Mike Humble:

“My old comprehensive school English teacher and librarian who thought charisma was the 25th of December and flat footedly strode around wearing Clark Polyveldt shoes along with a woolly jumper, drove a bright blue 1750 Maxi. Whenever I think of a Maxi, I think of  Mr McKenzie”

When BMC merged with Leyland’s BMH (British Motor Holdings) in early 1968, the Chairman – Donald Stokes sent his senior staff to see what was new in the pipeline to quickly try to add some badly needed fizz into the woefully ageing Austin Morris range. A car with some badda-bing, a little bit of style, a dash of desirability, just a hint of sporting pedigree and above all – a car to make you run out and buy one just on the strength of a glossy brochure image or television advert. Well, the job was given to an elderly employee – a Mrs Hubbard from Garstang, who rummaged around the BMC prototype development reported back to Stokes that the cupboard was almost bare. 

Suffice for project ADO 14 which upon its launch in 1969 became known as the Austin Maxi. BMC had been chommering away on the car since 1965 and it was still some way off production and various styling tweaks had taken place – all of them looking pudding-like and stodgy. On paper at least, the Maxi promised to have a rather extravagant technical specification: reclining front and rear seats that folded down into a (laughably uncomfortable) double bed, Hydrolastic (Hydragas from 1977) suspension, front wheel drive along with a brand new overhead cam engine and a five speed gearbox – pretty much all of which was unheard of in Great Britain at the time.

The car was rapidly shoved into production for 1969 and in what was to become the true British Leyland trait, the Maxi was dogged with a whole host of issues and engineering problems from the word go. For some unfathomable reason, rather than using simple rods and universal joints, BMC engineers opted to use a gear shift that operated cables underneath the car – a universal method today but untried back then. The cables were badly routed, badly fitted and would shrink and contract in fluctuating temperatures meaning the simple action of swapping cogs was more frustrating than threading a needle wearing boxing gloves. 

“…the amount of interior space made a Tardis feel more cramped than an Earls Court maisonette”

The 74bhp 1500cc ‘E’ series engine was initially the only option and gave at best only average performance. The fifth gear was only of any use (if you could find it that is) on the flattest of roads or downhill and other issues included wheel bearings that hummed like a spinning top and brutally heavy steering. It wasn’t all bad though. The Maxi was a comfortable thing to drive, the roadholding was on the right side of acceptable and the amount of interior space made a Tardis feel more cramped than an Earls Court maisonette. Better news came just two years later in 1971 following universal cries of aghast from the motoring pundits.

The bloody awful gearchange was answered by developing a rod operated mechanism, it still had a vague shift action but no longer did you hop and lurch and grind up the road like Edie Pegden’s Triumph Herald made famous in ‘Last of the Summer Wine’. The engine was also stroked out to 1748 and a twin carburettor model also joined the lineup – the 1500 was soon deleted offering the 1750 in single carb or in HL trim with twin SU carbs. It was still no ball of fire but now at least could give a good account for itself when fully freighted or when hammering up the motorway but the HL certainly liked a good drink. Compared to some Ford and Vauxhall models of a similar vintage, the Maxi felt reassuringly tank-like in its construction – which was… and is… a good thing.

The Maxi’s major problem though was its image. It could never be called glamorous or lithe in its vista – more like a poorly risen Yorkshire pudding. The main buyer was mature, often with a family and quite seemingly given up on life many years ago. Nearly all were seen at some point dragging some fibreglass misery palace (caravan) along the A303 past Stonehenge or down at the garden centre for another load of compost and bark chippings. My old comprehensive school English teacher and librarian who thought charisma was the 25th of December and flat footedly strode around wearing Clark Polyveldt shoes along with a woolly jumper, drove a bright blue 1750 Maxi. Whenever I think of a Maxi, I think of  Mr McKenzie.

And yet the Maxi is an itch I need to scratch. I once owned a cinnabar red Maxi 2 for ten minutes, immediately selling it on to a mate. Still, despite driving hundreds of B.L cars, I have no idea what they are like to own long term. My other half raised one of my eyebrows recently by saying she quite liked the look of them – nineteen bloody years and she still continues to surprise me. Though wait a moment – I’m fifty one years old, that makes me a prime age to own an Austin Maxi….

Now where’s that bloody Exchange and Mart when you need it?

What say you? Feel free to comment below.

Maxi featured image courtesy of the Maxi Owners Club