Hillman Imp: the rear-engined gamble that took on the Mini (1963–1976)

The Mini gets remembered as a triumph and the Hillman Imp as a failure, which is unfair on the car. The Imp was the Rootes Group’s answer to the Mini: smaller company, bolder engineering, worse luck. It carried its engine in the tail, made that engine from aluminium when rivals used cast iron, and gave its owners an opening rear window and folding rear seat that made it a hatchback in all but name, years early. What it never had was the time and money to be developed properly before launch.

The cleverest small car of 1963

Two young Rootes engineers, Michael Parkes and Tim Fry, designed the Imp around a jewel of an engine: an 875cc all-aluminium overhead-cam four, derived from a Coventry Climax fire-pump unit, canted over in the tail and driving the rear wheels. It revved like nothing else in the class, the gearchange was among the best of the decade, and the rear-engined layout gave flat cornering and quick, light steering. Against the Mini’s front-drive packaging the Imp offered its own kind of cleverness, and on the road it was, and is, the more entertaining car to drive hard.

Linwood and the launch that went wrong

The Imp’s real misfortune was industrial. Rootes needed a new factory, and government regional policy steered it to Linwood in Scotland, far from the group’s Midlands base and suppliers, with a workforce new to carmaking. The car was hurried into production in 1963 with immature details: a pneumatic throttle that baffled owners, early water-pump and head-gasket troubles, and an automatic choke that rarely behaved. The faults were engineered out within a few years, but small-car buyers value trust above all, and the damage to the Imp’s name, and to Rootes’ finances, was never repaired. The episode did as much as anything to hand the company to Chrysler.

Imp, Chamois, Sport and Stiletto

True to Rootes habit, one car wore many suits. Hillman sold the Imp, Super Imp and the sloping-roof Californian coupe; Singer dressed the same car as the plusher Chamois; Sunbeam supplied the performance versions, the twin-carburettor Imp Sport and the four-headlamp fastback Stiletto, the most sought-after of the family today. There was an estate, and Commer took the van. The 51 bhp Sport engine transforms the car and can be fitted to any of them, which many owners have done.

The giant-killer

Light weight, a free-revving engine and fine balance made the Imp a formidable competition car. Rosemary Smith won the Tulip Rally outright in 1965, works and private Imps collected class results through the decade, and Bill McGovern’s Sunbeam-badged car took the British Saloon Car Championship three years running from 1970 to 1972. That giant-killing record keeps Imps busy in historic racing, sprints and hillclimbs across Britain now, and it is a big part of the car’s enthusiast following.

Buying and running an Imp today

Two rules govern Imp ownership. The first is cooling: the aluminium engine tolerates no neglect, so evidence of a properly maintained system, a good radiator and sound head gasket matters more than anything else on the test drive. Ask when the system was last flushed and the head last checked, and walk away from any car that runs hot on the drive, because a cooked head is the classic Imp failure and the repair outweighs the car’s value. The second is the usual one, rust, in the sills, floors and front panel, with the front suspension mounts and the battery tray under the bonnet worth a torch as well. A sorted Imp is a simple, cheap car to keep, parts support through the clubs and specialists is strong, and the engine responds beautifully to sympathetic tuning.

On the road, a healthy Imp is a small delight. The unassisted steering is light and full of feel, the gearchange is famously sweet, and the engine spins eagerly to speeds that would worry an A-series, all of it carried on a chassis that corners flatter than a Mini and rides more gently too. The trade-offs are period ones: modest outright pace in standard tune, a gearing set for town rather than motorway, and a tail-heavy balance that rewards smoothness. Most owners fit the Sport engine or mild upgrades, and the car takes them gracefully.

Prices remain kind. Usable cars start around £3,000, good ones sit £5,000 to £9,000, and Sports and Stilettos carry a deserved premium, the best coupes now comfortably into five figures. For a 1960s classic with real engineering interest, the Imp is still one of the biggest bargains among the cars of the 1960s. Buy a sorted one, join the club run, and enjoy owning the clever car history got wrong.

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