1969 AC 428

Apprehension is to be expected. Lips and fingers are turning blue, much like the air, as we wait for the rain to pass. North Wales in winter may be beautiful, but only when you can see it. If nothing else, this gives us time to become reacquainted with the AC 428, a car which, from inside at least, worms its way into your affections from the get-go. With its expansive glasshouse, acres of black leather, chunky switchgear and that fabulous U-shaped gear selector, it’s hard not to come over all Johnny Jet Set and idly daydream of crushing continents in a single bound.

Which was rather the point of the exercise in the first place. This was a hyper-exclusive GT car rather than a rudimentary road burner, but the 428 has long suffered from a perception problem. The 428 borrowed heavily from its celebrated forebear, the mighty Cobra, and you could argue that it suffered for not being Cobra shaped. And while non-Cobra types may fall for its Italian styling, they foresee blunt instrument belligerence rather than long-legged versatility and, as such, discount it. Or at least they did as times change and norms shift. Values have more than doubled over the past couple of years, the 1969 example here being currently for sale at just shy of £140,000. Drive one and you will wonder why it was underappreciated for so long.

To fully understand the reasoning behind how and why the 428 came into being, first you have to remember that demand for the Cobra never was white hot. While it may be the most replicated car on the planet, and by some margin, sales weren’t particularly strong in period. Scroll back to the mid ’60s and production of AC’s own MkIII (it was never badged as a Cobra) was patchy at best. A new model was needed and the Thames Ditton firm’s managing director Derek Hurlock began to map out ideas for something that bit more grown up, something a bit more couture.

AC had experience of making its own engines; it had done so for years. However, the Cobra influence loomed large here, the heady blend of a proven English chassis, a Detroit-sourced bent eight and a little Latin styling sorcery clearly being the way forward. The new car would feature a revised version of the coil-sprung MkIII’s parallel-tube frame, but with an extra 6in inserted into its wheelbase. The Cobra’s 427cu in V8 was considered, and the prototype was so powered, but it was ultimately deemed a little too uncouth for use in a luxury GT so Hurlock instead opted for the 428cu in bent eight from the Galaxie uber-barge. This low-stressed unit pushed out a (gross) 345bhp at 4600rpm and an elephantine 462lb ft of torque at just 2800rpm in full FE ‘Police Interceptor’ spec.

Hurlock canvassed several Italian styling houses to create a suitably swish outline, Ghia and Bertone chief among them. Underwhelmed by their proposals, he instead turned to Pietro Frua’s eponymous carrozzerie following an introduction by Swiss AC distributor, Hubert Patthey. An agreement was reached whereby the prolific pen for hire would design and also build bodyshells. That the 428 emerged bearing more than a passing resemblance to the Maserati Mistral was intentional. Hurlock wanted something similar, and Frua had penned the Maserati after all, but the legend that panels were interchangeable between the two cars is precisely that. Only the door handles and glass frames were carried over.

The prototype - a convertible - was completed in time for the big reveal at the October ’65 Earls Court Motor Show. Dubbed the AC427, if only briefly, it was a hit with the press and public alike, the prototype enjoying a secondary life as a star of the small screen on appearing in the final series of The Avengers. A fixed-head coupé version followed five months later at the ’66 Geneva Motor Show, but there were one or two bumps in the road that hobbled the 428’s chances before it could get into its stride.

Problems didn’t stretch to a lack of demand. AC had a bulging order book despite the 428 costing almost twice that of a Jaguar E-type (a lofty £5573 in ’68). The issue was one of supply. The deal with Frua meant rolling chassis were dispatched to Italy on slave wheels, with partially completed cars returning to Surrey on open air transporters for trimming, wiring and painting. As such, there was considerable time lag between orders being placed and cars being delivered. What’s more, having untreated double-skin bodies open to the elements didn’t aid matters, and a fair amount of rectification work was required when they arrived in Thames Ditton.

Worse was to come. A steel strike in Italy in 1969 and into ’70 meant delivery dates became something of a lottery. On occasion, AC completed two cars in the same week, but this was the exception rather than the rule. Nevertheless, interest in the 428 remained high. Even more so after the motoring media finally got their mits on a demonstrator, John Bolster being among the most effusive. The broadcaster and former racer recorded a top speed of 145mph and 0-60mph time of 5.4sec, and enthused in Autosport: ‘It seems like a long time since I was able to go all starry-eyed over a British car... It is therefore all the more delightful to give unreserved praise to the AC 428.’ Autocar, meanwhile, was rather more muted in its admiration. It summarised in stop-start fashion: ‘[The 428] was extremely fast and not too heavy on fuel. Plenty of adhesion; little roll, no dive or squat. Firm ride, comfortable seats. Positive steering, too much kickback. High price for [a] hand-built, exclusive GT from [a] small manufacturer’.

