 Back in 1919, a new British Cyclecar appeared on the market. The AV was manufactured by Ward and Avey in Middlesex between 1919 and 1924. One of the more successful cyclecars, it was based on a design bought from Carden and built in the factory they had previously occupied. The first model produced was a mono-car and I was recently invited to drive the only road going example. The V-twin JAP engine is rear mounted and exposed at the back of the car with a two-speed epicyclic gearbox attached. Steering is by wire and bobbin via a centre pivot axle which also incorporates a coil spring for suspension. The front axle is only 30 inches wide with the main body akin to a streamlined coffin only a cigar shop owner would commission. Built of plywood and apparently even compressed paper, it feels remarkably comfortable and you feel like an Edwardian fighter pilot when seated. After being towed to the scrutineer, I tried to familiarise myself with all the controls. Starting the beast requires a doctorate in cyclecarology, with the throttle and choke levers needing to be in a precise position and the oil feed set, otherwise all attempts at starting will be in vain. Firing up the car involves pulling a handle directly upwards which in turn is connected to a chain which is wrapped around a simple ratcheted pulley on the end of the crank of the engine. Each failed attempt requires the ratchet to be reset. Now, after several attempts, the engine fired into life and I hastily locate the starting handle into its holder and jump into the cockpit behind the wheel. With a certain amount of stabbing in the dark, I discover the right-hand foot pedal operates the epicyclic gear and I slowly move forward. A hand brake lever on the outside of the car is linked to the only other foot pedal and I make note of this as a trundle off down the little roads of the showground. Still in first gear, I approach a bend in the road. I put my foot on what I assume is the clutch and this engages 2nd gear, finding myself hurtling towards the bend at three times the desired speed. Panic set in and not knowing where to put my hands and feet, I pull on the hand brake and the car jumps to a halt, stalling the engine. After removal of my heart from my mouth, I gather my thoughts and try to think rationally about how to tame the AV. I get the car started again and then practice using the clutch and gear system along the interlocking roads within the showground while at the same time finding the right spot for the throttle and choke. After a while, I pluck up courage to select the devil 2nd gear. The revs of the engine drop and the car accelerates swiftly like a coiled spring to about 30 mph. With the lack of engine noise and the combination of the suspension, I feel like I am floating down the road. This momentary lapse of concentration is erased as I am aware of another bend rapidly approaching. Just then my previous practice pays off and I somehow find 1st gear and slow down to take the corner. After several more practice runs, I drive back to our meeting point ready to be the pace car for the afternoon selection of cyclecar friendly driving tests. I can see why the AV monocar was so popular in its day. Like me, the owners must have felt like a WW1 fighter pilot. However, I’m sure if you look back through old copies of ‘The Cyclecar’ magazine, it is full of stories of crashed AV’s and lucky escapes with the owners wiping sweat from their brows. Text by Tim Gunn. Images courtesy of: Geoff Gray – Nick Harrop – Peter Allen. Thanks go to Roland Duce. Micky Hudson, Bob Jones and Peter Allen. |
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Killing the AV Monocar gremlins.
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