It was in June of 1982 that I attended the Thames Valley Police training centre at Sulhamstead, near to Reading in Berkshire, for my Intermediate driving course. I had applied to join what was then called the Traffic Patrol Division, and having passed an interview board, and been recommended as suitable material by my supervisors, getting through the intermediate driving course was the last hurdle.

If successful, and after about a year of being mentored by a more experienced colleague, the procedure was to attend what was then referred to as a Home Office approved police driving school, to be classified (hopefully) as a Police Class-One Advanced Driver.

After the course induction process, and then being introduced to my course instructor, as well as identifying who my two in car fellow trainees would be (there were three students to a car and more than one car running per course), we were taken for a demonstration drive.

The First Experience of the Rover SD1 3,500 V8

The training vehicle was a dark brown Rover SD1 3,500 5–speed manual, registration number VWL1R, and had started its own police career as the Chief Constable’s staff car. This was a regular process, as when the Chief’s car was due for change it would be passed to the force driving school and he would get a new one. I hoped this one had been in a better state when he had it, as from what I recall, it was falling to bits. There was rust everywhere with big areas of paint blistering and bubbling. Everything about it was soggy and saggy too, and it had obviously seen far better days.

Part of the demo route was the M4 motorway, which ran nearby, and as the car built up speed down the motorway slip road I became aware of certain disturbing noises, as if air was being sucked through gaps somewhere. I was seated in the rear off-side passenger seat, and by the time we were in the upper side of 100mph, I could actually see sky appearing between the top of the driver’s door frame and the roof. At its worst point you could have put your fingers through, the gap was that big!

This was my first introduction to a Rover SD1, and as you can imagine, it was hardly impressive. I spent the first week of my three week driver training in this car, but half way though week–2, the Brown Rover was retired in favour of later model.

The replacement was another SD1 V8, but this time the colour of a plate of mushy peas, and again it was the Chief’s cast off. However, not long after the mushy pea arrived it started playing up really badly. The rear screen washer supply kept leaking into the boot space, and there were intermittent electrical gremlins all over. As well as other strange goings on there was always a strange smell in that car. A visit to the workshops revealed that a mouse had made a home by building its nest behind the dash panel and had been feeding on a diet of cable insulation, and a fluid intake obtained from nibbling through the washer supply line. By this time my crew had moved onto the MkII Ford Granada 2.8i, and so never got to know the green Rover.

After successfully passing the course, and a few weeks later, I joined Traffic Division at the Aylesbury base. At that time Aylesbury had no motorway responsibility, other than to fill gaps unable to be covered by the regular crews from Amersham, but it wasn’t long before that changed. It was political of course, as these things nearly always are, but in order to do the motorway job is was decided that Aylesbury should exchange two of the Ford Granada’s on the fleet for two Rover V8’s at two other traffic bases.

Now it Was Time to Drive The SD1 on Active Traffic Patrol

These were to become the dedicated motorway patrol cars, and if I thought that old flying turd from my Intermediate driving course was awful, the experience of using a SD1 as an operational vehicle was both of those things – awful and an experience. Altogether horrible, in fact.

If anyone tries to suggest to you that traffic cops liked the SD1 Rover, just tell them they are talking from their bottom. Those cars, in automotive terms, were the devil reincarnated. They were uncomfortable, unreliable, smelly, not particularly fast, noisy (road and wind noise, not engine noise so much), and had poor handling ability. They were forever falling apart. When you patrolled in one of these things, not only was it always eventful, but you learned to carry a small tool kit with you everywhere you went.

Door trims would fall off when you opened the door, tailgates would suddenly fly fully open when you reached 100mph, internal door handles would break off in your hand, there were bonnets that would not stay closed, brakes that hardly worked, and a host of other moments that brought sometimes alarm and sometimes nervous excitement. With one of the cars, if you opened and closed the glove compartment whilst the car was moving, this would activate the four–way flashers, and another locked the crew inside so they had to climb out through the rear passenger door window to escape.

I recall being plunged into complete darkness one night, as all the lighting equipment died. Stopping in a farm gateway, and after dismantling the steering column cowling, it was found that two halves of a nylon connector block, as part of the wiring from the switch, had parted and upon pushing them together, again we had light.

