1965 Austin Gipsy

In 1997 at a BCA car auction in Measham, the Home Office sold off 97 of the Austin Gipsys they’d bought in the 1960s as part of their clandestine preparations for keeping the county going in the event of a thermonuclear attack. These vehicles had been bought new, kept in blast proof bunkers and regularly serviced.

This particular Austin Gipsy was sold as Lot 98. It had had been designated for use as an AFS (Auxiliary Fire Service) vehicle when purchased new in 1965.

When the AFS was disbanded in 1968 its Austin Gipsys were mothballed as part of Civil Defence preparations for any future unpleasantness brought to our shores courtesy of Soviet intercontinental ballistic nuclear missiles.

The Austin Gipsy’s mission was to spring into action from its underground bunker, like something out of Thunderbirds, and come to the rescue of whoever was still wandering about in the smouldering ruins of post-apocalyptic Dundee, Doncaster or Dartmouth.

You won’t be surprised to learn that it was never used in this capacity and that, consequently, it spent most of its 32 years safeguarding the realm by not doing very much at at all.

It’s been looked after by the Home Office from 1965 until 1997 and, after that, it’s been in the care of a Derbyshire farmer until 2000. Since then, it’s been with the vendor, who has a fine collection of garaged and well-maintained classic vehicles.

When it was sold by the government in 1997 it had covered 10,312 miles.

Presumably most of those were incurred just nipping in and out of its bunker for a spot of fresh air, patrolling the perimeter fence on the look-out for invading Cossacks, or popping down to the Home Office garage for a quick service and an MoT certificate.

Today, 24 years later, it has just 11,912 miles on the clock.

So, the example we have here is as near as you can get to a brand new 1965 Austin Gipsy without mastering time travel.

Although we haven’t tried to drive it up Ben Nevis in the dark or ford any mountain streams in full spate, we can report that it goes, stops and handles every bit as well as you’d like it to and that the engine runs as sweetly and smoothly as a sewing machine.

This vehicle is a splendid thing, in great condition, and it’s a charming, tough, useable and fabulously original piece of British Cold War history.

We like it.

The British Standard 381C colour is the Deep Bronze Green beloved by British military units everywhere.

Overall, the vehicle presents very well indeed and is in seriously impressive nick for its age.

The original paintwork and finish are in really very decent condition.

The panels are largely free of any dinks, dents, creases, folds or knocks. The shut lines and door gaps are as tight and consistent as you could hope for.

The alloy handles, hinges, trim and bumpers are untroubled by corrosion and although there are a couple of small dinks to the bumpers, they’re really pretty insignificant. The chrome work around the lights is bright and shiny.

The badging and grilles look fine and the vehicle is still proudly displaying its AFS decals. The original wheels are all good and the chunky Avon tyres have plenty of tread left in them (we’re not entirely sure how you could wear these out even if you wanted to).

Where there is any rust visible it appears to be largely superficial and only in places where a chip in the paint has let it have a sniff of the metal. We couldn’t see any bubbling anywhere.

No, it’s not pristine, the paint on the bonnet panel has discoloured slightly and there’s the odd scuff and paint chip here and there.

But it has spent years fighting the threat of Soviet aggression (albeit in a pretty sedentary way) and if that’s left it with the odd bruise – well, think of it as a badge of honour.

Functional is certainly the word here. Don’t look for cup holders, heated seats or vanity mirrors. This is a tough, stark, no-nonsense interior. Unless you are seriously brutal and/or cack-handed, you’ll find it very hard to break anything in here.

Again, the paintwork is pretty good and there’s no more than the odd dusting of superficial rust dust where the paint has been worn away in places.

The upholstery on all seats is in good condition. Although ‘upholstery’ may be stretching the bounds of credibility a tad. You couldn’t describe the seats as being luxuriously padded, although the driving position is actually surprisingly good.

The front seats are basic but comfortable and supportive, as are the bench seats in the back – although we’d probably turn down any offer of a two-week tour of European mountain passes as back seat passengers.

The vinyl is free of any holes or cuts, save for a small tear on the N/S rear seat cushion, but it might thank you for being shown a chamois and some soapy water.

Aside from the doors, the upper section of the body and the roof are fibreglass and, it follows, free of rust. The fibreglass in neither crazed not cracked, although there is evidence to suggest that at some point during its 56 years of life the roof has undergone some repairs.

The dashboard looks fine and, the vendor assures us, all dials, instruments, knobs, switches, toggles and levers do what they’re meant to do.

The door cards are good as are the (new-looking) red mats. Any rust visible on the floor panels is of the superficial variety. Some of the rubber trim around the windows has seen better days.

All in all, the interior is as impressively original and well-preserved as the exterior and it’s a fascinating place to spend some time and admire the unrefined, tough-as-old-boots functionality of the thing.

Everything on the underside looks industrial and strong. There are no obvious leaks and the only sign of rust is the superficial bloom you’d normally find underneath pretty much any vehicle with a few years under its belt.

The engine bay looks an authentically old-fashioned and easy-to-understand place. Everything appears to be in order and in its right and proper place. It’s hard to believe you’re looking at an engine bay that’s more than half a century old.

This vehicle doesn’t come with an itemized list of restoration work undertaken, because it hasn’t had any restoration work done. It is a straightforward, original, uncomplicated, basic, authentic honest thing.

There’s nowhere to hide anything suspicious on a car so simple you could take it apart with a screwdriver and that thing on a Swiss Army knife that’s for taking stones out of horses’ hooves.

We think that it is exactly what it appears to be – a vehicle with a great deal of mechanical and aesthetic integrity that must now be one of the very best preserved examples you could hope to find.

The vendor tells us that it’s been kept garaged, been regularly serviced, been taken out for a yearly spin or two, and had whatever needed doing done at the right time.

He described it as being “a piece of cake to start and drive”, and added that, “It’s really never asked for much”.

There’s all manner of invoices, bills and old MoT certificates to support these claims although we should add that most of the documents that are physically with us are copies of originals – the seller will provide the originals, to the winning bidder. 

The Gipsy doesn’t have a current MoT certificate, and while it is exempt by virtue of its age, we would strongly encourage the new owner to have the car re-MOT’d at the earliest. The cost of an MoT is a small investment when offset against the purchase and upkeep of any classic car, and it gives an independent, third-party assessment of the car’s condition, which not only provides reassurance to the owner (and any subsequent purchasers) but might also be invaluable in the event of a bump when negotiating with the police and any interested insurance companies.

If you’re looking for a benchmark classic Austin Gipsy in wonderful original condition, look no further.

Despite spending most of its life on a mission to save post-apocalyptic Britain from descending into chaos and anarchy, it’s somehow managed to keep itself out of harm’s way for 56 years.

We’d be genuinely surprised to see a much better example and as a result we estimate it to fetch somewhere between £8,000 - £12,000 in auction.

And you’ll be waiting a very long time before you’re parked next to another one outside Waitrose.

What’s not to like?

Viewing is always encouraged (within Govt. guidelines of course), and this particular car is located with us at The Market HQ near Abingdon in Oxfordshire; to arrange an appointment please use the Contact Seller button at the top of the listing. Feel free to ask any questions or make observations in the comments section below, or try our ‘Frequently Asked Questions’.