Morgan Cars, Sales, Imports, Isis Imports Ltd.
Reprinted from Gentleman's Quarterly Magazine October 1987
And entering and
exiting the low-slung car is a little like sidling into a kayak. Then there's
the convertible top, which creates a dingy, steamy tent when put up. Only, when
does that happen? First of all, your typical Morgan owner doesn't mind a little
precipitation; he just steps on it and lets the drops whiz by. Second, because
of the timeless hard-knocks suspension, "there is a tendency [while going over
bumps] for the top of your head to make contact with one of the hood sticks,"
according to a recent Autocar magazine road test. "This can be disconcerting the
first time it happens." Morgan enthusiasts, however, counter these drawbacks with
a shrug. "Okay, so there are a few kinks," they say. "So take your name off the
list and let the next guy have your car."
At the train station at Malvern Link, the ticket agent gives directions to Morgan's
"erecting shop" as follows: "Walk across the common to that big house. Follow
the road around the bend and down the dale and it's straight in front of you."
And that's just where it is, same today as when H.F.S. erected it in 1914. There
is one important addition to the operation: They've put a stuffed owl in front
of the dispatch bay. This scares away the birds that were wont to leave their
marks on freshly painted cars once they were rolled out into the yard.
Morgan subcontracts the engine, electrical components and other bits it isn't
equipped to build. But most of the parts are made in-house, including brake drums,
suspension, frame and body. The factory has 130 employees, each of whom trains
three to five years in his job. A few years back, the company took on some workers
made "redundant" by the closing of a nearby British Leyland plant. But that didn't
work out so well. "He's no bloody good at all," the sheetmetal foreman complained
of one at the time. "Can you believe he doesn't even know how to use a bloody
snips?"
Peter Morgan walks past the cacophony of his cars' fabulous hoods - or bonnets,
as the English call them - being hand-mangled into shape straight to the woodworking
shop, where another endearing Morgan anomaly is assembled, the seasoned-ash frames.
He has no problem with building a body over wood. (Supposedly, only one kind of
beetle attacks it, and according to rumor, it's indigenous only to China.) Wood
also has the associated benefits of lightness and flexibility. But wood presents
an obstacle to raising production from nine to ten cars a week. "I don't think
it sensible," Morgan says, "to make people rush on dangerous woodworking machines."
As buyers' names creep up the waiting list, they are notified and the sales confirmed.
Then a detailed order is drawn up, including all manner of custom extras except
a sound system, which couldn't be heard anyway above the wind and engine noise.
It takes roughly three months to build each Morgan, and new owners often stop
by Malvern Link to check on the progress. Lately, one British policeman who clearly
saved up a long time has been coming every week. He'll probably also buy the step-by-step
photo album that's available.
Come lunchtime, Peter Morgan climbs into his racing-green Plus 8 and roars off
to the pub to meet his son. Charles Morgan joined the company full-time two years
ago last July, after a turn as a television cameraman and filmmaker. Thirty-six
years old to his father's 67, and an only son like his father, Charles will doubtless
assume control for the next generation. Still, more than blood attaches him to
the marque. Charles has been casually winning races with Morgans on the English
and European circuits for years, and in 1985 he drove a Plus 8 across a frozen
lake in St. Moritz to place second in the Sotheby's Cup Classic Car ice event.
Such antics notwithstanding, he drives a sensible turbo-charged Fiat Uno hatchback
for a second car. (His dad bombs around in a 1974 Ferrari 365 GT.) And he's well
versed in Morgan cant and gospel. For instance, Charles cites the cars' antiquated
flying fenders as a safety feature. "Provides for extra crumple space," he figures.
The reason for the Morgans' success is more than simply knowing when to keep a
good thing going. The Morgan Motor Company thinks only five years ahead at any
time, allowing it to cope with such calamities as its engine becoming inadmissible
to the United States, where it once sold 87 percent of its cars. This approach,
like those wooden frames, keeps overhead low and plans flexible. It also keeps
the price down.
"Whatever we do must be as good as it is now," explains Peter Morgan. "That's
quite a limitation." Charles then takes the lead. "Any bit of design that is good
- no, great - and extremely simple, we would want to incorporate as quickly as
possible. We would not want to add a computer box that would run everything but
takes up two square feet of boot [trunk] space. Now, something more elegant that
fits in exactly with my grandfather's initial design, that's another matter. There
is demand at the moment for twelve cars a week," he continues. "But we'd prefer
a more gradual climb. It is a bit shortsighted to increase like that in one fell
swoop."
- Michael VerMeulen
Michael VerMeulen writes for GQ from London.
Isis Imports Ltd
PO Box 2290 Gateway Station
San Francisco, CA 94126
(415) 433-1344
FAX (415) 788-1850
billfink@morgancars-usa.com
