Ugly and unloved - the Austin Maxi

It was the first major new model to emerge from the newly created British Leyland group and, as with so many BL cars, it was supposed to signal the start of a brave new world.

Although the Maxi emerged under BL’s stewardship it was really the last car created under the previous management – the British Motor Corporation. It was also the final model penned by Sir Alec Issigonis, who was better known as the father of the Mini.

At one point the Maxi was to have worn a Morris badge as well but Leyland management scrapped that idea, preferring to add a saloon (the Marina) to the range for drivers who couldn’t stomach the idea of driving anything quite so vulgar as a hatchback.

BL boss Lord Donald Stokes did have one good idea, though. He christened the new family car ‘Maxi’ in homage to the Mini which had preceded it by a decade but was still selling well (if not profitably).

The Maxi borrowed from other cars in the BL empire, most notably the doors which came from the larger 1800 and dictated a long wheelbase – giving the Maxi terrific interior space but making it significantly longer than the Ford Cortina it was supposed to pinch sales from.

Unfortunately, BMC didn’t have an engine bigger than 1.3-litres and even that (the ‘uprated’ A-Series) was considered a poor choice for a Cortina killer.

So management gave the go-ahead for a new engine, and a new factory to build it, to be developed alongside the Maxi.

Issigonis was suitably ambitious. The new engines (christened the E-Series) would use an overhead cam design, a modular design that allowed BMC to add a couple of extra cylinders for top-of-the-range models, and a very compact block (so it could be squeezed into the greatest number of engine bays in models throughout the BMC line-up). This was achieved by ditching the water jackets between the cylinders.

As the design progressed, BMC’s confidence in its Cortina challenger seemed to wane. First, there was a crisis over the awkward looks, the consequence of using borrowed doors. As the clock ticked down, management brought in ex-Ford man Roy Axe to give the Maxi a visual lift. Axe did his best but the timeframe was so tight (the body presses were already under construction) that all he could do was give the shape a light makeover.

Perhaps this is why management made the bold decision to take the Maxi upmarket by making it something of a high-technology test bed. The gearbox gained a fifth speed, for quieter cruising and improved fuel consumption, and the boot was dumped in favour of a hatchback. At least this way the Maxi didn’t have to go toe-to-toe with the Cortina.

But when Lord Stokes ran the rule over BL’s new model he was horrified. A second restyle was ordered but this extended to little more than a few improvements to the interior trim.

Most cars wait five or six years before they go under the knife for a mid-life facelift. The Maxi had two before it even went on sale.

Worse still, the five-speed gearbox didn’t work. A crash team of experts shipped over from Triumph identified the culprit as the insanely long cable system used to change gears. The linkages had to be overhauled – a major undertaking that would take time and money.

At one point Stokes things were so bad Stokes considered pulling the plug altogether but, in the end, too much money had been wasted not to launch the Maxi.

At launch, journalists slated the Maxi for the appalling quality of its gear change, road noise and its poor performance. They praised the commodious interior and the comfortable ride, but most testers agreed the Maxi wasn’t ready. Far from being a technology showcase, the Maxi wasn’t even finished.

The British public agreed and the Maxi failed to meet even the most modest of sales targets. BL spent big money on a series of improvements and when the 1700 arrived it finally had a decent rod-operated gearchange, but the damage had already been done.

Incredibly, BL left the Maxi largely untouched for more than a decade before its third – and final – facelift in 1980.