Review : Leyland P76

In Australia, the Leyland P76 was billed as ‘Anything but average.’ Unfortunately (and unjustifiably so), it also turned out to be anything but successful.

Richard Gunn samples Leyland’s legendary leviathan from down under…

Words and pictures: Richard Gunn

Leyland P76 delivered a premature P45

And you thought all Leyland P76s were orange.

Typical… You wait for a Leyland P76 for decades, and then seven turn up at once…

For fans of British Leyland – yes, Ford and Vauxhall enthusiasts, there are such strange creatures, and I count myself as one of them – the P76 is an almost mythical beast. After years of squirreling UK models down to the far side of the world, lightly modifying their bodies and mechanics, and hoping in vain Australian car buyers wouldn’t notice – which, unfortunately, they did, and so bought Holdens, Fords and Chryslers instead – the Antipodean arm of the British Motor Corporation finally decided to go the whole hog and build a proper car capable of withstanding Australia’s tough, unforgiving conditions.

Conceived in the late-1960s, it wasn’t until well into the BL era that the P76 was launched, by which time it was almost doomed to failure by the constant crises that were then dragging down the company in the UK. If BL couldn’t even cope at home, what chance its remote Leyland Australia outpost, 13,000 miles away?

What’s in a name?

Supposedly named after BL boss Donald Stokes’ wartime platoon number or, alternatively, a stillborn Rover vehicle – think P3, P4, P5 etc. – Project 76 was quite an animal. With its sprawling body designed by Triumph’s pet Italian styling guru, Giovanni Michelotti, the car came with two engine options. For the budget conscious, there was the 2.6-litre six-cylinder E-Series-engined model, but who cared about that when a monstrous 4.4-litre V8 was also on offer?

Granted, even though this overblown expansion of Rover’s ubiquitous V8 developed less than 200bhp, it offered vast amounts of torque. And that unstressed pulling power was more important than out-and-out performance in a country where popping down to the local pub could mean a 500-mile round trip through a dust storm and breaking down could be fatal if the crocodiles, spiders, snakes or koalas with attitude got to you before a human with a set of spanners did.

Like Citroën’s 2CV, the P76 was designed with the special needs of its homeland in mind. Forget transporting a couple of French peasants across a ploughed field without breaking any of their eggs though; one of the P76’s most notable features was its enormous boot, capable of holding a 44-gallon steel drum.

Presumably, this requirement was either for ensuring enough petrol to feed the P76’s mid-teens consumption, or simply a means for some Australians to make sure they had enough beer to last the evening. And, despite probably being capable of also fitting a Mini in its boot, this colossal car kept complication to a minimum by featuring two less body pressings than its tiny counterpart, or so Leyland claimed.

Lauded by the press

However, despite being critically applauded by the Australian press and orders outstripping supply at first, the P76 dream soon turned sour. There were teething problems, including overheating – something owners didn’t really care for in a nation which hasn’t quite got to grips with the concept of cold – and the usual industrial issues which BL managed to provoke wherever it operated.

Within months of the P76’s launch, the 1973 Fuel Crisis hit, but a major factor in the car’s failing fortunes was when component suppliers seemed unable to meet Leyland’s needs, thus stalling production. It’s still commonly believed that Australia’s Big Three – Ford, Holden and Chrysler – were covertly putting pressure on companies to slow down the flow of parts to Leyland in an attempt to kill off what they feared was a genuinely competitive and worthy rival.

Unfortunately they succeeded; the P76 was prematurely dead in Australia after only a couple of years, and limped on in New Zealand until 1976, just three years after its birth. In subsequent years, it came to be known as the P38; just half a car.

Tracking one down…

Plans to sell the car over here – as a Vanden Plas – consequently came to nought, something which has no doubt caused many a BL aficionado to weep into their chocolate brown wonky plastic dashboard ever since. So, during a trip to Australia, how could I resist getting my hands on one? Fortunately, the Leyland P76 Owners’ Club of New South Wales obliged and arranged a meet-up of seven owners with their cars, for me to take my pick.

Although highly tempted by a bright pink taxi version – well, who wouldn’t be? – I eventually settled on the 1973 P76 Executive of Tony and Kay DeLuca to try out. This Crystal White car was one of Leyland’s original press fleet, so it’s used to journalistic licence. And, had the P76 made it to Britain, it is the Executive model that would have been for sale in dealerships alongside our Allegros, Marinas, Maxis and Princesses. So, what did we miss out on?

