By: Eric Weiner

Change is hard.

It’s human nature to cling to the familiar even as the world around you constantly shifts. But building cars is a sink-or-swim game, punishing the obsolescent to the watery grave of history. Then there’s Morgan. The quirky Malvern, U.K.-based outfit builds British man-of-wars compared to the advanced nuclear submarines on the road today, cobbling together wood-framed sports cars by hand the same way it has since the first four-wheeled Morgan hit the streets in 1936.

That first four-wheeler, the Morgan 4/4, has been in near-continuous production for 80 years. To this day it has remained a lightweight, open-top sports car with the engine up front sending power to the rear wheels with a hand-built ash body. Even for British sports car loyalists used to the quirky nature of Triumphs, MGs, and Healeys, driving a Morgan is an experience unto itself. Its combination of purity and oddity tends to attract people with a flair for the individual. My dad, Perry Weiner, is one of them.

“I wanted something fun I could just get out and drive; I liked that Morgans were different, something nobody else had,” he says of his 1963 Morgan 4/4. “And I couldn’t afford an E-type.” My dad bought the car in New Hope, Pennsylvania, in 1991 with 1-year-old me along for the ride. Over the years it would ferry me as well as my brother and sister (whichever of us was lucky that day) on countless Sunday drives and Morgan club meetups.

My dad reached out to the Morgan factory in England not long after his purchase and learned that his 4/4 was the final Series IV model in production, built December 17, 1962. The Series IV 4/4 started production in 1961, using a 1.3-liter four-cylinder engine shared with the Ford Classic. Power was up to 56 horsepower from the previous 39 in the Series III, but the biggest upgrade was the standard 11-inch front disc brakes. The original hood strap was lost, but the car still wears its original Old English White paint and red interior, as well as the optional strapless hood, tach-less dashboard, and oddball push/pull four-speed manual shifter.

Along with plenty of little dents and paint chips, the Weiner family Morgan has had quite a few patchwork adjustments over the years. For one, the original engine blew while climbing a hill in 1992, replaced by a 65-hp, 1.5-liter inline-four, which was also used in the Series V Morgan 4/4 and Ford Cortina. My dad had the cylinders bored out for a total of 1.6 liters of displacement, and he added a Weber downdraft carburetor to replace the original Zenith. Tired of dimming lights at stop signs, he swapped out the generator for an alternator. Then came the revamped cooling system with new radiator, fan, auxiliary fan, and self-designed aluminum shroud to funnel air into the system. He replaced the rear Armstrong Selectaride shocks with Konis, added Panasport wheels, and tore out the bench seating in favor of buckets he fashioned himself from plywood and rolled aluminum.

“No matter how much or little you do to a Morgan, it’s still a blast,” he says. “And it’s not part of a culture where purists will look down on you if every little nut and bolt isn’t correct. Everyone’s Morgan is unique, just as they were when they came from the factory.”

The wood-rimmed steering wheel, a 40th-anniversary gift from my mother, nicely matches the re-stained dashboard and refaced gauges.

Nothing makes you want to strap on a pair of goggles and leather gloves like driving a Morgan. With roughly 70 hp and a total weight of about 1,500 pounds, the car is positively alive in your hands. Exposed to the elements, with the hood stretching ahead and the road so close you could literally reach down and file your fingernails on it, a Morgan provides driving pleasure to every one of your senses. It also channels every road imperfection, riding stiffly with its live rear axle over potholes and eliciting a disconcerting squeak of the wood frame. The benefits far outweigh the drawbacks, though, with totally flat cornering and sensational steering feel from the unassisted Cam Gears box. “At its best the sense of speed is exhilarating, and at its worst it’s like driving a stagecoach over a rutted desert track,” my dad says.

Lately he’s been toying with the idea of restoring the car, although he’s worried that it would affect how often he’d drive it. A common strategy is to transplant all of the running gear onto a new tub and frame and take the opportunity to paint the body while it’s removed. He’s thinking of maybe painting it navy blue; I’m thinking of stealing it from the garage so he can’t. It would be like one of my siblings getting a face transplant. My childhood took place in that car. The 4/4 wasn’t perfect, but it evolved and hopefully improved as time went on, and we fixed the things that were broken. Then again, maybe I’m just clinging a little too tightly to the past. But isn’t that the point?

