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Six decades ago, in a country where you could buy a perfectly acceptable Austin A40, Morris Minor or Ford Anglia for £600, it’s easy to see why the imported European 1-litre competition struggled to make itself relevant with price-tags of up to £1500 or more.
Foreign cars in general, even small family types that were inexpensive runabouts in their homelands, were still a forbidden fruit in ’50s Britain, particularly before the liberalisation of import quotas in 1959.
With WW2 still a recent memory, German cars did not always attract the right kind of attention from the British public.
Imports represented just 2.5% of a market that was completely dominated by the output of its indigenous industry – an industry whose killer instincts had been blunted somewhat by years of protectionist policies.
In this pre-Mini Britain of 40bhp, 70mph family cars that offered lots of value for money but not much joy, it could be argued that the complacent monoliths of BMC, Ford and Rootes were too preoccupied with fulfilling the backlog of suppressed demand to notice the fleabites that sales of these insurgents from the European Continent represented.
They could afford to ignore them: it stood to reason that no £1200 Auto Union or £1000 Saab was likely to have tempted a buyer away from a British product when you could have a Humber, a Wolseley or even a Jaguar for the same sort of money.
In truth, that buyer would probably never have crossed the threshold of a Rootes or BMC showroom anyway.
Relatively insensitive to price, he or she would have been somebody driven by a need for exclusivity and bound, perhaps, by a certain amount of historical marque loyalty to these distinctively engineered cars.
They were thought of not merely as transport, but hardcore ‘enthusiast’ automobiles for a small but quietly growing group of buyers whose tastes and pockets ran to such things in the UK.
With their mostly cheerful colour schemes and unfamiliar lines, they promised a world beyond the drab, grey utility of a Standard Eight and a week in Skegness, whisking the imagination to a sunlit upland of pavement cafés and sophisticated Continental living.
Though still selling well (in mainland Europe) into the ’60s, all four have their origins in the early ’50s.
All but the Saab can trace their roots to models that were being built before WW2.
The 1953 1100 was the first unitary edition of Fiat’s evergreen ‘Millecento’ line that, by way of styling tweaks (rear fins) and power increases (up 20bhp in 10 years) would remain a staple of the Italian motoring scene until 1969, crossing over with production of its successor, the 124.
Mechanically, the 1100’s well-honed rear-drive underpinnings, combined with a typically willing Fiat pushrod engine of above-average verve, showed what could still be done with utterly conventional engineering intelligently developed over a long period.
To British eyes this boxy little saloon appears the least-familiar car in this group, yet in numbers built it was by far the most prolific: Fiat sold 1.7 million of them – and that doesn’t include the afterlife the model enjoyed in India as the Premier Padmini.
This one, courtesy of serial car collector Fredrik Folkestad, is a German-assembled Neckar Europa, Neckar being a rebrand of the original pre-war NSU car-making arm that built Fiats under licence in Germany through to the early 1970s.
Folkestad’s main focus, however, is smoky two-strokes, and the DKW/Auto Union range in particular (C&SC, January 2013).
By the time his blue two-door 1000S was built in the early ’60s, DKW, then owned by Daimler-Benz, had reinvented itself as Auto Union.
Created as a more upmarket alternative to the Beetle, its chubby, rounded lines have their origins in the two-cylinder Meisterklasse and the three-cylinder Sonderklasse of the early post-war period.
Bored out to 980cc, the higher-compression 1000S, with its trademark wraparound ’screen, arrived in 1958 and ran through to 1963, latterly with front disc brakes.
It’s the only one of the assembled cars to retain a separate chassis, with its engine and gearbox/transaxle sitting well forward between its widely spaced box-section frame rails.
Folkestad’s Saab 96 is a perfect complement to his Auto Union; it’s a late two-stroke, triple-carb, four-speed, 55bhp example of a type that remained in production alongside the V4-engined cars until 1968.
New for the 1960 model year, the 96 ushered in the wraparound rear window and had more headroom plus a larger boot.
It also sealed the Saab’s reputation as a rally winner, thanks to Erik Carlsson’s multiple RAC and Monte-Carlo victories, and sales boomed worldwide.
The ‘bullnose’ front end disappeared in 1965 as the Trollhättan factory geared up to produce the 96 with Ford V4 power and a front-mounted radiator.
It’s amazing to think that this basic shape, which had its origins in the two-cylinder 92 of 1950-’56, stayed in production until 1980.
Those early two-stroke cars had transversely mounted 25bhp engines, but the Saab 93 of 1956 brought in the longitudinally mounted three-cylinder variant, first with 841cc and 38bhp and of very similar one-coil-per-cylinder design to the DKW/Auto Union, and much-improved coil-sprung rear suspension.
Like Auto Union, the Swedes were attracted to the simplicity, smoothness and high power-to-weight ratio of the loop-charged two-stroke in these slippery-looking cars, which were always two-door and front-wheel drive.
The Appia was Lancia’s last sliding-pillar car, retaining the mode of front suspension the firm had pioneered on the Lambda.
