1939 BSA Scout Series 6

What a joyous and friendly-looking machine this is. Pre-war machines are generally brimming with charm, but this BSA, with its huge toothy grille framed by big separate headlamps, packs more personality and charm than most into its compact dimensions. It’s a rare survivor too; with only about 500 Series 6s being constructed at least 80 years ago now, very few now remain.

However, this one has lasted well. Registered in February 1939, it has managed to endure through one world war - not exactly the easiest of times for motor vehicles - and get through the advent of the MOT test in 1960, which culled many pre-war machines. While a lot of the Scout’s early life isn’t known, by the 1990s, it seems to have fallen into the hands of the real BSA enthusiast, judging by the correspondence in the history folder. There is a blurry photograph in the file of a Scout in several large pieces on the back of a trailer; while it’s not clear if this is ‘our’ BSA, it would help explain why, in 2000, it was treated to a complete restoration so good that it was praised in an insurance valuation letter by the BSA Front-Wheel Drive club as ‘concours and likely to be one of the best in the country’. It seems that the odometer was reset at that point.

The current mileage is recorded as 1566 miles (presumably post-restoration), and a browse through the MOT history on the internet backs this up. By March 2006 - when the DVLA’s online records begin - the car was showing 636 miles. Very few miles were covered over the next few years - for example, from 2010 to 2012, less than 100 were notched up. The last MOT expired in July 2019, at 1152 miles. Being a historic vehicle, there’s no need for the BSA to have an MOT and, seeing as it passed that with no advisories and has only done 414 miles since, we can be reasonably confident that it’s all pretty good still.

The current owner believes more work was done around 2017, and describes the Scout as in very good condition. As the car is with us at our Abingdon headquarters, we’ve also checked it out and we’re happy to report that we concur with that view. It also goes very well too. We’d take this over an MG T-type any day.

Green is a shade that always suits this style of pre-war roadster, and this Scout’s uniform sits well on its shape. You can usually get a good impression of the general condition of a car like this by standing back to admire it overall; ill-fitting doors, panels that don’t fit together too well and droopy bits of metal are often a sign of problems with the wood frame underneath. Here, though, there’s nothing like that and just a lot to admire instead. Everything is slotted together just as it should be, and the car looks very straight and honest.

Thanks to its restoration, the BSA’s exterior is in great condition. Over the 1500 miles since it was rebuilt, it’s only picked up a few minor blemishes here and there; signs of use rather than signs of impending trouble. The beading between the bulkhead and the bonnet is somewhat cracked in places, while the centrally-hinged bonnet doors have a few spots of missing paint around their edges. However, the bottom corners are protected by small plastic slot-on covers to help preserve them and stop them scratching other parts of the car. There’s the occasional sliver of paint missing from the extremes of some other panels, but you have to look very hard to find such imperfections. There are no mismatches in paint shades between panels.

There isn’t a lot of brightwork, BSA obviously preferring simplicity over glitz, but what is here is all in excellent order. There’s no corrosion on the grille or narrow kinked bar that passes for a front bumper. One nice period feature is the accessory temperature gauge radiator cap fitted, although we’ll be honest, we haven’t checked its accuracy.

Tyres - including the spare, attached to the rear bodywork - are Avon HM Tourist 4.50 17 crossplies; they’re in good nick with lots of tread left and no cracking to the sidewalls. The Easy-clean wheels are… well, very clean. They’re painted the same hue as the rest of the bodywork; marks are few and far between, and the chrome hubcaps are very shiny and free from any corrosion.

The black canvas hood fits quite tightly; it has a few blemishes on it, mainly where the frame sits underneath, but we reckon that a few hours cleaning and detailing should sort most of them out. And, being such a small car, you won’t have to expend a lot of elbow grease to get the job done. There’s a tonneau cover as well, for when the hood is packed away.

It’s a snug cockpit for any occupants - you’ll have to be friendly with whoever you share a ride with, no social distancing of any sort here. To be fair though, you’ll both be laughing too much to care, such is the sheer entertainment that this car offer anybody who takes it for a spin.

The interior follows usual pre-war two-seater practice; there’s a leather bench seat and a wooden dashboard, decorated with two gauges and a random selection of switches and buttons. The black-on-cream dials look very elegant, although they don’t give you an overdose of information; the 80mph speedometer behind the steering wheel has a (currently non-functional) clock set into it, while its neighbour contains an ammeter and fuel gauge, and warning lights for the ignition and oil pressure. One departure from vintage norm is the gearlever; rather than being floor or column-mounted, it sprouts from directly under the dash like a post-war Renault 4. Fortunately, a chrome plate above it tells you the three-speed gate pattern.