The Specs

Engine – 1.6L, OHV I-4; 70 hp @ 5,000 rpm (est), 85 lb-ft @ 2,300 rpm (est)

Transmission – 4-speed manual

Drive – Rear-wheel

Front Suspension – Sliding pillar, coil spring

Rear Suspension – Solid axle, semi-elliptic springs

Brakes F/R – Discs/drums

Weight  1,500 lb (est)

The Info

Years Produced  1961-1963

Number Sold – 202

Original Price – $2,394 (1963)

Value Today – $27,900*

Fiat Powered Morgans!!

This attached document is a very good research article on the Fiat motors used by Morgan in the 80s.  It is well written and worth reading whether you have a Fiat powered Morgan or not.

Click Here – Dave Philpot’s Fiat Report

[As far as I know there is only one Fiat powered Morgan in MOGSouth.  The 1985 Propane powered Plus 4 with the Fiat 2.0L of Stew Mosbey. Mark] 

In the summer of 1974, against the backdrop of the Lebanese Civil War, ceramics expert and Morgan sports car enthusiast John Carswell set off with his young family from their home in Beirut on an expedition across Asia and the Middle East.

Their mode of transport was their beloved motor car, a Morgan 4/4 four seater, named ‘Speedy’. Following in the steps of Ibn Battuta, their destination was the Maldives, where Carswell hoped to find evidence of the Chinese blue and white pottery which he was researching.

The family travelled via Syria, Jordan, Saudi Arabia and Kuwait, from where they sailed to Bombay (Mumbai). What followed was an extraordinary journey across the length of India to Sri Lanka and from there to the Maldives. Speedy Motor tells, with wit and sparkle, the trials and tribulations of one family car over several decades in the Middle East and latterly Europe.

When the family were forced to flee Beirut during the Civil War, Speedy temporarily fell into the hands of Hezbollah but years later ‘he’ was reunited with his family in England. John Carswell’s vivid account of a unique expedition and a much-loved car provides a vibrant portrait of a region in the grip of change.

John Carswell

ISBN: 9781784537265

Publication Date: 30 Nov 2016

Morgan are pleased to announce the new EV3 Junior

This exciting new vehicle is aimed at children aged 6 years and over.  The EV Junior is a fully electric replica of the EV3 and is capable of 16kph. Each unit will be bespoke built to order with flexible colour and trim levels. Prices start at £6,662.50 + VAT

In 2016 Morgan announced their first production electric vehicle.

Capable of 100mph and 0-60 in 8 seconds, and still entirely coach-built, the EV3 has received great acclaim from motoring press and enthusiasts alike following its launch at the Geneva Motor Show.

Morgan continues to celebrate this new chapter in their manufacturing history by announcing the arrival of the EV3 Junior targeting aspiring young Morgan owners!

The EV3 Junior is entirely handmade and features a carbon fibre body, wooden dashboard and hand stitched leather interior.

The EV3 Junior is capable of travelling at 16kph forward and in reverse at a limited speed. A choice of Sport Red, Sport Green or Sport Ivory paint, with black or tan leather, is offered as standard. Any paint colour from Morgan’s range of 40,000 can also be selected at a small cost. Further personalisation is offered with fun sticker packs which can be re-applied as desired.

Other features include working lights and authentic enamel badge detailing. Charging is carried out by the charger provided and takes 4 hours. An average range of 10 miles can be achieved depending on driving style.

Morgan cars are known for being lightweight and small, however the EV3 Junior is smaller than most and therefore is only suitable for children over the age of 6. The EV3 Junior is fully CE certified.

Each EV3 Junior is supplied with a handbook and a 12-month warranty.

Seduced by the idea of a cheap Morgan 4/4, our intrepid hero discovers the horrors that hide beneath the shade tree.

