Vintage Thing No.22.4 - yet another other Siva Llama

I've just been talking to the owner of yet another Siva Llama. Chris Griffin has owned his car from new. It's his only car and the mileage is just coming up to 27,000 miles. He works on a farm and only has to travel about half a mile to work, which he usually cycles. He's regularly covered the chassis in old engine oil and the only things that have rusted so far are the steel brake pipes outboard of the flexible hoses at the rear. Apart from two or three water pump seals and the occasional throttle cable, Chris's car is just as it left the Aylesbury factory.

I asked him what attracted him to the Llama in the first place and he said that he was looking for something reliable, fun, adaptable, rustproof and that looked a bit different. He first came across the Siva Llama when it was advertised in one of the farming magazines, probably Farmer's Weekly. He visited the Siva factory in Aylesbury with his father in the summer of 1974 and saw a number of cars under construction, including some of the more exotic VW-based Sivas. These would probably have been Siva Salukis. He reckons as many as 8 people worked there at the time.

Chris and his dad were shown all round the factory and Chris's father expressed concern about the front mounted fuel tank in an accident. "Was there a fire risk with the glass fibre bodywork?" he wondered. Their guide said that there was no fire risk and proceeded to demonstrate this by playing an oxyacetylene welding torch on a scrap body moulding. Despite the full force of the flame, all the glass fibre did was blister and it certainly didn't burst into flame.

Reassured on this point, they also asked about the battery position. This is still a constant source of amusement to all Siva owners because to get the battery out you have to jack the car up and take off the near side rear wheel, which then allows you to take off a further panel within the rear wheel arch before you can get at the battery. The access panel on the inside of the body allows you to reach its terminals but to actually remove it you have to "get down and get under". The response from their guide was that in export markets, such as Spain or Portugal, local drivers liked to fiddle with their batteries and this design had been adopted deliberately to stop them from doing this.

Although they didn't really believe this, Chris still liked the Siva Llama. The lack of foot space around the pedals was the only other awkward thing about the car but it didn't stop him ordering one. There were two options - either build the car yourself or take delivery through an agent of a finished car and Chris chose the latter route for simplicity's sake.

This was of particular interest to me because all the information on Llamas that I had seen suggested that they had only ever been available as a kit. When I entered mine in the classic trials run by the Motor Cycling Club, I was running in Class 7 with the big engined Beetles. I had hoped to be included in Class 4, which was for rear-engined cars up to 1300cc. When I queried this, the scrutineers said that they had made a concession to me by including me in Class 7, for, if the rules were applied as intended, my Llama would have been included with the red spot Class 8 specials, which included rear-engined kit cars like beach buggies.

Although it is unlikely that I will ever use my Llama again in classic trials, Chris said he would get something in writing to me about his car being fully built by the factory. He might even be able to get something from the agent that supplied his car from new. This was Station Garage, Rudgwick, West Sussex, run by Tony Thorpe, and Chris still gets his car MOTed by the same firm although the garage has long since moved out of Rudgwick. Because he was buying the car fully assembled, he had to use an agent as an intermediary but this was no problem, as the local village garage could easily oblige. This was quite a common practice in rural areas. I can remember the faded sign writing on garage walls in my father's home village of Plaistow in West Sussex saying that any make of car could be supplied new.

There was a small delay to delivery and Chris finally took delivery in November 1974. True to his word, Chris sent me a copy of the original invoice. Including 12 months car tax at ₤25 (₤25!), ₤3 for numberplates and ₤96 for Car Tax and ₤97 for VAT, Chris’ car cost him ₤1,339.

Now, in one of those spooky coincidences that feature in real life, on the way back from looking at my Llama when I bought it, I stopped off in Okehampton and bought a copy of World Cars for 1976 that listed the Llama for sale. Its price ex-works was then listed as ₤1,246. For Chris, this was ₤1,176 before a 5% discount. In 1976, the cost of a Hillman Imp was ₤1,587. An 850 Mini was ₤1,299 and a Skoda 110 saloon was ₤1,100.

This sort of cost made me suspect that Llamas were available fully built but, until now, I couldn't prove anything.

12 months car tax at ₤25, though!

Chris used his car mostly on the farm but in his younger days went much further afield, such as the Midlands, Wales and the New Forest. Some years, he barely did 300 miles and to provide an unbroken record of his mileage through old MOT certificates, he's returned to go the same garage that acted as agent when he bought the car. It only ever failed once in the rear brake pipes developed rust.

Back in the summer, Chris's car was used as wedding transport for his nephew's wedding. His Llama is in remarkably original condition and has lived up to his expectations for all the years since he bought it. Ground clearance can prove limited in some circumstances and, in sticky situations, the Llama is better going forward than backwards. The front end is so light that Chris and his brother used to be able to lift it up and turn the car around through 180° if ever they got bogged down. He found the rear wheels rub on the rear inner wheel arches on full bump and fitted some wheel spacers to get around this. These gave the added benefit of widening the rear track, which just like an Imp is slightly narrower than the front, with the result that it handles even better in boggy conditions.

I was intrigued by the colour because most surviving Llamas seem to be in this bright yellow. Chris said that it has lost some of its brilliance over the years but it still looks good to me. This is the original gel-coat finish. Mine has been re-sprayed and in worn areas a sand-coloured gel-coat is visible.

I asked him what its best feature was, and he said reliability. I think this is a testament to him looking after his car so well. And it's worst feature? "It doesn't like running when cold. Juggling the choke is a real art. Too much and it runs hesitantly but too little and it just dies."

I think an unbroken record of ownership over 34 years indicates a good deal of customer satisfaction for Chris from the Siva motor company.

On the day of the wedding it poured. The photo call with the happy couple and the Llama was completed the following day but despite the weather the bride arrived on time, tucked away under the Llama's hardtops. Chris removed the zip up door on one side so well-wishers could see her but it wasn't long before the bridal possession attracted the attention of the local police. A squad car pulled up alongside with an "'Ello, 'ello, 'ello? What's going on 'ere then?" expression on the crew's features but when they saw the wedding dress they just grinned and wished everyone well.

This car takes a total of known survivors up to 6, two of which are -- amazingly -- still with their original owners. And there may be even more yet to come to light through the power of the Internet!