The dawn of a new era

The first Japanese vehicle imported into the UK was a Daihatsu. Forty years on, Andrew Roberts test-drives the car that spearheaded an invasion

Anyone who reads British motoring periodicals of the 1960s will notice how the adverts for many imported cars were tucked out of sight towards the rear of the magazine. Small boxes placed by obscure dealers in remote corners of London would extol the virtues of equally obscure cars from Poland, Czechoslovakia, East Germany and Japan.

Anyone who reads British motoring periodicals of the 1960s will notice how the adverts for many imported cars were tucked out of sight towards the rear of the magazine. Small boxes placed by obscure dealers in remote corners of London would extol the virtues of equally obscure cars from Poland, Czechoslovakia, East Germany and Japan.

In 1964, Dufay Motors of Birmingham began importing the Compagno Berlina, a small saloon made by a previously unknown company called Daihatsu. This development attracted mild interest in the motoring press, and both Autocar and Motor tested the press car, CGH 8B. Their writers regarded the Daihatsu with patrician amusement, not least because of a sales brochure published in both English and Spanish. Autocar wrote: "The Daihatsu does impress for the quality of its workmanship, and there are many who understandably prefer a car that is well made, even if it is out-dated and of inferior design." With its separate chassis and live rear axle, the Compagno was seen as a 1950s relic from an obscure manufacturer. Japan, they concluded, wouldn't be troubling our mighty domestic industry.

Autocar seemed to be somewhat lacking in foresight, for by the mid-1960s Japanese manufacturers were already making inroads into the British industry's traditional Commonwealth markets. As early as 1963 Nissan Cedric taxis were picking up passengers in Sydney, while the Toyota Landcruiser was beginning its domination of the African 4x4 scene.

Back in Britain the market would be comparatively import-free until the early 1970s. But if you were one of the minority of British motorists who in 1965 was prepared to consider an imported car, the Daihatsu offered a great deal of showroom appeal. It was certainly well finished, and although its engineering was firmly rooted in the 1950s its Italianate styling dated from 1961 (the Compagno has the appearance of a scaled-down six-cylinder cruiser). This effect was reinforced by the interior - the upholstery and door trims may have been in the finest PVC, but at least they covered the doors and the fake wood dashboard looked no worse than that of the Zephyr 6. Furthermore, no other 800cc car in Britain had such an equipment list. Tinted glass, white-wall tyres, fog and reversing lamps, reclining seats, wing mirrors, a cigarette lighter, a clock, a heater and even a radio all came as standard.

The only British small car that was better equipped was the Vanden Plas Princess 1100 and that cost over £100 more. The BMC 1100 was also one of the best-handling and most advanced small cars in the world. So how would the Compagno compare on the open road? I took the original press car for a spin.

The first piece of vital advice for any novice Compagno driver is not to have size 12 feet, with which the pedals become an interesting challenge. The second is not to be more than 5ft 7in tall, or else your nose will be parallel with the interior mirror. The final, and most important, tip is not to be overweight, which is reasonable in any circumstances but especially valid when driving a car designed for the Japanese urban motorist of the 1960s.

At 12ft 5in the Compagno is longer than a BMC 1100 and easily compares in size to the Viva HA and the 105E Anglia. But its 800cc engine has to work hard - just leaving the International Motors yard in West Bromwich (they're the current importers) needs a change into second gear.

Column shifts were unheard of on small British cars but they were universal on Japanese cars in the Compagno's class. Thus the change from second to third is particularly enjoyable - the gap between ratios is so great that the throttle has to be frantically gunned to maintain any sort of progress. Once 4th (top) gear is reached the Compagno can be better appreciated, even if its speedo is about as accurate as a CityRover brochure (RIP).

The heater unit, slung under the dashboard, produces vast quantities of heat once the "water valve" is finely tuned. And who needs air conditioning when two trap doors above the parcel shelf direct gales of fresh air at the occupants' kneecaps? Speeding around tight corners the Compagno is even more entertaining, and a crowd of West Bromwich's finest Year 11's applauded our progress through an industrial estate. Driving on major roads, though, presents more of a challenge.

Built in 1964, CGH 8B predates the introduction of mandatory amber indicators. All Compagno drivers are therefore strongly advised to drive with the window down in order to make Highway Code-approved hand signals. They are also reminded to ignore hand signals from pedestrians.

Like the BMW 700, which was probably its closest European contemporary, the Compagno is best seen as a town car. The thought of regularly using one on the M1 is the stuff of nightmares, but fitted with a larger engine and a floor gear change it may well have appealed to its intended UK market of affluent housewives who craved a car fitted with white-wall tyres.

As it was, the Compagno was the only model imported into Britain and it proved to be just too expensive and unorthodox. But soon other cars arrived that convinced the domestic motorist of the potential of the Japanese motor industry - not least the Honda S800 Sports of 1967. But Daihatsu only began regular sales to the UK in 1979 with the three-cylinder Charade. The Compagno itself was discontinued in 1968, a year after Daihatsu's partial takeover by Toyota.

Today CHB 8B remains in the care of International Motors and the company's head of PR Arthur Fairley isenthused by the new Sirion. Parking the first British-market Daihatsu alongside the latest reminds you that cars have grown taller, wider and faster, but the Compagno retains an indefinable appeal. Any car that had such minute and useless fog lamps as standard must deserve our respect.