Hucknall

| 8 Jul 2024

Classic & Sports Car – Morris Oxford Traveller vs Borgward Isabella Combi: practically perfect?

You’d be hard pushed to find two more different entrants in the burgeoning estate-car market of the 1950s than the Borgward Isabella Combi and the Series IV Morris Oxford Traveller.

The former was an avant-garde sophisticate from a fiercely independent car maker, daring to challenge the might of its premium German rivals; the latter a more conservatively drawn, don’t-shock-the-natives creation from a historic but recently merged corporation.

Both were entering a new motoring age where, by simple dint of an extended roofline, plus the addition of a tailgate and configurable rear seat, you could retain almost all of the dynamic and performance attributes of a saloon, but with vastly improved practicality and versatility.

The Borgward Isabella Combi was built at the marque’s Bremen factory in Germany

To date, however, British buyers still hadn’t been fully weaned on to the joys of estate-car ownership.

What’s more, Borgward was little-known and German, which helped even less – although by the middle of the decade Bill Blydenstein’s race success in a tuned Isabella saloon had created at least some awareness.

The Combi (an alliteration of kombi, Germany’s generic term for a station wagon) was yet more unusual for being an in-house production, at a time when estates from big players such as Ford and Vauxhall tended to be toe-in-the-water exercises, with approved conversions by coachbuilders including Abbott of Farnham.

The Morris Oxford Traveller Series IV’s body was made out of steel, unlike its ‘woodie’ predecessors

Yet Borgward’s high levels of manufacturing and engineering autonomy were already well established.

Situated in Bremen, Carl Borgward had amassed a successful automotive empire in the 1920s and ’30s, originally designing and building very simple, basic cars and light trucks, and then, after buying Hansa-Lloyd in 1931, developing more upmarket machinery under the Hansa brand.

So it wasn’t until 1939 that the first Borgward-badged cars – the 2000 and 2300 – broke cover, albeit just before the factory was requisitioned for Germany’s war effort.

The Borgward Isabella Combi (left) and Morris Oxford Traveller prove that practicality doesn’t have to come at the cost of style

When production recommenced in 1948, Borgward cannily created three separate companies – Borgward, Lloyd and Goliath – to effectively treble his government allocation of raw materials.

For Borgward, that meant the introduction of the Hansa 1500 and 1800 models from 1949, which in turn begat the technically more advanced Isabella in 1954.

Carl Borgward’s choice of the ‘Isabella’ moniker was seemingly random.

Asked to come up with a name for a Hansa 1500 prototype, he remarked: “It does not matter what you put on it… you might as well call it Isabella.”

The Borgward Isabella’s cheerful cabin has more than a touch of Art Deco-style charm

His attention to the car’s engineering and design integrity, though, ran far deeper.

Initially launched as a saloon, by 1955 the Combi had joined the range, followed by an Isabella Coupé and more potent TS model in subsequent years.

The engine powering them all – a 1493cc in-line ‘four’ with a 75 x 84.5mm bore and stroke – had an extremely short intake manifold, allowing it to run inside the rocker box.

This gave the unit the appearance of an overhead-cam engine, even though it still employed conventional, pushrod-operated overhead valves.

The Borgward Isabella Combi is capable and competent rather than exciting on the road

Its weight was pared down using aluminium components where practical – including the cylinder head – and it was mated to a Borgward-designed and made four-speed gearbox, also with an aluminium casing.

While an output of 60bhp was par for the class, Borgward’s low-weight edict meant that its mid-sized estate weighed just 1090kg, gifting it a 93mph maximum and a 0-62mph time of just 18.5 secs – surprisingly fleet of foot for such a salubrious and practical vehicle.

Like the drivetrain, the rest of the Isabella’s underpinnings were hardly revelatory, but thoroughly contemporary and beautifully resolved.

The long roof-rack adds to this Borgward Isabella Combi’s practicality

The unitary construction employed separate subframes at each end, rubber-mounted at the front for better insulation of the mechanicals.

The independent suspension all round was by unequal-length wishbones, coil springs and telescopic dampers at the front.