During a Police Chase The Steering Column Broke Away

I was with a colleague who was in pursuit of another car when the steering column adjustment clamp of our car broke, which meant it was no longer fixed, and therefore moving up and down freely as he tried to turn corners. Another occasion the gear lever seized as if suddenly set in fast curing concrete and thereafter refused to budge. If you did a fast run in a SD1, when you stopped there was always a sickly stench of gear oil, but never a sign of a leak. If I really thought about it I could probably fill a whole page with a catalogue of similar incidents, but for now, I think I have made my point.

There was no power assisted steering either, and when going into High Wycombe police station yard, as an example, and a place not big enough to swing a hedgehog (let alone a cat), you needed the arms and shoulders of Charles Atlas to turn the thing around. When patrolling through towns, you knew you had got hold of the thing, as it was clumsy and awkward, but it wasn’t quite so bad out on the open road. They were not particularly fast either, maxing out at around 120mph (with a favourable wind), and drinking fuel like you wouldn’t believe. Not a very efficient car at all, as that V8 engine only produced 180bhp, which was really quite poor.

To Drive Around Bends in a Rover SD1 Was Quite Eventful

For cornering the SD1 behaved as if the chassis was attached to the body with elastic luggage straps, as when you turned the steering wheel it seemed you could feel the four wheels begin to follow the bend, and then the body after a 1 – 2 second delay. The back end used to do a squirmy thing as well, sort of bouncing up and down, but at the same time osculating round and round. These cornering characteristics could be quite alarming, but if you ignored it, and just kept looking at were you wanted the car to go, it did actually go there. You just had to hang on to it and be taken for the ride.

Towards the end of the production run, Rover introduced an updated version of the SDI, which they badged with a name from the old Triumph range, the Vitesse and the 3,500 EFi. These were sportier versions of the SE that we were used to, and now had fuel injection, which increased the power output to 195bhp. It is true they were faster, but you still couldn’t stop the things, just like the older ones. The Thames Valley Force had ditched the SD1 by this time and so didn’t take on the Vitesse or the EFi.

By contrast the MkII Ford Granada’s on the fleet hardly gave any trouble, but just got on with it and did their job. The Rover, however, was a heap of junk parts thrown together to resemble a car, after which it spent the rest of its life disassembling itself. But, we should not forget that it was a car that won a design award for safety and was also the very first to have integral rear fog lamps fitted – even before the legal requirement was made for such equipment to be fitted. One thing I will say in their favour, is these cars actually looked the part. Shame the rest of it wasn’t built to match.

The Brakes of The Rover SD1 Didn’t Work Very Well

Actually, to ‘look the part’ was one of the car’s main problems, as part of its looks caused an issue with the brakes.

Around the front end there was a large air dam, and at either the end of that was a fog lamp. Those lamps were fitted into ducts that were designed to channel air so as to keep the front brakes cool, as the back side of the holes were aimed right at the brake discs. It was explained to me during my later attendance at an advanced vehicle examiners course, and by a trainer from Lockheed Girling who had been invited along to teach us vehicle examiners about the more technical aspects of vehicle braking systems. He said that he had been telling police forces all over the country how the presence of the fog lights within the air ducts was causing the brakes to deteriorate, as those nicely arranged rectangular holes where actually there for good reason.

If ever you wanted proof that he knew what he was talking about, one of the crews, whilst patrolling the M40 at night, hit a suicidal fox as it went for a moonlight walk in the carriageway. The resulting impact took the front air dam clean off the Rover, and because there was a shortage of cars that were actually serviceable at the time, the instruction was to carry on using it until it could be afforded some down-time for repair.

It was incredible. Without the spoiler around the front, not only did the brakes work properly, but the car no longer jumped from one motorway lane to another in a cross–breeze (notice the avoidance of saying cross–wind). However, once the thing was repaired, we were back to the old symptoms all over again.

Over all the years as being part of the fleet the SD1’s never improved, and by the time the last one was decommissioned, the only thing left of them of any consequence was the comical tales that were told of individual adventures all had shared with them in one form or another. That was one mule of a motorcar and life was so dull and reliable without it.

Police Forces Loved the Rover SD1 (Apparently)

If you perform a Google search you will find reference on more than one website to the effect that several police forces, at the time the SD1 was axed by British Leyland, bought up large stocks of the cars because they apparently loved them so much.