Driving impressions

Leyland P76

You can’t really call the P76 an attractive car, not in the conventional sense. Imposing, certainly, and it’s definitely a vehicle that makes its presence felt. But Michelotti’s oft-delicate touch displayed on previous Triumphs is much less obvious here, on the bigger canvas of the Australian car. Styling is definitely in the American idiom with large overhangs front and rear, plus some distinctly non-European touches such as the thin, vertical repeater lights on the front and rear flanks and the snug-fit wraparound bumpers.

If it weren’t for the Leyland badges – and there are lot, on the wheels, the nose, and written in prominent capitals on the boot – there would be little to suggest European styling origins. With its external front sun visor and rear window louvres, this optional extra-loaded P76 looks even more unlike anything a Northern hemisphere Leyland product.

However, up close, certain trademark Michelotti touches manifest themselves; such as the ridges in the bonnet and the folds in the flat panels elsewhere on the body. And that nose; look carefully. There are distinct echoes of Triumph Stag in its narrow strip of a grille, framed by twin headlamps and combined indicator and sidelamp units at each end.

Individual looks

The chubby, sculptured tail-lamps are a distinctive feature not shared by any other car I’ve ever seen and, apparently, the first ever-use of chromed plastic on a car. Nice memorable first there, Leyland. Urban myth also has it that the whole light attachment was so large because the P76 was manufactured on the same production line as the Marina.

Which was a much smaller car, of course. And when the first P76s rolled down this line, they turned one particular sharp corner only to end up shaving their tails on a too-close wall. Rather than do something about the building, Leyland simply modified the car’s tooling so a significant chunk of P76 arse could be removed by hand beforehand, to save it being knocked off later by a bit of errant brickwork.

Leyland P76

Before clambering inside – with cars this vast, that seems a more accurate description than simply getting in – I check out the legendary 44-gallon drum-capable boot. And I can well believe it’s capable of swallowing such an item and more besides, for it is absolutely gargantuan, with the sort of capacity that even some estates would kill for.

The vertically-mounted spare wheel barely makes a dent in the available space. No wonder the station wagon version of the P76 was stillborn – it simply wasn’t needed, the saloon being more than capable of consuming most loads in its own right. There’s a similar amount of space under the bonnet, albeit taken up with the mass of V8 and associated pipework. Bright blue rocker covers and a blue air filter give the engine a vaguely US air too.

The spacious cabin is almost a tribute to the highs (and lows) of Seventies interior design. Anyone who has ever revelled in the fake wood trim of an Allegro or Mk3 Cortina will go wild over the amount of plastic timber that decorates the P76 Executive.

What’s it like inside?

It’s everywhere; the dashboard, instrument panel, centre console, doors and even adorning the original radio (which proudly proclaims itself a ‘Leyland Premier,’ although that could, of course, just be the wish for what the company hoped the P76 could achieve for it in Australian sales charts). The deep-dish gauges are reminiscent of contemporary Fords and the fascia layout is quite advanced with sliding controls and curved switches, most embellished with yet more fake wood. It’s radiogram-tastic.

The intention was probably for a funky Space 1999/UFO disco appeal. To the Australia of 1973, this was what the future looked like and Leyland certainly went all out to embrace it. Buttoned-down pale blue upholstery with a honeycomb pattern completes the inside, although special mention has to be made of the prominent telescopic black padded steering wheel with fake stitching and an unmissable Leyland roundel plum in its centre.

Just in case the driver could possibly forget what he or she was piloting, the wheel in this car is actually from a Force 7 Coupe, but standard ones were no less outlandish and massive. It certainly makes an Allegro ‘Quartic’ item look sensible and restrained by comparison.

Leyland P76

On the road

Turn the key – it’s a conventional column-mounted ignition lock – and the V8 lazily rumbles into life. Thanks to the sound-proofing, the noise is much muted; at rest, there’s little evidence that it is running especially if classic Rod Stewart suddenly invades the radio, as happened when we fired up this example.

Somehow, it seemed the perfect soundtrack for this Leyland. The loudest sound though was the rhythmic clicking of the fuel pump although Tony explained that this was an auxiliary unit fitted to overcome fuel evaporation at high temperatures and could be turned off if required.