A surprising 98,000 Appia saloons were built between 1953 and ’63 (not counting the various coachbuilt Zagato and Pininfarina two-door versions), and it would be fair to say that this replacement for the Ardea – and companion model to the new V6 Aurelia – kept the company slightly less insolvent than it might have been in the 1950s and early ’60s, tempting buyers out of their Fiat 1100s with its promise of prestige and engineering excellence in a small-car package.
Maintaining the tradition of a narrow-angle V4 engine and pillarless construction, the Appia was developed through three series and rose in power from 38bhp to 48bhp on just 1090cc.
From 1956 the Series 2 had a new three-box body – by then with left-hand drive as standard – 14in wheels and a more robust engine.
The 1959-on Series 3, such as the one pictured here, had the same body outline but a new Flaminia-style rectangular grille that gave this baby Lancia family kinship with the bigger car.
S3 sales had topped 55,000 cars by the time production ended in 1963, making the third-gen Appia by far the most popular of the saloons – and the most technically advanced, with dual-circuit brakes and 48bhp.
The styling of our two Italian protagonists is almost interchangeable to the untrained eye.
The Appia and Millecento are generically cute saloons from an advertising director’s fantasy idea of what 1950s Rome should look like; equally, the bulbous and rounded Auto Union is as German as a frothy stein at Oktoberfest.
Only the Saab seems to transcend its period of design because it is so evidently a functional, aerodynamic and fashion-shunning object with little in the way of extraneous detail.
The first observation on entering these cars is that they all use a column gearchange, probably to maintain the pretence of three-abreast seating possibilities or simply because it was still a fashionable arrangement.
The Saab bucks a trend in having circular instrumentation and hanging rather than floor-hinged pedals. Its big, white steering wheel is offset to the left.
The Appia, rather austere internally, is the only car with a true bench front seat.
It also has the most rear legroom, whereas the wider but less well-packaged Auto Union – with its thermometer speedo, fake wood, fat seats and that cream, egg-shaped steering wheel – is quite intimate in the rear.
It looks as if you might really crack your kneecap on the dogleg of its wraparound ’screen if you’re not careful, too.
The Fiat has the best column change, closely followed by the Lancia.
Neither requires any particular thought or effort as you whip the lever around the gate with total precision.
Not so the Auto Union, which, even after you have worked out that the gear positions are reversed (first below second, fourth above third), requires practice.
Like the Saab, it redeems itself to a certain extent in that, with its freewheel engaged, clutchless downchanges are possible, although you do lose engine braking.
Viewed from the outside (usually through a thin haze of oil smoke), the 96 doesn’t appear to be hustling down the road all that fast, even if it is emitting a shriek that could summon the ghost of Carlsson.
The ‘ring-a-ding-ding’ engine sounds of the two-strokes have a unique appeal, and it cannot be denied that they smooth out beautifully as the revs build, with the full benefit of those inherent six-pot firing impulses.
They are noisier and more hesitant at lower revs, where torque is lacking so you need to make free use of the gears – which in the Swedish car is less of a chore – to get them up to speed.
On the flat, both Saab and the Auto Union will cruise at 70mph-plus without strain, but not very economically: 25mpg from less than 1000cc doesn’t really compute in 2022, but excessive thirst was a perennial two-stroke issue – along with the nuisance of having to add oil to the fuel.
The Lancia, which is able to top 80mph and cruise at 75, should return at least 30mpg – maybe even 40, if driven gently.
Its engine, a neat square ‘box’ of a V4 with a single, common head for both banks of cylinders, has instant throttle response and no flat-spots.
There is every encouragement to drive it hard because it sounds so lusty and unburstable, but there is also ample torque available for when you are feeling lazy.
The Fiat’s three-bearing, in-line pushrod ‘four’, of pre-war origin, is not quite as refined as the Appia’s but equally as game, with really good pull from low revs in its relatively high top gear.
The Lancia’s intermediate ratios are closely bunched in true Alpine fashion, and the lack of slop in the mechanism, plus the neutrality of the handling, make it the most fun to drive.
There is modest body roll and ample grip combined with a ride that smooths out bumps quietly with no rattles from the beautifully contrived doors.
On a greasy roundabout you can tweak its tail at will, whereas the Fiat builds up quite strong understeer with steering that is vague compared with the other cars here.
The 1100’s live axle doesn’t need much provocation to start winding up and its brakes are not as authoritative as the Appia’s big drums, although they do improve upon the dead feel of the Auto Union’s set-up.
The Saab is a nifty, flat-cornering car that feels more naturally agile than the 1000S, which has rather heavy steering and a poor lock.
Both of these front-drivers are essentially stable, with slightly lively ride quality (improved by having passengers aboard) and useful ground clearance.
At 20-plus seconds from 0-60mph, none of these baby Euro saloons will attract speeding tickets, but that’s not the point.
In each case they offer a strength of personality that transcends ideas of performance.
