Coffee and Chrome at Prescott Hill

There are worse ways to spend a hot and humid June day than talking to strangers about cars at Prescott Hill in the lovely Cotswolds. In fact, I’d struggle to think of many better ones.

Coffee and Chrome works because it understands something important about the classic car world. The cars matter – that is why we turn up, peer under bonnets and pretend we are not mentally browsing the classifieds before we have even got home.

The real joy, though, is the people. Every car has a story, and every owner has a reason for caring. Sometimes it is nostalgia, sometimes unfinished business, and sometimes a car simply lodged itself in someone’s imagination years ago and refused to leave.

Prescott is a lovely backdrop. There was no hillclimb action, but the fields at the bottom were bustling, the cafe was busy, and people drifted between cars in the sunshine.

The mix was wonderfully eclectic – supercars rubbed shoulders with modern classics, prized examples of humdrum family cars, and even the odd homologation special. A lineup that includes an Austin Allegro and Porsche 911 GT3, giving them equal billing, is an event that works for me.

Former colleague Harry Metcalfe was there with his Ferrari Testarossa, chatting to visitors and adding a welcome touch of supercar theatre, while the Tyre Kickers podcast team mingled among the cars and owners.

That beige Allegro Series 3 deserves a mention, too – its owner told me it was his daily driver and had replaced a Ford Fiesta ST. ‘Wet belts,’ he said. I nodded with respect. Choosing to face modern traffic in an Allegro takes commitment.

Here are six stories from Prescott, each one a reminder that classics are about people as much as metal.

My car of the meet was Harvey Roughton’s BMW 325i Sport. Not because an E30 needs much help winning friends, but because of the story behind it. Harvey had only owned the car since October, and when this example appeared for sale on the Isle of Lewis, he rang a mate, packed some tools and turned the collection into an 800-mile adventure.

‘A chap had owned it for 15 years and had only done about 2000 miles in it,’ said Harvey. ‘I spoke to my mate and said, “I’ve found the car I was after.” He’s got an XR4, so we chucked a load of tools in and went up there. We did a proper road trip back through the islands and made four days of it.’

There was, Harvey admits, a more sensible option. ‘We were on the fence about whether to trailer it back,’ he said. ‘That would probably have been the sensible thing.’ Probably, but where’s the story in that?

Harvey’s father had classic BMWs when he was growing up, so the E30 carries family history as well as driver appeal. ‘I love it,’ he said. ‘Every time you get in, it puts a smile on my face. I’ve gone from an Audi S5, a modern fast car with 450hp, but nothing compares to just getting in this and going for a drive.’ That is the E30 magic.

It takes a certain sort of person to walk past polished sports cars and bellowing exotica, then stop dead in front of a Rover 420 GSi Tourer. Guilty as charged.

Richard had driven up from Weston-super-Mare, and he knows why the car attracts attention from the right sort of enthusiast. Once common, the 400 Tourer has now become properly scarce. ‘I think there were about nine left when I last looked,’ he said.

This one has been with him for around 14 years, although it is not his first 420 Tourer. It is his third. ‘I sold one and regretted it,’ he explained. ‘Then I bought another one, and a bus drove into it. This is the third one.’

Richard owns 20 cars, from a Mini to a Jaguar XJ8, but the Rover fits his approach perfectly. ‘They’re something you can use,’ he said. ‘If I had some beautiful glamorous car in a garage, I know what would happen. I’d leave it in there, too afraid to take it out.’

A full respray two years ago began as a plan to paint only the roof and bonnet, until the old paint started coming away. The bodyshop did the whole car and charged only for the original work. Richard has taken it to the continent several times, including a tour of Italy, where it averaged 33mpg.

There are small cars, and then there is the BMW Isetta, which makes a classic Mini look like a long-wheelbase executive saloon. Jack and Ian Davis arrived at Prescott in the kind of car that does not merely attract attention – people point, children wave and cameras appear.

The family had arrived with both the Isetta and a Wolseley Hornet, although the bubble car inevitably drew the crowd. ‘I bought it in the first Covid lockdown,’ said Jack. ‘It was something to do while I was off work.’

The Isetta was, in his words, ‘a wreck’ when he bought it, and he restored it himself. In an age when many valuable classics are shipped off to specialists, there is something deeply satisfying about a home-restored car. Jack admits it was not always easy. ‘Sometimes I wished I had sent it away,’ he said. ‘They try you sometimes.’

