​A small, but dedicated, group of Enthusiasts gathered not far from Chepstow, over the weekend of 3rd to 6th July for a tour of the River Wye Valley and Brecon Beacons (now known as Bannau Brycheiniog and pronounced ‘ban-aye bruch-ein-iog’. if you can get your tongue round it!). 
The campers and caravaners (including Gar with his ‘Flying Shower Curtain’), I understand, enjoyed an evening round a camp fire and have no doubt that there was a little alcohol involved too.  The camp was in the field attached to the local village hall and only a few yards up a hill from the village green.

We were very grateful to Liam and his family who put a lot of work in to organising the weekend for us.
Having driven down on Friday evening to a nearby pub Pat and I drove to the campsite first thing on Saturday morning, joining the others who were present shortly before 8:00 am.  The rest continued to arrive until we had a full complement of eight cars.
​
Liam and his friend James were driving identical fully functioning, Ex-Metropolitan Police Rover P6 V8 cars although their blue flashing lights were covered up.  Gar was driving his Trans Mondeo, Betty (used to be Barry), Phil and Lorraine were in Big Rov their Rover P5B, Gus had taken Henry, his JC Midge, Pat and I were in Bill, Pat’s MGB GT, Lincoln was behind the wheel of his early Austin Metro and Mike, a local villager, was in his bright yellow and hot Seat Cupra.  Also to be seen over the weekend was Liam’s recent acquisition, a diesel Mk1 Ford Transit.

​We set off on the first section of our run, to Tintern Abbey, for a photoshoot, a short run of about twenty minutes, which passed uneventfully.  Uneventful sections of a run are good!

Photographs having been taken the next section of our run was quite short, in fact just 0.9 miles long to The Old Station, Tintern, for another photoshoot.  Isolated from the national rail network there are two railway carriages which are appropriately painted in the cream and brown colours of the Great Western Railway which served the West Country and South Wales prior to nationalisation after the second World War, although the carriages are very much newer than that!  We all lined up in front of the carriages and, again, photographs were taken. ​The station had long been retired but the facilities are being preserved and the signal box was surrounded in scaffolding.  The loos were popular as well!  Liam’s original plan had been to have breakfast here but the café did not open for an hour or so and breakfast had previously been rescheduled for our next stop.

On our way again and we were driving up the splendid valley of the River Wye to Monmouth.  Unfortunately, there was a certain amount of chaos at the traffic lights onto the A40 and we lost three of the cars.  Not only that, we missed them whilst waiting for them to rejoin us.  They headed for Symonds Yat Rock but did not go far enough to find the car park and we met them coming back against us on our drive up to Symonds Yat Rock.  The single track lane up to the car parks was traumatic with heavy traffic in both directions and less than inches to spare between the cars travelling in either direction, between walls and rock faces and expensive paint work!  In some cases, it looked as if the cars would never get through the gaps (I was glad that I had chosen the MGB GT for the run and not our XJ6!). 

Drivers going downhill must have wondered why our MGB GT had a police escort, front and rear, between the two Rover P6 cars.  However, the presence of the police cars didn’t encourage them to get out of the way! We eventually arrived safely at the car parks and a wooden shed housing a kitchen that served tea, coffee and breakfast baps which were eaten in their outdoor seating area.  It was here that the others all caught up with us.  Certainly, my breakfast went down well. The able bodied members of the group walked over the footbridge across the road we had battled up to view the gorge and the views were, I am advised, spectacular.

​Leaving Symonds Yat in the rear view mirrors we were behind schedule so headed straight to Apple County Cider as we had a time slot for our demonstration and tasting.  We parked up and were led into a garden area where we were suitably entertained by our host educating us about the manufacture of cider and giving us tasters of their products.  Our host’s mother also produces apple juice and we were given samples of that as well.  It all tasted very nice and most of us bought a bottle or two of the products of the farm

​​Whilst we were sat listening to the presentation there was a cracking noise from a wooden bench seat.  Lorraine stood up and very quickly moved away leaving Phil and me sat there.  It felt relatively safe but suddenly there was another ‘crack’ and the seat base collapsed altogether with our bums in mid air!  Fortunately we were all right although I don’t know if the seat will be repaired, the odd job man said that he would have a go at it but that was before he had seen the remains! 

​Moving on after sampling the cider we retraced our steps to Skenfrith Castle hoping for a look at the ruins and even paddle in the local river.  Unfortunately, there was a wedding which took all the Castle parking spaces and those of the pub across the road.  With nowhere to park or to look at we moved on and headed for Abergavenny and then to Furnace Sidings Station on the  Pontypool and Blaenavon Railway.  The station was a useful watering hole providing cake and tea/coffee and loos.  After a refreshing break we headed on again returning over the Brecon Beacons (or whatever they call them now, which in unpronounceable to an Englishman like me).

​After refreshments we headed towards Abergavenny over the Beacons and stopped at a view point where the two Police cars went topless and briefly exposed their blue lights which were soon covered up again before we proceeded down the road.

T​he views from the top of the Beacons were magnificent which ever direction one looked in.  Once the blue lights were covered up we progressed down hill to Abergavenny where some of us replenished stocks of high quality Shell E5 Petrol from the Waitrose Petrol Station before heading off again through Usk to the camp site.

