There has recently been a spate of correspondence in praise of these fine cars and, as a maniacal supporter of the marque since 1927, I cannot resist a brief contribution. To Mr. K.J. Campbell (Motor Sport, April), I would suggest that the trade did not like them because they never had a chance to rake in the shekels on a repair job—nothing ever went wrong. In this connection it will be remembered that they invariably went through a racing season with stops for petrol only, always finishing in team order at the head of Class D, often against supercharged opposition. I am about 6 feet and 13 1/2 stone and have only two arms and normal fingers but never experienced any difficulty in carrying out routine maintenance—brakes could be adjusted almost as quickly as one could walk round the car and the easiest way to set valve clearances was with the engine “durdling,” whilst engine and gearbox oil could be changed on the way to a dance if one felt so Inclined. The man who always wanted our 1927 “14/45” still has it and claims to have a waiting list; its successor was driven over a cliff in Scotland (and even a Talbot could not laugh that off); the last time I saw the “75” it was taking potatoes to market; and I know my wife will never really forgive me for not buying back the “90” when I had the opportunity last year. You will gather we had four of the marque and I have never met anybody who, having had one, did not have another and did not wish “they were still making them.”
Very few contemporary models could get from A to B in shorter time or climb the average main road gradient faster—the difficult customer could always be disposed of by waiting for an up-gradiant, no car has ever had better brakes. Truly was it claimed—”The Invincible Talbot.”
I am, Yours, etc.,
Prescot, Lancs. Gerald Cleave.