Yet here it was, finished, loved and being used. On the way to Prescott, the little BMW was already doing what Isettas do best. ‘We had some kids dancing on the way here,’ said Jack. ‘They were waving their arms about.’

Some people own a classic, others have clearly built a life around them. Mike Hazlewood falls into the second camp. His Triumph TR4A looked perfectly at home at Prescott. A proper TR always does. Long bonnet, short tail, purposeful stance and just enough civility to make distance work feel like pleasure rather than punishment.

‘TRs have been a passion of mine all my life,’ he said. ‘I’ve had them since I was about 19. They’ve always been my favourites.’ This particular TR4A came into his life in a roundabout way. Mike was at a car show when another enthusiast asked whether he knew much about them. As it happened, he did.

The owner then asked who did Mike’s work. ‘I said I do most of it myself,’ said Mike. ‘He asked if I restored cars, and I said only as a hobby.’ That led to the familiar line: ‘I’ve got one of those at home.’

‘Long story short, it only needed recommissioning,’ said Mike. ‘Three years later, after a full rebuild, I got it on the road.’ Having had the work done, the owner decided to sell it. Mike knew the car, knew the quality of what had gone into it and knew the money spent, so he bought it himself.

Mike’s other TRs have been much farther afield. Switzerland, Italy, Belgium and Ireland have all featured in recent years. ‘That’s what they’re designed for,’ he said. ‘They’ve got to be used. Collectively, I probably do eight to 10,000 miles a year in the classics.’

Lee Cornell’s Chimaera is regularly used rather than a garage queen, which is how these cars work best. TVRs were never meant to sit silently under dust sheets. They need to be used, warmed through and allowed to make that glorious, slightly antisocial noise.

Lee has owned the car for three years, having previously had a Lotus. ‘I like plastic cars,’ he said, which is as neat a summary of British sports car enthusiasm as you could wish for.

The Chimaera came via a heart surgeon who had lived in Edinburgh, then moved to Bournemouth before relocating to Dubai. In its earlier life, the TVR had been used as a daily driver in Scotland, which is both magnificent and mildly terrifying if you know anything about TVR chassis corrosion.

‘Because it had been in Scotland, he fitted a whole new chassis to it about 10 years ago,’ said Lee. ‘It had been daily driven, then it went into his garage and he wasn’t using it enough.’

Lee bought the car at auction almost by accident. He placed a bid, went out, and returned to discover that he owned a TVR, as one does. The drive home went well, but it began misfiring badly on the way. ‘I got back to Birmingham on the back of a recovery truck,’ said Lee. ‘Unfortunately, it was living up to the TVR image in that way.’

Since then, the Chimaera has gained new engine management, a replacement camshaft and a remap, giving around an honest 240 to 250hp. In a car weighing roughly a tonne, that is plenty. ‘It’s surprisingly practical,’ said Lee. ‘You can go away, put bags in the boot, and at 70mph on the motorway you don’t get excessive wind.’

Small, light and beautifully proportioned, the 205 GTI is one of the defining hot hatchbacks of the 1980s. It is also one of those cars that makes people of a certain age go misty-eyed, usually before launching into a story that begins, ‘I had one of these…’

Richard and Linda Schimmell’s car had precisely that effect at Prescott. Clean, original and sitting just right, it was not trying too hard. Everything about it is original and perfectly judged. Richard and Linda have owned the car for 13 years, using it mainly for local shows, weekend pottering and the kind of classic-car use that keeps a car alive without turning every journey into an endurance event.

‘This is about as far as we’ll come,’ they said, having travelled from Solihull. There are thoughts of doing Classic Le Mans one day, although for now it is more likely to be found out and about on a weekend. The car is pleasingly standard, with no modifications, modern makeover, just the original character allowed to shine through.

Even the stereo has period charm. ‘I come in listening to the Beach Boys and Level 42,’ said Richard. Richard does much of the work himself – over the winter he replaced the brakes and suspension, while the cylinder head has previously been off and the valves have been done. The bottom end remains original.

‘It’s a bit rattly and noisy,’ he said. That is part of the charm. At Prescott, Richard and Linda’s Peugeot was a reminder that greatness comes in a small French hatchback with red carpets and just enough 1980s magic to make every journey feel like an event.