The Aesthete's suggestions for a winter project

Anonymous, that ever vigilant defender of orthographical correctness, picked up my spelling of Packard last week. The Aesthete's school reports describe an indolent and easily distracted child, rather too fond of his own opinions. These qualities have been extended and refined in adult life so the blog is often written late at night from his bed, a sight that no reader should try and bring to mind. 

1964 Renault Dauphine. As you all probably know now, the Aesthete is polymorphously perverse in his automotive tastes so let us see how many of his fetishes are served by this little Gallic treat. One: engine at the wrong end. Two: primrose yellow. Three: unmanly. Four: red interior. Five: subtly re-engineered. Oh my God. I need a cold bath and a strong dose of bismuth.

For: Is that not enough?
Against: Not much that is obvious to me.
Investment potential: 5/10 and cheap to run.

1937 Citroen 11CL Light Fifteen: The Aesthete has been known to make silly and ill informed comments about old Citroens but admits that early examples are intriguing. In the mid-1930s they were truly extraordinary and the narrow hulled Michelin Pilote-wheeled cars are a rare thing unto themselves. This Slough-built  car has the creature comforts that the English demanded rather than the industriel steel and cloth of the French versions. It looks like a lot of work but of a rewarding sort.

For: Produced for one year only in this version.
Against: déshabillé.
Investment potential: 2/10 and make sure you can do some of it yourself.

1965 Sunbeam Alpine GT. The GT was the budget model in the Rootes sporting lineup with a removable steel hardtop only. Never mind as the steel wheels and crisp lines complement each other well and the shell looks straight and strong on this unrestored example. The Aesthete's advice is to invest in a modest repaint and leave the rest of it alone. There are too many boiled sweet Alpines already without any of you adding another one.

For: Nice and plain.
Against: You can't have it if you are going to spoil it.
Investment potential: 3/10 but only if you follow the rules outlined above.

1972 BMW 3.0 Si. Mercedes had a lot to learn from BMW whose big sedans were both more sporting and more luxurious than the Dusseldorf taxi. The negative side is all of that expensive bouclé cloth and solid wood deteriorates over time, leaving the interiors looking as if a wolf pack has been in residence. This one looks at least presentable, leaving an undiagnosed engine problem as the sticking point. Sort that out and you will own one of the best cars of its era.

For: Smooth, fast and elegant.
Against: Sickly six cylinder BMW engines are nothing trivial.
Investment potential: 3/10 if it is an easy fix.

1968 Austin Princess: Proposed as a small Bentley, the Princess was a clever repackaging of a lowly Austin but loaded with a Rolls Royce military engine that whomped out a rather impressive 145 horsepower. No doubt this generous reserve of performance was never used to the full and most went from public service to mature owners who pottered around with them. This one probably hauled Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara around in Fiji so may appeal to old colonial era snobs out there. You know who you are.

For: Better than it needed to be.
Against: 145 bhp in a Westminster...
 2/10 as long as you get it running and spend no further money on it.

On some faraway beach...

1951 Jowett Jupiter. Back in Blighty at a time when unorthodoxy was a serious offence, getting the Austrian designer of the Tiger tank and V2 rocket to author your sports car carried a certain risk. Robert Eberan von Eberhorst's space framed Jupiter was companion to the brilliant Javelin saloon, the only British post war family car that had anything to say in terms of innovation.  To justify the gawky looks, compare it to a MG TC.

For: Genius.
Against: People have forgotten who Noddy was but they may still say unkind things.
Investment potential: 5/10. Aluminium body, small engine, race pedigree.