Granted, as the 180th Interceptor ever made, this right-hand-drive '67 Type I could be worse. The first few dozen of these overheating, pig-handling, self-immolating rustbuckets came with Vignale-built bodies of such staggeringly poor quality that the ENGLISH wouldn't accept them, which is saying quite a mouthful. Even as it is, this British-built version was apparently made from an alloy of salt, wet newspapers, and tuna cans. The front floors, both sills, most of the exterior front bodywork, and the left doorpost are all shot; the inner front fenders and box sections have taken a similar stroll across the periodic table, as have the lower parts of all four outer fenders. The hood, while fairly free of corrosion, appears to have been run over by a monster truck.

On the upside, the greenhouse and rear clip aren't too bad. The rear suspension points are nice and solid, and the twin-sewer-pipe tube frame--miraculously escaping the usual rust ahead of the firewall that causes the entire front half of these cars to break off and roll away on their own--is totally sound. I can only chalk this up to a liberal coating of Limey lubricants having leaked from the sump and gearbox.

The engine (a Jensen-spec Chrysler 383), transmission (787 Torque-Flite), brakes, and radiator were all supposedly rebuilt by the car's last owner. I half-heartedly buy it regarding the brakes and radiator, which look pretty new. As to the engine, I think he's defined "rebuild" as "a new can of Ford-blue engine paint."

This fine example of how Britain lost its empire comes with good glass all around, working window motors, good (rare Type I) dash and console metal, the pathetic remains of four original Armstrong Selectaride shocks, and a fairly cursory paper trail.