Before the village entertainment started Finley, Liam’s son, insisted on demonstrating his skills on his push bike.  I don’t know how but somehow Gus had been persuaded to lie down on the field and he did with his eyes closed.  Helen, Finley’s mother, seemed much concerned about the proceedings. However, Finley achieved his objective and not one Gus was hurt making this photograph!  (Apologies for the quality of the photograph, but it is an action shot!).
​
I believe that the village entertainment went on into the night and a good time was had by all whilst Pat and I drove on to Cricklade for a drive round the Cotswolds with the Gloucestershire MG Owners Club on their Cotswolds Caper charity run the following day.
A great day was had by all and a big thank you to Liam for organising it.

​Before the Cars
Jeremy Clarkson was born in Yorkshire in April 1960 and began his working life far away from television. His parents famously built a business around selling Paddington Bear toys before Clarkson moved into journalism and local newspapers. (Wikipedia)
Like many great motoring writers, he didn't start by testing Ferraris. He started by writing whatever he could get paid for. Local newspapers led to motoring journalism, and motoring journalism led to something that would change British television forever.


The Accidental Television Star
In 1988 Clarkson joined the original format of Top Gear.
At the time, Top Gear was informative, worthy and about as exciting as a motorway service station sandwich.
Then Clarkson arrived.

According to former producer Jon Bentley, Clarkson stood out because he was opinionated, irreverent and, crucially, funny. Bentley later recalled that Clarkson could make cars entertaining rather than simply informative. (Wikipedia)
That was the breakthrough.

Clarkson understood something many television executives had missed; people don't really care about cars, they care about stories.

• A road test became a comedy sketch.
• A performance figure became an argument.
• A family hatchback became an opportunity for ridicule.

The formula sounds obvious now, but at the time it was revolutionary.

Controversial? Absolutely
No honest article about Clarkson can ignore controversy.
Throughout his career he has generated criticism from politicians, pressure groups, broadcasters and newspaper columnists. His outspoken style became almost as famous as the cars themselves. (Wikipedia)
Yet controversy often seemed to fuel his popularity.

Many viewers felt Clarkson was saying what ordinary enthusiasts were thinking. Others felt he crossed the line.
Either way, people kept watching and Top Gear kept growing.

A Quote That Explains Everything
Perhaps the best description of Clarkson came not from Clarkson himself but from producer Jon Bentley, who said he was "looking for someone who could make cars on television fun". (Wikipedia)
That's really the key.

• Not accurate.
• Not educational.
• Not responsible
  
  

...but definitely fun. 

​Clarkson recognised that enthusiasm is infectious. And before long, Britain was infected. By the late 1990s, the loud Yorkshireman with the floppy hair was no longer just a motoring journalist.
He was becoming a national institution.
​
In Part 2 we'll look at the period many enthusiasts still regard as the golden age: the relaunch of Top Gear, the arrival of Richard Hammond and James May, and how three middle-aged men managed to turn a motoring program into a global phenomenon.

The start of the new millennium found Britain’s motor industry in unfamiliar territory. Gone were the days when Austin, Morris, Triumph and Rover dominated the home market under British ownership. Instead, many of the country’s best-known marques were owned by overseas companies. BMW controlled MINI, Ford owned Jaguar, Land Rover and Aston Martin, Volkswagen had Bentley, while Rolls-Royce Motor Cars was preparing to begin a new chapter under BMW.

To some, it looked as though Britain had lost its motor industry.
In reality, quite the opposite was happening.

British factories were becoming some of the most productive in Europe. Design studios in Coventry, Gaydon, Warwickshire, Crewe and Oxford were producing cars that would sell around the globe. Engineering talent remained first-class, while overseas investment was modernising plants that only a decade earlier had uncertain futures.
​
The 2000s also saw a shift in what buyers wanted. Traditional family saloons gave way to hatchbacks and compact SUVs, premium brands became increasingly mainstream, and nostalgia became a surprisingly effective sales tool. Cars didn’t just have to be practical anymore—they had to have personality.
Several manufacturers got that formula exactly right.

Few cars have faced a tougher challenge than the new MINI. Replacing the original Mini, which had remained in production for more than forty years, was always going to divide opinion.

When BMW retained the Mini brand following the break-up of the Rover Group, many questioned whether a German company could successfully recreate one of Britain’s most loved cars. Fortunately, they didn’t try.
​
Rather than building a modern copy, BMW commissioned an entirely new design. American designer Frank Stephenson captured the character of Sir Alec Issigonis’s original without making it feel like a retro pastiche. The round headlamps, floating roof, upright windscreen and wheels pushed to each corner all echoed the classic Mini, but the new car was larger, safer and far more refined.

Underneath, it was a thoroughly modern hatchback. Early cars used the Tritec 1.6-litre engine, developed jointly by BMW and Chrysler, while the Cooper S gained an Eaton supercharger that transformed the MINI into one of the most entertaining hot hatches of its generation.

Owners quickly discovered something else.
The new MINI wasn’t merely quick—it was tremendous fun.