The Borg-Warner three-speed automatic transmission is a straightforward slide lever, from park through reverse and neutral then slightly over to the left into drive. Letting off the brake pedal – which, in a very superior way, proclaims ‘Power Discs’ in its centre – results in a lurch forward as I adapt to 4.4-litres of Aussie-modified British V8 born in America.

There’s a lot of low-down grunt on offer, and even the smallest caress of the accelerator pedal piles on speed fast. As we’re in an urban part of Parramatta (a city near Sydney) with even more stringent speed limits – in kilometres per hour instead of miles – than British towns, and Australian traffic police are armed, I’m very conscious of trying to keep the mighty P76 in check. That’s not easy because it is a vast machine.

In Britain, it would probably feel like a giant, but Australia is blessed with a lot more space and an enthusiasm for generously proportioned cars; hence the wide roads are built to suit such vehicles. It’s an easy thing to drive and feels to me like an expanded Stag; there’s that same simplicity of use, coupled with a comfortable ride and oodles of power on tap.

Punchy acceleration

Stab the right pedal hard when the opportunity allows and you can even make it sound like a Stag as well. There’s not a lot of driver feedback though; the floaty, soft suspension dampens out a lot of what would usually be transmitted back to passengers in a less-nonchalant car.

Power steering on the P76 came courtesy of Jaguar and it shows; it’s very light and makes the Leyland prone to over-steering before you get used to how much assistance there is. Australia is a nation where bends are far less frequent and severe than in Europe – set off south from Darwin in the Northern Territory and you’ll drive for well over a thousand miles before you come to the first decent roundabout (which just happens to have Ayers Rock/Uluru in the centre of it, rather like we put flowerbeds or abstract vandalised sculptures on ours) but, when a corner does creep up on you, it’s initially tricky not to turn in more than you need. This is a steering wheel it’s effortless to over-twiddle. Body roll is less than I was expecting though; there’s quite a bit of lean, but I was anticipating an unsettling tilt.

That’s not the case though; the ride/handling compromise seems to have been well-thought out by the Engineers. Braking is very sharp indeed; despite the size and weight of the P76, the front disc/rear drum set-up is very successful at reining in this large slab of mobile metal. Perhaps trumpeting those Power Discs on the brake pedal isn’t overstatement at all?


The overall impression I’m left with is of a car that tried hard to meet the requirements of the Australian market, and probably did so just as effectively as, if not better than, its Ford Falcon, Holden Kingswood and Chrysler Valiant rivals. As much as I’ve enjoyed trying out this legendary Leyland in its native land, I’m not convinced it would have caught on in Britain if it had been exported here; it feels like a creation that needs more wide open space than this small island could offer it.

But who knows? Sadly, we never got to find out, and neither, really, did the P76’s homeland, for it was killed off long before its time by the many difficult circumstances conspiring against it. Yet another Leyland ‘What if?’ that turned into a tragic ‘If only’ far too soon.

Leyland P76


1968: For years, the British Motor Corporation has been producing modified versions of UK cars to compete in the lucrative large car segment of the Australian marketplace. But models like the big-engined Morris Marshall, Austin Freeway and Wolseley 24/80 had proved little match for native Ford Falcons, Holden Kingswoods and Chrysler Valiants.

Finally, with the advent of the brave new era of British Leyland back in the motherland, the go-ahead was given to finally develop an ‘All-Australian’ model. As an interim, the six-cylinder Austin and Morris Tasman and Austin Kimberley were launched in 1970, closely-related to the Landcrab but with more square-cut looks. Meanwhile, work continued on the ‘clean sheet’ P76 project, envisaged with six-cylinder and V8 engines – the latter based on Rover’s V8 but vastly expanded – and a completely original body design by Giovanni Michelotti.

1973: After delays due to union and supplier problems, the P76 saloon was launched in June by what was then Leyland Australia. The base model came with a 2623cc six-cylinder overhead-cam engine, higher-spec models sported a 4416cc V8. All were available in a variety of intriguing and loud paint schemes such as Hairy Lime, Home on the Th’Orange, Am Eye Blue, Peel Me A Grape and, our favourite, Oh Fudge – which was brown.

