Unmellow yellow Hillman Imp for sale

The brilliantly named Imp typified '60s-era Britain - ambitious, ingenious, thwarted

By PH Staff / Wednesday, 17 September 2025 / Loading comments

Some things are just not meant to be. