By their very nature, real sports cars are macho devices. Or were, anyway, in a time before political correctness made testosterone-drenched descriptions of appearance and driving qualities unfashionable. Brawny, beefy sports cars were driven by brawny, beefy men--and a few women of similar physical and mental makeup--and that was all there was to it.
Clark Gable drove a Jaguar; his female co-star in any given movie might drive a Ford Thunderbird. Tom McCahill, best-known advocate in print for sports cars in the 1950s, wrote of Triumphs, MGs and the like in terms unashamedly masculine. In Uncle Tom's world, a Porsche was the perfect choice to carry a Real Man (and his Labrador retriever) to a distant lake where he might indulge in a day's duck hunting, while the Little Woman stayed home and cooked up a thick, juicy steak for his dinner.
In the midst of this rampant and unabashed pandering to the readership of True ("The Man's Magazine"), a sports car appeared that didn't fit established norms. Descriptions of its appearance came from adjectives best suited to babies, kittens and puppies ("...you would like to pat it on the head," said one writer); it was cute, cuddly and presented a smiling face to the world.
So how did this cheeky newcomer fare? It sold as fast as dealers could yank examples off the boats that regularly brought fresh supplies to these shores. Men--even Real Men--bought Austin-Healey Sprites. And so did women. The Sprite was a revolution on four small wheels, one that widened the market for two-seat runabouts and swept away the automotive gender gap long before Gloria Steinem replaced her Playboy Bunny costume with a power suit.
One doubts that Donald Healey, his son Geoffrey and Gerry Coker, their designer, had any thoughts of social change when they first began kicking around the idea of an inexpensive sports car in 1956. The existing Austin-Healey 100-6 was selling well but was, like most of its contemporaries, priced above the means of many potential customers. This trio, acting on the subject of an earlier conversation between the senior Healey and British Motor Corporation head Leonard Lord, were looking for a way to bring sporting pleasure to customers of modest means.
In doing so, they were very aware of the need to make the new car ("...a bug," in Len Lord's words) out of as many existing pieces as possible. BMC's parts bins, holding the elements of various Austin, MG and Morris vehicles, were overflowing with goodies. If the hardware used in the successful Big Healey could be drawn therefrom, certainly there were bits to be found that would do equally well in a smaller car.
Smaller bits, of course. Instead of poaching from the large Austin Westminster sedan--from which the Big Healey's engine came--they looked instead to the wee Austin A35, source of 948cc engine, gearbox and assorted pieces. The Morris Minor was another source, offering up rack-and-pinion steering. Other items came from a variety of BMC cars; even the Big Healey contributed a piece or two, including the seat frames, which were covered in a less-expensive material to keep costs down.
All design and development work was handled by the Healeys (Donald and son Geoff) at their facility in Warwick, far enough away from BMC facilities to keep meddling at a minimum. A steel unit chassis was laid out; it was a simple affair that could be pressed without use of complex dies. Gerry Coker, with the Big Healey already in his design portfolio, translated the Healeys' requirements--originally, they had intended using the same panels at front and rear to cut costs even further, but this idea was quickly rejected as unaesthetic--into a pleasant body shape. The first prototype carried Porsche 928-style pop-up headlamps in recesses in the large hood panel. These were quickly abandoned when the Healeys realized that even with simple manual actuation they placed extra stress on the hood assembly and added unnecessary cost. Subsequent prototypes and all production Mk I Sprites carried fixed lamps set in the same recesses, earning the Sprite its nickname ("Frogeye" in England, "Bugeye" in the States).
As the prototypes racked up the miles, modifications were incorporated. These came from both BMC (Morris Engines raised the A35 engine's output from 34 to 42.5 bhp with selected internal changes and a dual-SU carburetor intake manifold) and Healey (panel thickness was increased in chassis areas showing weakness, and trailing torque arms were added to the rear suspension above and inboard of the quarter-elliptic leaf springs from which the solid rear axle was hung).
A production site was chosen as well: With Austin's own assembly lines unavailable, the decision was made to build Sprites in the MG factory at Abingdon. Before each Sprite came off the line at MG, its components had traveled a fair distance, from Wolverhampton (bare chassis pressing and assembly) to Swindon (addition of exterior panels) to Cowley (paint) to Abingdon, there to meet up with an engine built in Coventry.
On May 20, 1958, just two years after conception, the Austin-Healey Sprite was introduced to the automotive press in Monte Carlo. The English press was, as one might expect, ecstatic, while their American counterparts were rather more restrained. Items that escaped the Brits' notice--or simply weren't considered important--caused concern here. One of the major complaints was the lack of a trunk lid, omitted both for structural integrity and cost reasons. What luggage space there was turned out to be none too generous anyway, and was shared with the spare tire. The latter, by the way, when shoved too quickly into its dark recess, tended to press an odd and unattractive bulge into the rear deck just above the license-plate light.