The advertising slogan for the car, which soon became known as the Wedge – yes, Princess fans, the P76 got there first – was ‘Anything but average.’ In a major promotional scoop, Leyland made its own James Bond-style movie The Carmakers and got it shown on a number of Australian TV networks before anyone realised it was actually one long advert for the company and its new car. It hasn’t been shown since…

1974 Although it has won Wheels’ Car of the Year award, it soon became obvious that the P76 wasn’t living up to sales expectations due to reliability issues, production troubles, the Fuel Crisis and problems with component availability, rumoured to have been provoked by Chrysler, Ford and Holden secretly putting pressure on outside suppliers.

Nevertheless, Leyland presseD on with its P76 plans. After the car achieved success in the 1974 World Cup Rally, a special edition Targa Florio was unleashed, complete with garish body graphics. The sporty and awesome-looking hatchback Force 7 Coupe was announced but only 56 were constructed and most of these ended up getting crushed soon after birth. In addition, an estate was also pencilled in and plans were even revealed to sell the P76 in Britain as a Vanden Plas model, with sales of over 5000 a year envisaged.

However, Leyland’s worsening financial problems in both the UK and Australia resulted in the P76 plug being pulled at the end of the year after a mere 12,524 have been constructed. Leyland’s Zetland (Sydney) plant closed down the following year. However, New Zealand continued to build the P76 in V8 form only.

1976 Production of the P76 drew to a close in New Zealand; in total around 22,000 examples were constructed, less than half of the 50,000 Leyland had hoped to sell each year.

Leyland P76

1976 Leyland P76 Executive

Vital statistics
Engine 4416cc/V8/OHV
Transmission Three-speed auto
Maximum power 192bhp@4250rpm
Maximum torque 285lb ft@2500rpm
Maximum speed 107mph
0-60mph Approx 9.0 seconds
Consumption 15.8mpg
Suspension Front: Independent by MacPherson struts, coil springs, anti-roll bar, telescopic dampers.
Live axle, coil springs, telescopic dampers
Keith Adams


  1. That is a top motor. Just shows that BL could mix it with the best in a competitive marketplace when they tried, rather than being complacent and giving us Brits the Marina…

  2. Hey, I own a 74 p76 deluxe v8 only done a geninue 54000kms absolutley original & I have owned holdens & fords of the same vintage & I can say that it is a far better performer than the others,They are a underestimated car, also getting very scarce especially in good  original condition & haven’t had changes added ie. mags, twin exhausts, lowered etc. 

    I do prefer the english classics to the american muscle cars.cheers 

  3. The rear lights and boot rear panel are rather reminiscent of the Vauxhall Cresta/Viscount PC, though none the worse for that. I’m sure Vanden Plas could have made a splendid job of the interior with real wood, real leather and real chrome in place of the fake stuff, but I hope the grille would have been more like the vdP Princess R than the Allegro.

    • The Cresta was the sort of car that could have done well in Australia, I think there was a Holden version called the Kingswood, as it was a British attempt to imitate big American cars with Americanised styling and only having a straight six to power it. Never sold in huge numbers, as well off buyers preferred their Rovers and Jaguars and the Cresta had poor rustproofing, but a better car than the big Fords of the time, that often came with puny 2 litre engines.

      • The higher spec Mk4 Zephyr / Zodiac / Executive had 2.5 & 3 litre V6s, & possibly had one eye on the Australian market, though they would have overlapped with the Australian made Falcon & probably quite a bit more expensive as high import taxes were in place.

  4. Bernard is right about the vague resemblance of the rear lights to a Cresta/Viscount PC. Showing my age when I say I remember their launch in the mid 60s.

    What a pity the P76 wasn’t a bigger success – but we should be used to that being the case with many BL products.

  5. I’m sorry adapted to local conditions surely means not overheating.
    My 20 year old Falcon I drove around NZ in never overheated even after 360+ thousand km. It was also huge even compared to my current XJ8 and not remotely fast despite it’s 4l engine. If it was any guide to Ozzy motors they really wouldn’t do well over here, far too cheaply constructed for a car as a big as an S class and the ability to cover huge mileages doesn’t help when no one can afford to fuel it.

    • I think they only overheated initially when running in (something to do with the all-alloy engine). Also, they were much lighter than the competition, again due to the all-alloy engine which weighed the same as the 2.6L 6cyl. A friend had a four speed manual and it was extremely quick and handled and braked well, so not sure where you get the performance not being good.

