From the Rolls-Royce experimental archive: a quarter of a million communications from Rolls-Royce, 1906 to 1960's. Documents from the Sir Henry Royce Memorial Foundation (SHRMF).
Article from 'The Autocar' magazine describing a road trip over the High Alps to the Riviera in a 12-cylinder Lagonda.
| Identifier | ExFiles\Box 128\3\ scan0007 | |
| Date | 16th December 1938 | |
| 1134 The Autocar, December 16th, 1938 Busman's Holiday Over the High Alps to the Riviera in a 12-cylinder Lagonda by G.{Mr Griffiths - Chief Accountant / Mr Gnapp} GEOFFREY SMITH FEW experiences in life taste as good the second time—but if ever there was an exception to this rule, it could be made in the case of motor mountaineering in the High Alps in a fine car. So at least it seemed to three of us when we found ourselves last August almost covering our wheelmarks of twelve months before. It was to be a busman's holiday, and we had deliberately planned to repeat the schedule covered in a Lagonda 6-cylinder tourer in 1937, but this time we had the latest 1939 12-cylinder model. We set out in two cars; Richard Watney, managing director of Lagondas, on one, a 12-cylinder factory-built D.H. coupé, and Alan Bicknell and myself on the other—a three-seater James Young coupé, prototype of the new Rapide coupé standardised for 1939. Lagonda directors accompanied us in their desire to see at first hand the performance of the latest car under the most gruelling conditions. The early morning sun soon dispelled the lassitude common to all mankind when waked unwillingly from slumber, and all was well with the world as we sped down the Maidstone road at 80 m.p.h.—the cruising speed, as it turned out, of this extraordinary vehicle. After the usual jettisoning of petrol—possibly the most irritating experience on a Continental trip—we were soon on board. At Calais, we thought ourselves well away when Dick Watney, with the sensitivity of the engineer, thought his ear had detected a tinkle somewhere in the front brake drum—which interesting defect he proceeded to investigate upon his back, dressed, as he was, in a new light grey flannel suit. An hour later, our protests being in vain, we just left our colleague, and preceded him in search of dinner to Beauvais. Although it is some months since we tasted that sole bonne femme (or "soul of a good woman," as B. would have it), one is grateful to this day for all that it meant to us at that hour. Our brake-testing friend joined us as we were paying the bill; his appetite was alarming. It was dark when our two cars set out for Paris, all three of us feeling a glow of inward repletion. As usual on entering the banlieux we went round in circles to the astonishment of two gendarmes, W. shouting his instructions from one car, myself from the other, but Fate was kind and we did, finally, arrive at our hotel. We left one car in Paris for the other two of the party to pick up next day and join us at the Lautarets. With our own car carefully washed and brushed up, the three of us set out for the Porte d'Italie, directed to the gates once again by Jean Plisson who, in his business moments, looks after A fine panorama from the Col de Vars (6,960 ft.). The village of Guillestre is seen in the centre, the Dauphiny Alps to the left. A 22 | ||