This article originally appeared in the November 1983 issue of Road & Track.

“Forty-five hundred dollars for a 1962 Morgan 4/4,” I said loud enough for my wife Barbara to hear. She was seated nearby at the breakfast table, reading that questionable part of the Sunday paper that contains no used car classifieds.

“Is that a good price?” she asked, trying hard not to look like a person who is about to have half her joint life savings wiped out by a single check.

“I haven’t seen one that cheap in years,” I responded. “If the car’s any good, that’s an excellent price.”

For nearly a year I’d been setting money aside for a project car, preferably something with the words Jaguar, Morgan or Lotus on the grille. The money was building up in my savings account much the way voltage builds up in a static electricity generator, and the first car to come along with the right credentials was going to get zapped with a bolt of greenbacks. In one year I’d saved literally tens of dollars. The rest would be borrowed against our Datsun.

I called the owner of the Morgan and got directions to his house. He lived in the foothills north of Los Angeles on a five-acre horse ranch, way back in one of those steep canyons that make the evening news three times a year during the fire, flood and mudslide seasons. A place where the occasional earthquake is just gravy. Two hours later we pulled into the ranch.

The Morgan sat on the front lawn in the shade of a huge oak tree, strategically placed to melt the resolve of tight-fisted car buyers. It was dark green with black fenders and a leather strap across the hood. From our vantage point in the driveway, the Morgan looked beautiful. I let out a low whistle. “I think we may have found ourselves a car,” I said.

The owner, a pleasant fellow, appeared and showed us around the car. Up close the Morgan had a few rust spots along the fender seams and the interior looked fairly weatherbeaten, but overall it appeared sound enough. It would be fun, I thought, to paint this car and reupholster the seats in nice leather.

We looked under the hood at the Ford 109E engine, which was covered with oil-soaked cobwebs. The oil appeared to be the product of excessive blow-by from the valve cover. I shrugged. The English Fords were sound engines, easy to work on and fun to rebuild. We looked in the trunk.

The trunk had problems. I wiggled a piece of the ash frame and a large chunk of the inner wheel arch came off in my hand. When I tried to put it back in place, the wood crumbled in my fingers like a slice of week-old pound cake. I apologized profusely, but the owner was quite good-natured about it. “Oh, that’s okay. All the wood is worthless in this car. Dry rot. It needs a whole new body frame. You can get one from a place out East for about $800.”

I got down on one knee and looked under the car.

“The steel chassis rails are all rusted out, too,” he added, “but you can still order a whole new chassis from the factory for less than $ 1500.”

He suggest we take a test drive, so I opened the driver’s door and the door came off in my hand. “Dry rot around the hinges,” the owner explained. I latched the door back in place and he said, “I’ll have to give you a push down the hill. The teeth are all gone on the ring gear and the battery’s pretty low anyway.” The car roared to life in a cloud of smoke, and settled down to the most complete collection of mechanical noises I’ve ever heard from a single running engine. Big-end rod knock, small-end rod knock, main bearing rumble, timing chain noise and deafening valve clatter. The only functioning instrument on the dash was the oil pressure gauge, which hovered between 3 and 5 psi when the cold engine was revved. I slipped the gearshift into 1st and we were off. “Skip 2nd gear,” the owner shouted over the absent exhaust system. “It’s missing a few teeth.”

“What’s that shrieking noise?”
”The rear end is bad.”
As we motored up the canyon road, thick clouds of blue smoke began pouring from the hood louvers and from under the dash. After a mile the smoke got so bad I couldn’t see the exact location of the road. It was like driving through the boys’ room at a high school basketball game. At halftime. I looked over at the owner, who smiled at me pleasantly through the haze, apparently oblivious to the choking fumes. I wondered if I was the only person who noticed the smoke. Was I dying? Maybe this is what it’s like, I thought. The car pitched wildly into a corner, and the man warned me to be careful because the sliding pillar suspension was badly worn and the spokes were all loose.

We clattered back to the ranch on 1 lb of oil pressure. I carefully parked the car beneath the tree, turned off the ignition, removed the door and got out.