      • I was a mechanic at a Morris dealer in New Zealand in the ’70s and worked on all the “pommy” BLMC stuff plus all the Aussi versions. I was the one who actually liked Allegros, 1300s, Marinas and Kimberlys. I remember replacing inlet manifolds on the V8s because the blocks flexed and caused gasket leaks, including coolant leaks. We climbed into the engine bays to work on the six cylinder cars. Them were the good old days 🙂

  6. @9 the 4.1 falcon and the 4.2 holdens werent particularly quick either, when you think about it, in fact I think the Holden 6’s probably had more going for them than the 253 holden v8…alex

  7. The Leyland Leviathan was a short-lived double-deck bus in the 1920s, replaced by the Leyland Titan. Mike Sutcliffe of Totternhoe in Bedfordshire, has amassed a collection of elderly Leylands, some of which he has restored and others await restoration. When asked a few years back if he had a Leviathan in his possession, he said not, but that he did know where there is one. One wonders if that Leviathan still exists and, if so, whether someone has acquired it with a view to restoring it.

  8. great motor. I have one in an EH holden. I think the designer was very overrated and must have sounded great in presentations….more a salesman than designer(big problem with architects and the like…most engineers would do a better job of designing, but facts and brains get them degrees). triumph would have sold a vast amount more with a different designer…..people will buy a nice looking turd over an ugly great car. The p76 was very ugly and well ahead of it’s time. The other manufactuers could wait until the 80’s to produce a better engineered car -they looked good. btw, The EH wasn’t beautiful but it wasn’t ugly

  9. It’s been a few years since I last posted on this forum, I still have my 74 original P76 & it’s now done 61000kms without any problems of any sort. it’s still a magnificent car, many other motorists come up to me to view & talk about it & on one occasion a cop stopped me just to have a look. ( traffic cops in NZ use to have them so they could catch fast speedsters)
    There are some beautiful restored examples of these cars around still in NZ that belong to members of the p76 Leyland club throughout NZ & it’s certainly great to mix & mingle at the p76 rallies, AGMS, meets etc & line up next to the other beauties to compare & compete with one & other.

  10. Re: P76 Styling…..the side view is quite attractive though it does look a tad like the Crown from the mid-seventies. A pity they didn’t make the front look like a Triumph 2500 (Sedan) and copy the Jaguar XJ6 rear taillights and shape.

    Mechanically they should have developed it purely as a V8 and left the 6 cylinder for the Marina. That would have saved development and inventory costs and created a 3 car, 3 engine model range: Mini (1100/1275 4cyl), Marina (2620 6cyl) and the P76 V8.

    A better name would have helped too. Could have gone totally retro and called it the LEYLAND EIGHT. The Marina could have been renamed LEYLAND SIX and the Mini the LEYLAND FOUR.

  11. .The power steering was not Adwest engineering , it was a Cam Gears rack assembly with a TRW power head, as a power steering repair specialist i have done many of them.

  12. I quite like the thing, although trying to park it in a modern car park not so much (Sainsbury’s Stanway I’m looking at you here).
    PS you’ll probably hit an easy 18-20mpg if you take off that windscreen shade and fit a tint strip to the screen – most effective air brake fitted to a car since the ’55 Le Mans Mercs.
    I wonder why the bigger capacity v8 wasn’t used here – I know the Police would have liked it, and didn’t some nutters at a tuning company offer a turbo v8 SD1?

  13. PS a belated name for that head injury inducing steering wheel. The “Shoetic”. It seriously looks like they nicked it off the back of a Clarks lorry.

  14. A brave attempt by Leyland Australia to move with the times, by 1973 most Aussies no longer wanted their small, British type cars and wanted Americanised V8 cars, and Leyland launched the P76 to take on Holden and Ford in this market. However, the oil crisis hit in 1974, making small cars( often Japanese) popular again, and for all a considerable market remained for V8s as the oil crisis eased, the P76 was seen as coming to the V8 party too late, and reliability issues led to the car’s demise in Australia.

  15. Unfortunately the owner of this car Tony Deluca passed away recently of cancer it is good to see that this car can be seen by many of a great example of a P76 Executive. RIP Tony.

  16. Forget trying to sell the P76 in the UK but it could have gone well in the States – right size right engine, a four door Triumph Stag. I know – LHD conversion.