Swing-axles, coils and telescopics looked after the rear, located by radius arms pivoting in rubber bearings, with the entire set-up skewed towards offering predictable handling combined with fine passenger comfort.

Driving Graham Manders’ immaculate and highly original 1960 example today reveals how far this was achieved.

The large, flexible load area in the three-door Borgward Isabella Combi

After being imported by Borgward’s British concessionaire, Metcalfe & Mundy Ltd on Old Brompton Road, SW5, the car was delivered to a Mrs Edith Francis Sear of Orpington by F Fletcher & Co, a Singer and Simca agent in Beckenham.

Since then, the Combi has covered just 64,000 miles, including various trips to Sweden and Germany during Graham’s tenure.

Remarkably, it remains unrestored, with only regular maintenance having been required to keep it in fine fettle.

The Borgward’s clean and uncluttered lines, rounded and quite rakish along its flanks, and topped by a quite shallow glasshouse, are at odds with those of the more upright and busy design of the Morris.

The Borgward Isabella’s dashboard includes a strip speedo and a set of dials

From the chrome-shrouded headlights to the elegant tail-lamps, shaped like vestigial fins, there is subtle detailing everywhere.

Pull down the lever mounted on the right of the tailgate and it swings open to the nearside of the car; with the rear bench’s squab pushed up, and the seatback folded down, a long, flat cargo area is revealed, into which only the rear inner arches encroach.

This being a three-door body, however, you can only load from the rear – a compromise not shared by the Morris.

Up front, unexpected features abound in the Modernist, white-and-red-trimmed cabin.

The Borgward Isabella’s compact four-cylinder punches above its weight

There are chunky rotary knobs on the doors for winding the quarterlights open and shut; separate heaters and controls for driver and front passenger; an inspection lamp that plugs into the cigarette lighter; reclining front seats; and a comprehensive instrument panel set into the Bakelite dashboard, incorporating a strip speedo underscored by dials for miles and trip, water temperature and fuel, plus a clock.

We’re driving on sinuous, rural Cotswolds roads today, which not only suit the aesthetic of both cars, but also more closely reflect the typical motoring landscape enjoyed by their first keepers.

You are truly ensconced in the Isabella, the feeling exacerbated by a high scuttle, and door cards that curve in towards your shoulders.

Borgward: a once-famous name now lost

Key the starter, and the soft whirr of the Borgward ‘four’ permeates the cabin.

Release the umbrella-type handbrake, pull back and push up the springy, long-throw column shift to engage first, and the Combi glides away.

You’d never call the Isabella’s engine characterful, but it’s refined enough and, given its size, there is plenty of torque to be found in the low-to-mid reaches of its performance.

The gearchange is far from the high point of the driving experience, requiring a measured and deliberate action.

‘The Isabella’s drivetrain and underpinnings were hardly revelatory, but thoroughly contemporary and beautifully resolved’

Overall, though, this car belies its 70-year-old engineering.

The ride is supple, but never floaty, and body movements are controlled, even when you pick up pace – which is just as well, because the flat but comfortable front bench lacks any lateral support.

The large, white, thin-rimmed wheel is typical of the age and, although the worm-and-peg steering it controls is quite direct (three turns lock-to-lock), there’s some play off the straight-ahead.

But this is a stable tourer, with only the merest hint of playfulness if you deliberately upset the rear swing-axles by lifting off mid-bend, and even then it quickly regains its composure.

The Borgward Isabella Combi’s reclining front seats are comfortable, but they lack lateral support

Vive la difference! The Series IV Morris Oxford Traveller is the perfect fit for a Broadway street scene (Gloucestershire’s version), and would have blended seamlessly into any period postcard depicting the pretty Cotswolds village.

Amazingly, at £1011 17s in 1958 – including £13 for ‘our’ car’s two-tone paintwork – the Oxford Traveller’s list price was significantly higher than the Isabella Combi’s, which even two years later was just £829.

Add in the Borgward’s eye-watering £440 import tax, though, and overall the Morris was less expensive.

