The Hero Bicycle of Indian cars, the Hindustan Motors Limited Ambassador turns 50 this month. Although it was a clone of a British car, the Morris Oxford Series II, the car has a quintessentially Indian feel to it and neatly encapsulates much of post-Independence India in a single morsel.

Some of my fondest memories of India have to do with the back bench of an Ambassador, and I don’t mean like that. No, I mean 10 of us piled into my uncle’s car, driving around New Dehli, running errands on the eve of his wedding. A Maruti is too cold, too clinical, too generic a car to generate the warm fuzzy memories that an Ambassador can, and you simply cannot fit as many people into one.

… In a country where roadside mechanics abound, its simplicity is one reason why 20,000 Ambassadors are still sold each year. And it does possess an undeniable sense of dignity. Yes, the acceleration is so woeful that the speedometer may as well be replaced by a calendar before you reach the top speed of 90mph, and … the brakes prefer to be given notice in writing, but at least new Ambassadors now boast power-assisted steering, as the unassisted steering gives a turning circle of approximately 64ft.

In place of air conditioning there are triangular quarter lights on the front doors; the windows are still opened via rack and pinion handles; the gear change requires brute force rather than any finesse and the occupants (all five to 10 of them) are forced to sit very upright, for the Ambassador is certainly not a car to encourage a slovenly posture. [Link]

Unfortunately, the Ambassador is no longer the national car in one critical sense:

An Ambassador used to be the Prime Minister’s vehicle until 2002. The then Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee exchanged it for a BMW sedan (which has continued since). [Link]

Which is a shame because that is one seriously armored car. The strength of its shell saved my egg from being cracked once when our taxi was sideswiped by a bus, right where I was sitting. I was fine, the Amby was merely dented, but in any other car (short of a Volvo 2 door) I would have been in the hospital. You can soup it up to go pretty fast too. Such a shame - it would have been great to see the PM driving around in a souped up VIP Armored Amby, or even an Ambylimo .

With the arrival of the Maruti, Hindustan Motors saw their days as dominant player were numbered and they began to export:

… initially these went to far-flung enclaves such as The Seychelles, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Japan and Sri Lanka. It was also exported to Dubai to be used as a delivery vehicle, as they were the cheapest car available; in fact, the only cheaper transport available was a moped… [Link]

They also tried to sell the car back to the UK:

The Ambassador was supposed to appeal to nostalgic people and expatriate Indians who longed to drive their own piece of India. Despite optimistic sales forcasts, the reality was somewhat different. An average of just 6 Hindustan Ambassador GLXs per year were sold throughout the early-to-mid 1990s. The cars had a basic specification and the list price was low at £7,150, but its market was simply too tiny for exports to the UK to make any kind of financial sense. [Link]

This was the first of several valiant attempts to export the car to developed markets, including a version of the car that they heavily rebuilt in the UK, but it all went nowhere. Maybe they forgot to read their own press material:

Ambassador, the only automobile to ply Indian roads for more than five decades now, has carved a special niche for itself in the passenger car segment. It’s dependability, spaciousness and comfort factor have made it the most preferred car for generations of Indians. The Ambassador’s time-tested, tough, accommodating and practical characteristics make it a truly Indianised car. [Link]

Still, if you are in the UK, and you find you really must have one, you can get one from Merlin Garages who import the car now.

Amby Zindabad!

Related posts: All Hail the Amby