Sharp steering, minimal body roll and a chassis that seemed to encourage enthusiastic driving earned it praise from virtually every motoring publication. Journalists frequently described it as offering “go-kart handling”, a phrase that BMW was only too happy to adopt in its advertising.

​Production centered on Oxford, where BMW invested heavily in modernising the historic Cowley plant. Body pressings came from Swindon while engines were built at Hams Hall near Birmingham, creating a genuinely British manufacturing network despite German ownership. The investment paid handsome dividends. By the middle of the decade the Oxford factory was producing well over 200,000 cars annually, with the vast majority exported to more than 70 countries. The MINI rapidly became one of Britain’s biggest automotive success stories and proved that premium small cars could command premium prices without putting buyers off.

It also launched an entire family of cars. Convertible, Clubman and later the Countryman all stemmed from the original 2001 hatchback, creating a model range that continues to thrive today.
​
Perhaps the greatest compliment is that, twenty-five years on, the original BMW MINI already enjoys modern classic status.

Today almost every manufacturer sells SUVs, but at the beginning of the 2000s the market was still finding its feet. Land Rover had spotted the opportunity earlier than most.

Development of the Freelander began in the early 1990s under the codename CB40. The brief was straightforward enough: build a smaller, more affordable Land Rover that retained genuine off-road ability while appealing to families who spent most of their time on tarmac.

That meant abandoning some long-standing Land Rover traditions. Instead of a separate ladder chassis, the Freelander used a monocoque body. Permanent four-wheel drive remained, but the car was designed to be as comfortable in supermarket car parks as it was on muddy tracks.

It struck exactly the right balance.

The Freelander quickly became Britain’s best-selling four-wheel-drive vehicle and, for several years, Europe’s best-selling compact 4x4. Buyers appreciated the commanding driving position, practical interior and reassuring Land Rover image.

It wasn’t perfect, of course.

Early examples developed an unfortunate reputation for head gasket failures on K-Series petrol engines, while some transmission components proved less durable than owners had hoped. Yet even these shortcomings couldn’t stop sales.

Land Rover continued refining the model throughout the decade before introducing the all-new Freelander 2 in 2006.

The second generation represented a huge leap forward. Built on a more sophisticated platform shared with Volvo products within Ford’s Premier Automotive Group, it featured vastly improved refinement, better quality materials and more powerful diesel engines. It retained genuine off-road ability thanks to Land Rover’s innovative Terrain Response system while becoming far more comfortable on the motorway.

For many buyers it was the first Land Rover they could realistically afford.
​
The Freelander also demonstrated something increasingly important about Britain’s motor industry. Although ownership changed from BMW to Ford during its life, the engineering expertise remained firmly rooted in Solihull. The badge may have travelled internationally, but the knowledge stayed in Britain.

​Mention the Jaguar X-Type today and someone will almost certainly repeat the old joke that it was “just a Ford Mondeo in a suit.”
It’s a neat line; it’s also a considerable oversimplification.

​When Ford acquired Jaguar in 1989, one objective was clear. Jaguar needed a smaller saloon capable of competing with the BMW 3 Series and Mercedes-Benz C-Class. Without one, the company simply couldn’t grow.

The resulting X-Type arrived in 2001.

While it shared its basic platform architecture with the Mondeo, Jaguar engineers substantially revised the suspension, bodyshell, drivetrain and interior. Early models featured permanent all-wheel drive, something the Mondeo did not, while the cabin delivered a traditional Jaguar atmosphere with walnut veneer, leather upholstery and classic instrumentation.

The styling deliberately echoed the larger S-Type and XJ, giving buyers a recognisable Jaguar identity in a more manageable size.

Production took place at Halewood on Merseyside.

Only a few years earlier the factory had been producing Ford Escorts. Following a £300 million transformation, it became one of Europe’s most advanced automotive plants, capable of building premium vehicles to exceptionally high standards. The change was remarkable and demonstrated the confidence Ford had in British manufacturing.
The X-Type soon became Jaguar’s best-selling model.

Diesel engines arrived in 2003, dramatically improving its competitiveness across Europe, while the beautifully integrated estate version added extra practicality without sacrificing the car’s elegant proportions.

Sales inevitably slowed as competitors introduced newer models, but the X-Type succeeded in bringing thousands of first-time customers into Jaguar showrooms. It also laid important foundations for the modern compact Jaguars that followed.

Interestingly, attitudes towards the X-Type have softened considerably over the past decade. As the “Mondeo with wood” jokes have faded, enthusiasts have begun appreciating it for what it actually was: a comfortable, refined and well-built sporting saloon that represented excellent value.

​Sometimes history is kinder than contemporary opinion.

Looking back, it’s striking just how much confidence Britain’s manufacturers showed during these early years of the decade.
​
BMW invested heavily in MINI. Ford poured hundreds of millions into Jaguar and Land Rover. Bentley was being transformed under Volkswagen ownership, while Aston Martin was preparing an entirely new generation of sports cars.

Only one major manufacturer remained outside this wave of optimism; MG Rover.
Its story would become one of the defining—and most emotional—chapters of the British motor industry during the 2000s.
​
To be continued…