The Borgward Isabella Combi’s side-hinged tailgate gives good access

The ‘Oxford’ name stretched back to the Edwardian days, but the post-WW2 Series IV Traveller was based heavily on the Series II model, which, as a saloon, had replaced Alec Issigonis’ Morris Minor-like MO in 1954.

Like the Series II, it adopted the Austin-designed, overhead-valve 1489cc B-series engine – an obvious and pragmatic choice, after Austin and Morris had merged under the British Motor Corporation banner in 1952.

As with the Borgward, the Morris used a monocoque body, this time suspended by a torsion-bar-sprung independent front end, with a live axle and semi-elliptic springs at the rear.

The Borgward Isabella Combi’s glasshouse is flanked by simple, uncluttered lines

The bloodline of the Series IV Traveller didn’t quite align with that of the saloon, though.

It began with the Series II and Series III ‘woodie’ Travellers, the latter adopting the revised saloon’s fluted bonnet and optional two-tone paint.

But in 1957, the Traveller’s timber body was replaced by one made completely from steel – ‘greater strength, lightness, endurance’ – to become the ‘Oxford Traveller Series IV’, as christened by Morris.

The Morris Oxford Traveller Series IV’s slightly stodgy shape is lifted by the two-tone paint finish

Initially fitted with a four-speed, column-change gearbox, in 1958 the Traveller swapped to a floor change, when buyers were again offered the option of two-tone paint.

Martin Hamilton has owned his 1959 car since 2016, its purchase recalling halcyon days when, as a youth, his father owned a similar model.

This Traveller’s optional Almond Green over Old English White paintwork brightens up what would be a rather utilitarian shape – though Vauxhall’s chiefs must have done a double-take when they spotted the Traveller’s deeply fluted bonnet, closely resembling their own design trademark from years before.

The Morris Oxford Traveller has the familiar feel of a Nuffield product

Swooping chrome swage lines separate the colours, and at the rear frame two little fins that jut out next to the tailgate, just ahead of the dual petrol caps, one on each side of the car (lest you forget on which side to fill up).

Around the front, as if to distract from the estate’s rather prosaic form, is an abundance of chrome, including two of the largest overriders I’ve seen on a passenger car.

The spotlights are replacements for period-correct items that were previously fitted, as is the body-coloured windscreen sunvisor.

The Morris Oxford Traveller’s tailgate swings upwards, unlike the Borgward’s side-hinged item

Unlike the Borgward, the Oxford’s top-hinged tailgate opens skyward, to reveal a relatively high-set, but flat (with the seat down), cargo deck, beneath which is a separate hatch to access the spare wheel and jack.

And, with the five-door body, passengers and cargo can enter via the rear doors, too.

Take a seat in the Traveller and you’ll find nothing that would have upset traditional, middle-class sensibilities.

The plump, pleated leather front bench – with an indent for the floor gearshift – in theory seats three, making this a six-seater, but drivers will need to be on intimate terms with their middle passengers every time they change into top.

A chrome strip separates Almond Green from Old English White on the Morris estate

The rear seat scores over the Borgward’s by having a pull-down armrest, but there’s ample legroom in both cars, each of which has a carpeted floor.

You sit high in the Oxford, facing a sprung, three-spoke steering wheel, with a small chromed switch sprouting from its hub to activate the trafficators and rear indicators.

Two large instruments – a multi-use dial and a speedometer – are mounted centrally in the metal-faced dashboard, with a small bank of pull/push controls beneath. (The voltage and water-temperature gauges on this car are non-standard.)

The Morris Oxford Traveller is not fast, but it is a pleasure to drive

Overall, the Oxford’s cabin is a cosy and reassuring place to be for those not brave enough to sample the Borgward’s more Bauhaus-like charms.

Yet driving the Morris is nowhere near as turgid an experience as its design might suggest.

You do feel a bit like an old-school London cabbie peering over the wheel, but the controls are nicely weighted, the pedals sensibly spaced.