Regardless of the positive ink, the 428’s days were clearly numbered. Attempts to do away with the logistical nightmare of shuttling cars backwards and forwards between the UK and Italy came to naught. Coventry Panels was sounded out about building bodyshells in Blighty, but without any joy. Throw in an ‘oil shock’ or two and demand for thirsty V8 GTs soon dwindled to nothing. The 428 was further undone by heightened safety and emissions regulations. AC enjoyed far greater prosperity knocking out duck egg blue invalid carriages for the Ministry of Health than ever it did making luxury GTs, and Hurlock threw in the towel in 1973. In nine years, just 81 cars had been completed, 29 of them in open form. The last, a restyled roadster with a longer nose, pop-up headlights and wider wheels, was the only car to feature this body style, a new four-seater, two-door saloon by Frua (often referred to as the 429) similarly remaining unique. AC changed tack and acquired the rights to the Bohanna & Stables Diablo show car which, following the mother of all gestation periods, emerged as the 3000ME.

Which brings us to today. As 428s fell down the food chain, a few were converted into ersatz Cobras, while others simply rotted away. Accordingly, survivors in this condition are rare. Up close, it couldn’t look further removed from the car that bore it. The 428 appears every inch the glamorous GT, albeit an Italian one. There are few hints of it being a product of Old Albion, that’s for sure. That said, it doesn’t have the feel of a copy and paste Maserati clone, either; at least not in the metal. It appears lower, wider and more menacing than the Mistral ever did, the proportions being perhaps a little skew-whiff in places, but it has presence to spare. Nor is it overly adorned, brightwork having been used sparingly. The outline certainly hasn’t lost its impact through familiarity.

The sense of drama is perhaps not mirrored on the inside, but the cockpit is attractive and well stocked. The oh-so period dash is home to classic white-on-black Smiths instruments and man-sized switchgear, the heater controls being partially obscured by the auto shift lever, at least when it’s in ‘park’. If anything, the earlier dash was more attractive still and perhaps better ergonomically, but it’s a matter of personal preference. The seats lack much in the way of lateral support, but, despite the slightly offset pedals, your driving stance doesn’t feel unnaturally skewed as with some of the AC’s better known contemporaries. All-round visibility is excellent thanks to the bountiful use of glass and spindly pillars, and there’s also a capacious boot as befits a true grand tourer. And while strictly a two-seater, fastbacks come complete with a rear padded bench should you absolutely need to transport midgets or the most flexible of contortionists.

And then the good bit. Fire up and the 7-litre V8 doesn’t erupt into life. There is no Cobra-esque surround-sound barrage of pent-up fury here. Instead, there’s a gentle burble as befits an urbane GT. While the 428 was offered with four-speed Ford TopLoader manual ’boxes, the majority were sold with the three-speed C6 automatic unit and it suits the car’s character perfectly: there’s so much torque, why change gear more than you have to? Select Drive, depress the light(ish) throttle and it gently ambles of the line. Gear changes are near seamless, the torque converter cushioning each movement. It’s only when you make full use of the kickdown function that the 428’s roots start to show.

All too often with cars of this ilk, fast doesn’t necessarily feel fast. Here it does. Keep your toe in and the back end squats a little, finds traction and then the 428 launches itself to the horizon. It really does make your eyes widen. Nor does it feel intimidating; you’re not obliged to cling to the tiller like a life raft as it darts across the road. The rack and pinion set-up isn’t exactly communicative, but there are no vague spots nor eeriness at speed.

Driven with decorum, what strikes you most of all is the ride quality. Given the car’s shared ancestry, not to mention the lack of ground clearance, you expect to feel every change in topography though your posterior, but no. Drive a Cobra, at least an early example on cart springs, and you’re constantly aware that you’re sitting on a chassis rail. Here, the longer wheelbase makes all the difference while the coil-over dampers iron out the worst bumps. In period, some road testers commented on how the back end could get a little bouncy, but that is true of most cars of this ilk. If anything, it feels far more planted than many alleged thoroughbreds that we can think of.

However, this isn’t a car best suited to B-road bravado. Despite the engine being mounted well back in the frame for a 53 per cent rearward bias, the AC’s weight begins to show on testy switchbacks. Abusing the scales at 3214lb (1458kg), it doesn’t feel particularly agile, the Girling discs (with twin servos) scrubbing off excess speed but in their own time. It corners flatly at moderately enthusiastic speeds, but somehow you sense it wouldn’t take much to get the tail to start flailing. The 428 is patently a cruiser, more at home devouring the Autostrada than descending the Horseshoe Pass, but that is par for the course.

Make no mistake, the 428 is a devastatingly capable machine, one that in so many ways has been poorly served by history. It’s all too easy to rail against the injustice of it all; shout about how it could have been a contender had fate been kinder. The truth, however, is clear cut: it was always onto a loser despite having so much going for it. But that was then. Some might view the 428 as being a reconfigured Cobra with some of the venom, but none of the charm, but it’s their loss. The truth is, it’s one of the best cars ever to wear the AC badge which is high praise indeed.

This article originally appeared in Octane magazine.

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