“Well, what do you think?” The owner asked.

Having just been recently gassed, I struggled to collect my thoughts. What did I think? I thought the car was a wonderful collection of dreams held together by cobwebs and green paint. I thought if the car were a 1962 Ford or Chevy you’d have to pay the wrecker $35 to haul it away. I thought how wondrous it was that Morgans and a small handful of other cars in the world had such charm that a man could even hope to sell one in this deplorable condition. For money. With a straight face.

“Well,” I said, “the wood-rimmed steering wheel is in nice shape and the front fenders seem pretty sound . . . but $4500 seems like a lot of money for a steering wheel and some fenders. I think the rest of the car needs to be replaced.”

The owner looked at me with a mixture of amusement and genial pity. “The car is completely shot, of course,” he said, appealing to my sense of reason, “but a nicely restored Morgan will cost you two or three times what I’m asking. At $4500 I’m sure someone will buy the car and fix it up.”

I thanked the man for his time, and for the first time in my life I did the unthinkable. I turned around and walked away from an opportunity to buy an overpriced, worn-out, nearly unrestorable facade of an old British roadster that looked good sitting under an oak tree. Age, reason—something—had finally overtaken my usual witless optimism. Maybe it was the smoke. The owner was right, of course. There really was someone out there who would buy the car for $4500 and fix it up. But this time it wouldn’t be me.

As we drove back down the canyon toward home I felt oddly elated, remarkably carefree and suddenly wealthy. We stopped for lunch at a hamburger place. “Milkshakes all around,” I said to the waitress. “My wife and I have just come into a large sum of money.”

Barb stared out the cafe window and shook her head. “I really wanted that car when we first saw it,” she said. “How could such a neglected, worn-out old car look so good, sitting there on the front lawn?”

“It’s a Morgan,” I said. “And no one ever throws a Morgan away.”

‘Take the Morgan,’ they said. ‘It’s there to be enjoyed,’ they said…

There are no bad cars nowadays. There’s just bad car choice.

The Morgan 3 Wheeler is by no means a bad car. But choosing it for a 70-mile trip down the M3 on a freezing winter’s night? That’s not just bad. It’s verging on masochism.

It takes a special kind of madness to relish an experience like this. No journey has ever been so uncomfortable.

Imagine your worst traffic jam experience, then subtract about 20 degrees from the temperature in the climate-controlled cabin of your commuter-mobile. Imagine that when you do finally get moving at any sort of speed, the wind chill makes it even more miserable than being sat there in a sucking pit of Friday night misery.

Imagine that every lorry you pass fires shoals of grit in your face. Imagine a ride that feels like someone’s poured several pounds of said grit into a washing machine, thrown you in there with it and set it to fast spin.

Imagine how under such circumstances, the small bulb illuminating the speedo is about the closest thing to a friend you feel like you’ve got in the whole world.

Now imagine that bulb snuffing it with miles still to go before your journey is brought to an end by the sweet relief of home.

Most of all, though, imagine arriving home… completely smitten with this lovely, lovely car. Because that’s exactly what happened.

It would be pushing it to say we drove right past our front door and on to enjoy another few miles. But despite all the suffering, we had been completely charmed by the Morgan’s wonderfully old-school nature.

It’s not just the fact that it’s so cheerfully raw and involving to drive, either. It’s knowing that whenever you stop, people will gather round and ask if they can be your friend. Admittedly, a few blips of the throttle sent one of them scurrying off in tears, but we’re fairly sure that was just jealousy.

Either way, when people see you in one of these they fall in love with you, in exactly the way they wouldn’t if you were behind the wheel of any other eye-catching sports car. That’s unless they see you on the motorway on a cold Friday night, of course, in which case their overwhelming reaction is likely to be one of sympathy.

Which is all wrong, really. Because behind those chattering teeth, you’ll be the happiest driver for miles around.

MORGAN 3 WHEELER

Price £31,800
Price as tested £34,567
Economy 26.8mpg
Faults None
Expenses None