LONG, SLOW
ROAD TO
A
VERY FAST
CAR
A
car for yesterday and tomorrow: A new Morgan - one ninth of a week's production
- shines in the never-setting British sun. Below, chairman Peter Morgan
and his heir-apparent son, Charles.
Tearing around in one down the bosky roads near Malvern Link, the town 110 miles northwest of London where the Morgan family has been producing admired and desired cars for seventy-eight years, it's easy to see why. Parting with a Morgan would be an impossible sorrow. Once the speedometer clocks a hundred miles per hour, an achievement, incidentally, only sixteen seconds away from a standing start, the wind whips over the upright windshield and more than a rider's hair gets rearranged; this car goes right to work on your frame of mind. Nothing so perfectly combines speed and style and sheer sensual roadway excitement as a Morgan singing on a straightaway, then throatily downshifting for a turn, then roaring back into upper register. It's an experience to make a playboy out of any man.
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