    On the “overheating” I suspect it’s lack of familiarity with alloy engines, I remember the Nissan-engined commodores having similar issues in the 80s when people topped them up with tap water

  17. Having first glimpsed a P76 in early 1972 when I was at Rover in Solihull – though I didn’t know what it was at that time – and thought it far too large a car for the UK, I was very interested when they were released onto the Australian market. In 1973 I bought a very early (from memory, the SIDO number was 4483) white Deluxe V8, with three-on-the-tree auto, which came with a pair of Lucas 7” round headlamps, comfortable bench seats, hubcaps instead of wheel-trim, rubber mats and no tacho or air-con.

    The car shown in the article is fitted with a number of non-standard after-market extras. The rather oddly-styled Force 7 steering wheel has already been mentioned, but I would contend that was probably due to the standard wheel – which had a boomerang-shaped horn-pad, emphasizing the fact that it was Australian – having a very strangely-shaped concave cross-section, resulting in a quite sharp edge that faced the driver and which left a deep impression on the hands. Consequently, almost every P76 gained either a steering wheel glove or – far less commonly – a replacement wheel soon after sale. It would appear, from information received from Leyland Australia at the time, that the strange cross-section was a result of the typist who prepared the spec-sheet having mixing up the words convex and concave… It was to have been rectified on the facelift model, but…

    The door mirrors too have been replaced, the original chromed ones of different design being somewhat BL-flimsy and would move themselves out of alignment due to air-pressure at speed. The article also mentions that a fuel booster-pump has been fitted; one of the issues with the P76 is that the car would sometimes suffer from fuel-starvation. This was actually caused by the needle-valve in the float chamber sticking. Unfortunately, it would stick either fully open, the resulting overflow staining the inlet manifold, which sits atop the motor between the two cylinder heads, or in the closed position, which caused the engine to die and a consequent ‘failure to proceed.’ Replacement with a new needle from Bendix Corp usually fixed the problem. The overheating issue was generally encountered only when the car was new and was frequently caused by an undetected falling fluid level in the cooling system, as the car actually used coolant, rather than lost it; close inspection did not reveal any leaks. Keeping a bottle of fluid in the plenum area forward of the windscreen, coupled with monitoring of the levels, avoided the issue. I think it’s referred to as ‘character’…

    The P76 suffered from the usual BL characteristics, i.e. patchy build quality, stupid mistakes such as the vibrating door-lock buttons (replace with rubberized ones from the contemporary Nissan Patrol), windscreen surround trim that vibrated at speed and would sometime fly off (packing-out with cardboard fixed that) and a general lack of product development/funding; unsurprising, given that it was BL. However, the P76 offered better fuel consumption, handling, steering and braking – those standard ‘Power discs’ were a big improvement on the standard drums then offered by Ford/Holden/Chrysler, though the discs themselves were identical to the optional offering on the Chrysler Valiant. The P76 also offered much better interior room and approximately 36 cu ft/1,019 Lt luggage capacity (drop in the 44-gallon drum and there’s still considerable room for luggage on the upper level, where the hat’s shown in the photo; no, the rear seat squab does not fold), as well as better forward vision, due to the sloping bonnet line. It also had significantly higher Australian content that the other ‘home-grown’ rivals.

    This particular example is fitted with a sunshade, probably from Alvee Productions, a driver’s door weather-shield (Cyplas Industries), a rear window exterior louvre (Aunger) and a tow-bar (Hayman-Reece). Incidentally, the P76 was an excellent tow-car; I used to regularly tow my Viscount caravan from Melbourne up to Brisbane (approx. 1,700 km/1,060 miles each way) and the car hardly noticed that the van was on the back. Solo on a distance run, the P76 would return 25-26 mpg, a function of its lighter (c.1,300 kg) weight, compared to its rivals; not at all bad for a large 4.4 Lt V8 car. In the traffic-light GP, it would also hold a 302 (4.9-Lt) Falcon Hardtop to 60 mph, at which point the difference in gearing would start to take effect. The P76 was essentially a much better car than the 4.1-Lt straight-six Ford XC Falcon Auto that succeeded it in my garage – and I say that as a Ford man, having worked for them at Broadmeadows (Melbourne) and owned about ten over the years; indeed, I still drive one, being a late-model Ford Territory. Many people regard the P76 as a ‘lemon’ – almost to the point that it’s become an urban myth – but they’re invariably people that have never owned or driven one. For me personally, the Leyland P76 is one of the standouts – for all the right reasons.

  18. “Space 1999 / UFO disco appeal”
    – not only do I know exactly what you mean but this made me laugh very much

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