This is absolute rubbish! The real truth of the matter is that by the end of SD1 production, BL couldn’t hardly give them away, which is why they stopped making them. Cash–strapped underfunded police forces, in a bid to take advantage of such a good opportunity, only snapped them up because they could get more cars for their meagre budget. Why else would the police take them on, as they were not cheap cars to run? There were far more fuel efficient vehicles available, but a throw out batch of SD1’s at virtually no purchase cost would financially offset the expensive running costs. Don’t forget these cars would cover around 120,000 miles in their life, and at between 14 – 20mpg, that was a lot of petrol being bought.

When The Rover SD1 Was Launched There Was Much Excitement

When the Rover SD1, which stands for Special Development 1, was launched on the public market in 1976 the car caused quite a stir, as certainly it was very different to anything that had been seen before. Still using the tried and trusted ex–Buick aluminium 3.5–litre V8 power unit, as carried over from the P4 and P5, the car initially sold very well. It even won the prestigious Car of the Year Award of 1977, and was the first British Leyland car that was more in demand than the production line could keep up with.

However, like all British Leyland products of the time, the SD1 suffered from poor back up services, poor build quality, bad reliability and it wasn’t long before the sparkle of the initial excitement began to tarnish. Cars were even being delivered incomplete, due to the shortage of components. The motoring press jumped on the band wagon and exploited every opportunity to slate it wherever possible, and frankly BL gave them plenty of ammunition. By the time the model was axed in 1986 everyone had moved on and very few wanted the car.

The demise of the SD1 wasn’t to be the end of Rover’s being used as a police patrol cars, as in 1992 there arrived at the base something else bearing a Rover badge, a cherry red Rover 827i saloon. This had come to replace a retiring MkII Ford Granada 2.8i, also an unmarked patrol car.

Two things I will say about the 827 straight away, and one being it was a totally different kettle of fish altogether as compared to the previous offerings from Rover. The other thing is really best put as a question. Why the heck couldn’t they have made this car with rear wheel drive? What a phenomenal machine that would have been.

The Rover 800 Was Really a Honda

The Rover 800–series, of course, was really a Honda, which explained why everything actually worked. The V6 transverse unit under the bonnet was free–revving, extremely torquey and offered incredible performance from what really was a big car. The 5–speed manual gearbox was an absolute delight, with short travel between gates, being light and easy to operate, it had ratios that were perfectly spaced. The driving position put you on the car, rather than being swallowed in it (a la SD1), and with large and low glass areas, all round visibility was as good as every you could expect.

The only big downside to this vehicle concerns why I asked the earlier question about the drive configuration, as when kitted up with all the stuff in the boot (cones, signs and other emergency stuff) it suffered dreadfully from traction problems. On a typical drizzly autumn day, on a damp urban road surface in particular, it was something of an achievement to be able to pull away from the traffic lights without inducing wheel spin. This made it somewhat awkward to use, but otherwise it was quite a pleasure to drive.

Big cars shouldn’t have front wheel drive anyway, as with the length of this thing, it just don’t drive completely right. Put the 827 into a bend at very high speed and you never felt the rear end knew exactly what it was supposed to be doing, where as a rear wheel drive, as with the Vauxhall Senators, the back would just squat down and dig in. Yes, the 827 would have been a phenomenal car to drive in RWD form, of that I am sure.

The Front Wheel Drive Was The Main Drawback With The Rover 827

Other traffic bases had these as marked patrol cars, but in fastback form, or to call it by another name, the hatchback body version. They were not completely suitable for the job, and the front wheel drive with associated wheel spin on takeoff was a problem. There were issues concerning the fitment of police radios too, as the electronics involved conflicted with that of the car, causing all sorts of technical nightmares.

The 827 served in small numbers, through to the MkII, but with the whole fleet then going over to Vauxhall, the 827 eventually disappeared.

From the point of virtually having a national monopoly on the police vehicle market, British Leyland, and the later Rover Group, completely lost out in the end, just as they did with sales to the public. Whilst many a traffic bobby from that era will swing the old Tilley lamp, telling tales of the good old days when men were men and SD1’s were complete rubbish, it is perhaps best we remember the police Rover as something that could really have been great, had it been built by another company.

If you enjoyed this piece about the Rover SD1, and you would like to learn more about the history of the car, take a look at this website