Magazines
British Car Magazine - October/November 2000
It was a windy winter day on South Beach, Miami, and even though the sun came out every once in a while from behind the clouds - after all this IS the Sunshine State - it was pretty darn cold. Despite the elements, a great number of people showed up that Saturday morning at the exquisite beachside Ocean Drive stretch for what is called the Annual Art Deco fair. There were singers, there were clowns, there were even hot-dog stands. But most importantly, there was a small section of the street where a dozen of antique cars were on display. And that's naturally where I was headed. Squeezing through the 'oohing' and 'wowing' crowd, and dodging the braided rope surrounding the display area, I finally reached the subject of this article, a 1925 Alvis 12/50 SC bearing the license plate HP 9877. It looked like a modest and simple drophead coupe, without too many bells or whistles. But, as the owner John Layzell assured me, the car had quite a story to tell.
A Racing heritage
The Alvis 12/50's family tree finds its roots in the year 1920, John
explained, when the first Alvis 10/30 came off the production line, with
30 BHP. In 1921 came the 11/40, which boasted 40 BHP, and in 1922 the
12/40 was introduced. The model designations derive from horsepower rating
system peculiar to British cars. The first number, 10, 11, or 12,
indicated the British Automobile Club horsepower rating upon which tax was
levied - the higher the rating, the more you paid. The second number
indicated the actual BHP. In 1923, the first 12/50 debuted and immediately
came to prominence after winning a 200-mile race at Brooklands, the first
purpose-built track in Europe, at an average speed of 93.29 MPH. Whereas
the earlier models had side-valve engines, the 12/50 was the first to have
an overhead block engine. Additionally, the 12/50, featured an aluminum
engine top, engine base as well as aluminum axles. In fact, the name Alvis
originates from "Al" for the scientific name of Aluminum, and
"vis" the Latin word for strength. Approximately 3,600 12/50s
were produced, and an estimated 450 have survived. The 12/50 SC was a
special edition model which was identical to the 12/50, only instead of a
1500cc engine, it had a 1600cc one. A much fewer number of the SC model
was made, numbering in the low hundreds. According to records, out of the
15 SCs that survive worldwide today, there is only one in North America.
And I was looking at it.
Uncle George
George McKerrow walked into Alvis Works, the factory and showroom
located in Coventry, England, on Easter Saturday 1925 hoping to buy a car.
Due to the holiday, the office was practically closed. There were no
workers at the shop, and very few cars on display. The receptionist on
duty introduced George to the only person around who was knowledgeable
enough to talk about the car. That person proved to be none other than the
Alvis racing driver Major Maurice Harvey, the driver who won the 1923
Brooklands race, which brought the 12/50 into the limelight. Major Harvey
showed George one of the lonely completed cars in the showroom, and
explained to him what did what. He even offered George a test drive. But
George politely declined and instead simply bought the car right there and
then. The car was a 12/50 SC 2/3 seater, body by Cross & Ellis, and it
included front wheel brakes, offered for the first time as an option. It
sold for 570 English Pounds, plus 25 English Pounds for the brakes option.
Harvey advised George that the engine had been run during testing for
quite a bit, but that the car should be kept under 30 MPH for the first
1,000 miles. George asked what happened then, and Harvey replied,
"Put your foot down and if you don't reach 70 bring it back!"
The only time the car was returned to Alvis Works was for a gears
replacement job that the manufacturer offered. The car was first
registered on April 8, 1925, and has been carrying its original British
registration number, HP9877, ever since. George, a mechanical and
electrical engineer by profession, made a number of minor modifications,
including replacing the three-piece windshield with a single pane with a
wiper, but kept a detailed diary for the car in which he listed these
changes. According to the diary, the car had broken down only twice during
the 61 years he owned it. "Uncle George had always said the car would
never become a museum piece," John recalls with a smile, "and
that it should justify its own existence." When Uncle George passed
away in 1986, John inherited the car and its diary. The car had over
300,000 miles on it.
Natural born driver
"I have had a passion for cars since I was 3 years old. My
parents tell me that as a mere toddler I already had numerous car toys and
was able to name most of the vehicles on the road," John says with a
chuckle. He learned to drive when he was 11 on a friend's Morris 8, and
during one of his first attempts, John turned the car over while going
around a corner too fast. But that didn't stop him. When he was 13, he
bought his first car -- a 1932 Austin 7 -- for 25 Pounds, and drove it
around the side roads ("But not illegally!" he asserts) until he
got his license at the age of 17. "I managed to start and head a car
club at my boarding school, and drove to school every day for years, under
the pretense that it was needed at the club," he recalls with a sly
smile. "I had to care for it on my own. The Austin taught me a lot
about car maintenance and restoration at a relatively young age."
Once John got more adept at driving, and the prospect of turning cars on
their side was less likely, John drove the Alvis for the first time in
1961 under the watchful eye of his uncle. Since then, John had kept
driving it whenever he got the chance, and fondly remembers driving it
around the Scottish highlands with his uncle by his side on more than one
occasion. When John inherited HP9877 in 1986, he decided to hold onto the
car. "When he left the car with me, I was quite touched. I was one of
three or four other people besides Uncle George who ever drove the car. I
felt a sentimental bond with the car -- it often brings to mind cherished
memories. I had to keep it," he said.