The H-pattern gearshift has a longish throw, but each ratio engages with well-oiled precision and you soon find yourself using the ’box more than expected for the fun of it (also out of necessity – performance is sedate), helped by the accompanying sporty rasp from the exhaust as you stretch the B-series’ legs.

The five-door Morris Oxford Traveller is more practical than the Borgward

The gearing is lower than the Borgward’s, though, so at anything above 50-55mph the engine starts to sound busy.

Through the bends, the Oxford’s steering is lower-geared than the Isabella’s, requiring some wheel-twirling, but it’s a more linear and faithful system than the German’s, and one that is surprisingly engaging given the utilitarian remit.

This, complemented by build integrity that is impressive for a 64-year-old motor, makes for a tidy-handling car.

There’s plenty of body roll – not helped when you’re perched so high – which does mark the Traveller down somewhat versus the Isabella, as do its lifeless brakes.

Then again, its live axle is more than a match for the slight waywardness inherent in the Isabella’s swing-axles.

The Morris Oxford Traveller’s ubiquitous B-series engine

It would have taken an individualistic Brit to pin their colours to the Borgward mast at a time when picking homespun products was de rigueur.

But for everyone else, the Morris was a credible riposte – if not particularly for its style or innovation – in the emerging estate-car market, with more than skin-deep appeal.

Images: Max Edleston

Thanks to: Historics Auctioneers; The Cambridge-Oxford Owners’ Club; The Lygon Arms; Graham Mander

What happened to Borgward?

By the mid-’50s, the annual output of the Borgward Group was already second only to Volkswagen in the German market, and by 1959 it had risen to 105,000, with the Isabella range – saloon, Combi and Coupé – accounting for around 38,000 units.

That same year, however, Borgward’s sister company, Lloyd, went to market prematurely with an underdeveloped new model, the Arabella.

Many of them were recalled, at great cost, and Borgward tried valiantly to plug the losses by requesting loans from the banks, as well as the local government. But to no avail.

In January 1961, the Borgward Group’s credit lines were frozen, and the press seized upon the news with an inevitable hammer-blow to sales at home and abroad.

On 4 February 1961, the Bremen Senate took over the entire company and founder Carl Borgward (above, centre) resigned.

BMC, among others, showed an interest in buying Borgward Group, but while holding out for the best deal, the firm collapsed in September that year.

Carl Borgward died a broken man on 28 July 1963.

Factfiles

Borgward Isabella Combi

Sold/number built 1954-’61/202,862 (all Isabellas)
Construction steel monocoque
Engine iron-block, alloy-head, ohv 1493cc ‘four’, single downdraught carburettor
Max power 60bhp @ 4700rpm
Max torque 79lb ft @ 2000rpm
Transmission four-speed manual, RWD
Suspension independent, at front by double wishbones rear swing-axles, radius arms; coil springs, telescopic dampers f/r
Steering worm and peg
Brakes drums
Length 14ft 4in (4390mm)
Width 5ft 7in (1705mm)
Height 4ft 11in (1500mm)
Wheelbase 8ft 6in (2600mm)
Weight 2403lb (1090kg)
Mpg 25 (est)
0-60mph 18.5 secs
Top speed 93mph
Price new £1269 (1960)
Price now £13-20,000*

Morris Oxford Traveller Series IV

Sold/number built 1957-’60/58,117 (all Series III saloons & Series IV Travellers)
Construction steel monocoque
Engine all-iron, ohv 1489cc ‘four’, single carburettor
Max power 55bhp @ 4400rpm
Max torque 78lb ft @ 2400rpm
Transmission four-speed manual, with no synchromesh on first, RWD
Suspension: front independent, by wishbones, torsion bars rear live axle, semi-elliptic springs; telescopic dampers f/r
Steering rack and pinion
Brakes drums
Length 14ft 1in (4292mm)
Width 5ft 5in (1651mm)
Height 5ft 3in (1600mm)
Wheelbase 8ft 3in (2514mm)
Weight 2659lb (1206kg)
Mpg 25 (est)
0-60mph 29 secs
Top speed 75mph
Price new £1011 17s (1958)
Price now £10-13,000*