Book review — The Cyclecar: Volume One, 1912-1913

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Given the opportunity, we would all own bound runs of The Autocar, The Motor, The Cyclecar and so on and so forth, but original editions are now so rare, fragile, expensive and of such impractical dimensions that to collect everything will have to remain the stuff of sweet dreams. We may, however, be content with facsimiles, if we can find them. Now, where The Cyclecar is concerned, we can. Noted exponent of the "new motoring" Cally Callomon has taken the trouble to scan and reprint every page of the first volume, which encompasses 10 issues originally published during 1912 and 1913.

One of the great tragedies of modern publishing is the pre-eminent rôle played by the camera. For historical documentary purposes, the camera is a wonder of modern science, but on an æsthetic level, the quality of its output is at best inconsistent, and how are we ever to forgive its part in displacing the artist from the throne he occupied for centuries? We turn to issue one, page one: a sturdy blacksmith raises his eyes devotedly heavenward, his gaze directed by a classical goddess in robes of billowing white towards an ethereal blaze of light, out of which bursts forth a GN—oh, majestic chariot, sent to initiate a new age of progress and enlightenment for all mankind! How venerable that noble Wayland, whose responsibility it hence shall be to fashion steel and aluminium until cyclecars have conquered the earth; how sweet the generosity of that celestial queen who has bestowed the gift of simple and affordable motoring! Prometheus, Prometheus himself, did not so much for the advancement of man when he imparted his little spark. Here is a spark and petrol, encased in a cylinder and driving chains, or belts, or friction discs! Blessed life! Sacred spirit! The middle-class shall motor!

No, the camera was never so eloquent as the artist's pen, whose sense of joy and optimism at the arrival of the age of the cyclecar I have felt constrained to put into words. Isn't this just how Keats felt On First Looking into Chapman's Homer? So, with relish, we turn the page and discover that "Mr. Harry Martin intends to attempt the speed of 100 miles per hour at Brooklands track [in] a light monocar fitted with a 16-20 h.p. aeroplane four-cylinder J.A.P. engine." And so it goes on—page after page of the most delightful trivia, and photographs and descriptions of the great machines of the day and the many might-have-beens.

Adventure and imagination

In Germany, Herr Harhorn designed a pair of electric three-wheelers; resembling a sort of invalid carriage, the BEF used an electric motor over the front wheel to drive the hub viâ a vertical cardan shaft, and that evolved into the marginally more car-like Geha. In Britain, the Wall was little more than a sidecar mounted on a tricycle frame, and so was the asymmetrical Condor, with its driven wheel mounted midway along on the left side, and the two steering wheels fore and aft on the right, the merits of which arrangement are not explained. Meanwhile, Master Henry R. S. Birkin—yes, the very same—constructed his own motorised soapbox when he was just 16; a more accomplished-looking effort was made by R. Tyjack, also 16, but his name would not resurface so frequently in later years. In France, the La Fleche was a machine of the most abominable proportions...

Of course, there is more. Cyclecarring is both a science and a culture, and The Cyclecar avails us of both. For the technically-minded and matter-of-fact, we may study explanations of the methods of transmission, or discover the merits of different tyres. Simpler procedures are described so that beginner motorists are not neglected, and the minutiæ of the law are explained. On the cultural front, an article entitled "The Cyclecar and Other Pastimes" explains: "The cyclecar is of great utility to golfers... To anglers [it] should appeal strongly..." and there are multiple treatises on how garages ought to be constructed.

The magazine is copiously illustrated with photographs where appropriate, for accurately documenting the cars and their activities, and drawings where beneficial. While The Autocar employed F. Gordon Crosby to animate its prose, The Cyclecar had Basil Head and John Bryan to render its machinery in all manner of fantastical and whimsical situations, and no shortage of cartoons to show the funny side of it all. There is not an item in the magazine which fails to deliver us from this age when the motor car is taken for granted and return us to a time when the industry was fervent with imagination and experiment and motoring itself was a sport, a romance, an adventure.

I could proceed to make an explicit recommendation, but I needn't bother, because if the opportunity to enter a world curiouser than Alice's rabbit hole does not induce a tremor in your heart and a mania that compels you to dive in head-first, then I am afraid yours is a case for the priest. Need I say more? At £35 the book is by no means expensive and the initial print run is limited to just 450 copies. If enough of them sell, Mr. Callomon will do what we are all dearly hoping for and put Volume Two into print. Well, what are you waiting for?

Words: Zack Stiling

The Cyclecar: Volume One, Issues one to ten, 1912-1913
Publisher: The Antar Press. See www.alimentation.cc
Price: £35.00
Format: 300 pages, A4, hundreds of black-and-white illustrations

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