WHO NEEDS ERGONOMICS – THE JOYS OF MOTORING PAST

During the 1970s, one of my chief fascinations with the parental 1969 MGB Roadster was its dashboard. The passenger’s map reading lamp resembled a number plate light, various mysterious-looking switches studded the fascia, and the ventilation system was especially off-beat. From memory, pulling a lever caused footwell inlets to admit only a trickle of air, even when travelling at 70 mph.

The MG, of course, hailed from an era in which ergonomics seemed of little concern to many designers. Even in the late 1960s, some model’s dashboard layouts apparently resulted from blindfolded factory workers randomly hurling switchgear at the fascia. Readers who are BMC enthusiasts will almost certainly recall the ‘fug stirrer’ heater of the Morris Minor, with a stop-cock by the radiator if you wanted cool air. Another memory is of Vauxhall’s shape-coded switches so that you could find a Viva’s wipers after dark.

At that time, sitting behind the wheel of a new car could truly be a voyage of discovery. Of course, Jaguar would helpfully label their switches, but the floor-mounted starter button might cofound anyone unfamiliar with a Morris Mini Minor. The Fiat 500 similarly featured levers between the front seats for the choke and starter, while many Italian cars retained a hand throttle into the 1970s. Upmarket rear-engine NSUs even boasted a form of anti-smoking device; a cigarette lighter that became hot to hold.

And these are but a few examples. For many years Volkswagen Beetles had a dipstick to measure petrol levels rather than a fuel gauge, while ‘heaters’ for several cheaper cars meant hot air piped from the engine. If you were lucky enough to own a vehicle fitted with a radio, it was often mounted to be inaccessible; the Morris Marina famously angled their sound system away from the driver. Unmarked warning lamps were another source of fun, with frantic consultations of the handbook to learn the meaning of that ominous yellow glow.

While it is amusing (for me, at any rate) to reflect on the joys of operating various Bakelite switches, modern vehicles seem to be a good deal more efficient. One exception is the floor-mounted dipswitch, as featured on my 1960 Wolseley and many cars of that era. My 33-year-old stepdaughter was especially fascinated as she had never seen such a device before. Sometimes this writer does feel very old…