The lidless stowage space wasn't the sole demerit given the Sprite. Headlight placement and its effect on styling came in for its share of jeers, interior space was judged to be less than adequate, quality control (particularly where concerned with panel fit) did not impress and the rear-hinged front assembly was considered difficult to open, though it certainly gave superb access to the engine.
Despite the long list of complaints--the selfsame "enthusiast's magazine" that reported them seemed more favorably disposed to the monstrous Lincoln Continental convertible (5500 lb and 10 mpg) tested in the same issue--the Sprite did get some positive commentary. Handling and fuel economy were praised, and all reports agreed the new baby Healey had the makings of a fine race car, even with a 0-60-mph time hovering around the 20-second mark and a top speed in the 80 to 85-mph range.
In fairness to the testers who, with hindsight, may not seem to have been able to see the forest for the trees, they were able to pick and choose among an amazing array of sports cars in those days. And if the Sprite's $1,795 price tag and 35-mpg fuel economy didn't exactly resonate with writers--an MGA, for example, was some $700 higher and burned rather more fuel--that may be because then, as now, test cars were free and gasoline was both plentiful and cheap.
Negative comments from the press didn't do much to dampen public enthusiasm for the tiny (1500 lb, 137-in. overall length) Sprite. Some 49,500 were built and sold between mid-1958 and early 1961.Owners found the lack of outright speed didn't mean much in everyday use, and neither did the rather choppy ride (which was, in reality, no worse than that of most other sports cars). What they got was economy of operation, good reliability and lots of that intangible factor known as fun. It was possible to zip in and out of traffic with an ease which drivers of Chevys, Fords and similar behemoths could only envy, or soak up sun and fresh air on short weekend excursions. Add-on luggage racks were readily available, too, and so were aftermarket and factory-issue hardtops.
Best of all, most people found the Sprite irresistibly cute. The frog- (or bug-) eye look was most troubling to those whose comments got into print; ordinary civilians seemed to like the Sprite's looks just fine. It didn't take long for a few entrepreneurs handy with fiberglass mat and resin to come up with replacement hood assemblies that moved the headlamps out to their "proper" location; each of these got favorable mention in magazines, but sales were low. Most Sprites retained their original appearance.And what about the predicted racing successes? Sprites quickly began to monopolize Class H racing in this country. Modifications required reflected the simplicity of amateur racing in those days: A roll bar and lap belts came first, followed by removal of the windshield--a small aeroscreen usually took its place--and replacement of the stock Dunlop tires with more durable rubber. Suspension modes generally consisted of replacing the thin oil in the lever-arm shock absorbers with something thicker (Castrol "R" motor oil was favored by some) and the truly serious competitors would do some basic machine work on the engine and replace the muffler with a straight pipe. Unless someone brought along a Fiat-Abarth, the little Healeys generally had it their own way within their class.
Some racing help was forthcoming from the factory as well. In developing the "Sebring" Sprite, which received a 57-bhp engine, four-wheel disc brakes and wire wheels, BMC and the Healeys came up with a speedier car, one that was very competitive in the four-hour race for small cars that was then run in conjunction with the regular 12-hour event at Sebring. Many of the parts developed for these special Sprites were made available to private owners. Supercharger kits were also offered by a variety of tuners, though these disqualified the car for production-class racing.
Engine swaps were also tried as a way to give the Sprite more muscle. The Healeys installed a Coventry Climax engine in a prototype and liked the results so well they tried without success to get BMC to approve a production run. Others, particularly in California (where else?), went even farther: At least one Sprite got a small-block Chevy V8 levered into its engine bay, while another was given an even larger (and, of course, more powerful) 6.6-liter Buick V8. Both engines were mated with automatic transmissions, in part because the wider powerplants left room for only two pedals in the Sprite's footwell.A slight decline in Sprite sales towards the end of 1960 caused BMC management to decide the Frogeye was wearing out its welcome. Even though this slump proved to be temporary, the decision was made to order up an extensive facelift, which resulted in the fitting of completely new front and rear sheet metal. The result was the Mark II Sprite and badge-engineered MG Midget, a pair of cars that were more expensive, slightly faster thanks to their 46-bhp engines but every bit as much fun behind the wheel. The newcomers had trunk lids as well.
What the Sprite and Midget (quickly known collectively as "Spridgets") didn't have was the perky, distinctive appearance of their predecessor. This didn't hurt sales, which actually improved, especially after wind-up windows replaced the original removable sidescreens and other civilizing touches were added, but did ensure that those original Frogeyes that have survived the ravages of time and the depredations of engine-swappers would become cherished collector's items, and remain so to this day.