There’s little to find fault with inside, especially given the age of the car. The wood is well-preserved, with no cracking, chipping or water damage to the varnish. The leather seat is firm and, while it has some light patina, it’s nothing to remotely offend. There are a few pale marks on the upright of the driver’s seat that would probably respond well to recolouring. The fitted carpets look practically like new. The door cards are in good nick, as are the cord-pulls that open the doors.

The glovebox is trimmed with green baize, the same shade as the car’s exterior paint. It doesn’t look like it’s seen even gloves inside it, let alone anything more substantial or solid. The steering wheel looks completely original - ie, not renovated or replaced - and if it is, it has lasted very well indeed.

All the controls seem to work as intended, including the windscreen wipers, which are of the Lucas ‘add-on’ type. Trafficators are also fitted, and function well enough, although these days, they’re often overlooked by following modern drivers. There are no supplementary indicator lights, as often retrospectively installed on vehicles with trafficators to make their turning intentions a little more obvious. When going through the controls, we did notice that the nearside front sidelight is out; that the other one is working as it should suggests it may just be the bulb.

There’s a storage compartment behind the seats where the hood is usually stored. It’s carpeted and free from any significant wear and tear.

The small sidevalve engine is set low down in the engine bay and well back behind the front wheels, something that further aids the Scout’s FWD handling prowess. Being a working environment, it’s not scrupulously clean, but, with the block, head and various ancillaries painted green, and the exhaust manifold finished in (presumably high temperature) silver paint, it looks tidy enough. You won’t feel ashamed to display it at shows to the many visitors who will be keen to know more about this BSA.

There is a thermostat switch for a Kenlowe electric fan installed on the right-hand side of the engine bay; this is, as far as we can tell, the only modification from standard. And it’s a wise one too, yet easily removable if you want to completely stock spec.

The engine size is listed on the registration certificate as 1141cc. We think that a 1939 Scout should be fitted with a 1203cc unit, and aren’t aware of BSA ever having made a motor of 1141cc capacity. Complaints on a postcard if we’re wrong. However, the engine looks to be the correct BSA sidevalve unit (having compared it with pictures of the bays of other Scouts) so this could just be an inaccuracy in the paperwork. It starts easily, with choke from cold if necessary, and runs well.

The underneath of the car looks very solid. It’s been thoroughly undersealed and powder-coated where necessary, with the job done professionally and comprehensively. There’s no sign of any damage or corrosion. We’ve included a variety of shots of the BSA’s underpinnings so you can see for yourself just how good it all is.

For those used to the slightly wayward antics of pre-war cars, this Scout will come as a big surprise. With its FWD, it feels somewhat akin to an open-top Mini. The handling is very competent; it goes where you point it rather than try to wander all over the road, and corners are far more of a pleasure than they would be in something like a rear-wheel drive MG T-type. It’s a nippy little thing too; it feels faster and perkier than anything with just 32bhp has any right to. Just make sure you leave enough room for braking for, as with most cars of this era, the anchors need a little bit of time to do their thing properly.

There isn’t much history in the file; the owner during the 1990s appears to have been a very hands-on BSA enthusiast, so seems to have done a lot of work himself rather than farm it out to a specialist. So there are price lists from the BSA Front-Wheel Drive Club, orders and correspondence for various parts, photocopies (and actual copies) of magazine pieces, manuals and handbooks, and a bill that shows that, even in 1991, a pair of mild steel front wings for a Scout cost close to £1000. The more recent documentation includes MOT certificates and some servicing work in 2012. There’s also that mystery photograph of a very decrepit, dismantled Scout on a trailer which may, or may not, be this car. If it is, then a hell of a lot of work has been put in to transform it to what it is now.

The BSA Front-Wheel Drive Club’s assessment of this car was as ‘concours’, and they also said it's ‘one of the best in the country’ which we think still holds true today. It has received little use since its restoration, and obviously been well-looked after, so its condition is still excellent. It retains all its original features, with no modifications (save for the Kenlowe fan) that take it out of period. And it is a gorgeous car to look at. Vehicles this endearing can’t help but make you smile. But being behind the wheel is the best bit; the Scout was a 1930s’ FWD pioneer, and its road manners feel like a car year’s ahead of its time because of this. It’s a rare and surprising treasure.

We’ve put an estimate of between £16,000 to £20,000 on this car, reflecting how unusual and interesting it is, as well as its excellent state of repair and how easy it is to drive. This could well be the car that makes you revise how you think about pre-war machines - or, if you already know your British cars of the 1930s, you’ll already appreciate just how innovative these BSAs were, and what a fantastic example this one is.

Inspection is always encouraged (within government guidelines of course), and this particular car is located with us at The Market HQ near Abingdon; 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’.