These are cars with strong national characteristics, vehicles you could attribute to a country of origin on sight – perhaps even by sound or smell – in a way that would be impossible with their 21st-century equivalents.
You soon come to like the Fiat for its cheerful, undemanding character: it’s a car designed first and foremost to be easy to drive, for the broadest possible appeal.
The Saab, in contrast, tries to do everything differently – even its door-glasses drop at a weird angle – but for those who take the time to know it well, the 96 will be rewarding.
The Auto Union really wants to be a baby Mercedes. It is a well-built car in that typically German way a Beetle owner would recognise, but is less successful than the Saab in hiding the shortcomings of two-stroke power and was very much yesterday’s car even in 1960.
There is something engagingly cheeky about the way the little Lancia looks and drives that stays in your head long after the pleasantries of the Fiat – and novelty of the two-strokes – has faded.
It has a solid quality that is way beyond the needs of this class of car, a reminder of Lancia’s penchant for doing things the hard way wherever possible.
Like the others, the Appia is a product of a carefree age of small-car design when, with no particular pollution or crash-safety laws to worry about, the designers of these cars had a free hand to pursue the ideals and technologies that were intrinsic to their marque identities.
Nobody cared about ensuring pedestrians got a soft landing on a bonnet or pretended to have much interest in cleaning up smelly exhausts.
All the engineers of the ’50s had to do was concentrate on making cars that were adapted to the typography and taxation of local markets.
The result was a buffet of engineering novelty in the quest for small family saloon utopia.
Images: Max Edleston
Factfiles
Necktar Europa (Fiat 1100D)
- Sold/no built 1962-’66/408,997
- Construction steel unitary
- Engine iron-block, alloy-head, ohv 1089cc ‘four’, single Weber carburettor
- Max power 48bhp @ 4800rpm
- Max torque 58Ib ft @ 3000rpm
- Transmission four-speed manual, RWD
- Suspension at front wishbones, coils rear live axle, leaf springs; telescopic dampers f/r
- Steering worm and roller
- Brakes drums
- Length 12ft 10in (3912mm)
- Width 4ft 9in (1448mm)
- Height 4ft 11in (1498mm)
- Wheelbase 7ft 8in (2340mm)
- Weight 2060Ib (934kg)
- Mpg 29
- 0-60mph 21 secs
- Top speed 80mph
- Price new £800
- Price now £5000*
Lancia Appia Series 3
- Sold/no built 1953-’63/98,027 (all)
- Construction steel unitary
- Engine iron-block, alloy crankcase and head, ohv 1090cc V4, single Weber carburettor
- Max power 48bhp @ 5000rpm
- Max torque 63Ib ft @ 3000rpm
- Transmission four-speed manual, RWD
- Suspension at front sliding pillars, coils rear live axle, leaf springs; telescopic dampers f/r
- Steering worm and sector
- Brakes drums
- Length 13ft 2¼in (4020mm)
- Width 4ft 10in (1473mm)
- Height 4ft 9in (1448mm)
- Wheelbase 8ft 2¾in (2508mm)
- Weight 2028lb (920kg)
- Mpg 36
- 0-60mph 23.7 secs
- Top speed 82
- Price new £1587
- Price now £5-12,000*
Auto Union 1000S
- Sold/no built 1958-’63/171,008
- Construction steel chassis and body
- Engine iron-block, alloy-head, two-stroke 980cc triple, single carburettor
- Max power 50bhp @ 4000rpm
- Max torque 61Ib ft @ 2250rpm
- Transmission four-speed manual with freewheel, FWD
- Suspension transverse leaf springs, telescopic dampers f/r
- Steering rack and pinion
- Brakes drums
- Length 13ft 10in (4216mm)
- Width 5ft 6¾in (1694mm)
- Height 4ft 9¾in (1465mm)
- Wheelbase 7ft 8½in (2350mm)
- Weight 1974Ib (895kg)
- Mpg 28
- 0-60mph 23 secs
- Top speed 80mph
- Price new £1240
- Price now £5-12,000*
Saab 96
- Sold/no built 1960-’67/547,221 (all 96s)
- Construction steel unitary
- Engine iron-block, alloy-head, two-stroke 841cc triple, three carburettors
- Max power 55bhp @ 5000rpm
- Max torque 60Ib ft @ 3000rpm
- Transmission four-speed manual with freewheel, FWD
- Suspension at front wishbones rear beam axle, trailing arms; coil springs, telescopics f/r
- Steering rack and pinion
- Brakes discs front, drums rear
- Length 13ft 8¼in (4172mm)
- Width 5ft 2¼in (1580mm)
- Height 4ft 9¼in (1454mm)
- Wheelbase 8ft 2¼in (2495mm)
- Weight 1800Ib (816kg)
- Mpg 27
- 0-60mph 19 secs
- Top speed 90mph
- Price new £1058
- Price now £5-12,000*
*Prices correct at date of original publication
Keyword: Compact quality: Neckar Europa vs Lancia Appia vs Auto Union 1000S vs Saab 96