The restoration
When John got the car, it wasn't in bad shape, but it needed some work
to repair the wear and tear of more than half a century. After spending
over two years in storage, the car was transported in 1989 to Wilkinson's,
a Derby, England-based company that specializes in restoring old
automobiles, for a complete makeover. "They took their time and had
difficulties finding parts but they did the job right," he said.
"The project was quite expensive. I had to pay them in installments
over a few years' time." The company restored the body and the
convertible top, rebuilt the engine, and reupholstered the front seats.
They informed John that for an additional cost they could repaint the car
in the same original color - royal blue, and method - hand paint by brush,
rather than simply spray paint it. John gave them the go ahead and it came
out nicely. Today one can still see the vertical brush strokes if one
looks at the car from the right angle. "All the parts you see on this
car are original," John said, "except for the 20-inch well base
artillery wheels, which are the correct wheels, though not the
originals." The passenger cabin interiors were restored as well. The
wooden dashboard panel, which was taken down and re-polished, now proudly
displays the original instrument dials - all in working order. The car was
then shipped to Miami, Florida, where John was now living and working.
John stored it in his garage, and surveyed what had to be done to make it
eligible to participate in shows and contests. It wasn't much, and so he
decided to tie up the loose ends himself. Since the interiors of the
rumble sear were not touched by the Wilkinson's company in England, he had
to disassemble the entire seat. He restored the wooden frame of the seat,
replaced the leather around the cushions, and repaired the folding
mechanism. Also, "the Alvis was not quite used to, or for that matter
designed for, the scorching 90 plus degrees of the Florida sun," John
added. "The engine would overheat and the coolant would start boiling
constantly. So I installed a small electric cooling fan behind the
radiator, which can be taken down in a matter of minutes." This and
the addition of WaterWetter to the coolant, resolved the situation.
However, John was faced with another heat-related problem. The high-octane
gasoline of modern times caused the engine to die occasionally due to
repeated vapor lock and boiling fuel in the carburetor. John installed a
fuel filter bracket to distance the filter from the manifold, added a
thick layer of aluminum insulation over all fuel lines leading from the
gas tank to the engine, and began adding Marvel Mystery Oil to the fuel.
And that eventually took care of that. The next step was to install signal
lights. Originally the car came with no signal lights, and the driver's
window had a triangular flap stitched in, through which the driver could
stick his hand out and signal without having to roll down the window. But
that system obviously has its drawbacks today, namely hardly anybody knows
how to signal by hand any more, and besides, it is sort of dangerous to
drive around Miami making hand gestures of any kind, no matter how
innocent these gestures may be. So John mounted a small inconspicuous
wooden extension to the bottom of the dashboard, which has a double-poled
switch for left and right signals, as well as two tiny lights to tell the
driver which signal is on. And since the car didn't have separate signal
lights, he wired the signal switch to the existing lights -- the smaller
headlights at the front and to the brake lights at the back. And finally,
John installed two safety belts in the rumble seat. "I actually drive
the car to most shows," he explains, "and resort to a trailer
only if the distance is 100 miles or more. Often my family comes with me
and the children sit in the back. The safety belts make the rumble seat,
which is already daring as it is, a bit more safe." For the last
decade, HP 9877 has attended many shows and exhibits, both locally and
nationally. Among the awards won are the Antique Automobile Club of
America First Senior award, and the Veteran Motor Car Club of America
Silver and then Gold Award of Excellence. Following his uncle's legacy,
John keeps the car out of the museum and drives it around on the weekends
and holidays. "I don't keep it in a garage and only let it out for
the shows," he says. "It is a car, and it was made to be
driven." But even John acknowledges the car has limitations. It can't
do very well on the Interstate highways, where all other cars whiz by
doing 80 MPH, he says. The car is much more happy riding along country
roads and even though the car's top speed is said to be near 70, he
usually feels most comfortable driving 45-50. "It's a hard ride and
you feel every bump," he says with a smile. "I love to drive the
car around," he adds. "I am the kind of person who likes
everything in a car to be working properly, and if something isn't right,
I fix it right away. I usually try to repair it myself, which adds to the
challenge of owning an old car." "The satisfaction of owning
such a rare and out of the ordinary automobile is very
self-fulfilling," he says. "I intend to drive it for as long as
I live."
Four o'clock was coming around and the fleet of old cars at the Annual Art Deco was preparing to disperse. More onlookers congregated, taking long last looks, as the braided rope came down and the veteran automobiles started their engines. With 75 years of faithfully following the curves of the road behind it, with more than 300,000 miles chalked on its odometer, and with its second master at its helm, HP 9877 was getting ready to drive home. And as I watched a beaming John Layzell pack up and get into the car, I realized that John the man was not a man at all, but a happy and excited young boy, getting ready for yet another ride with his uncle.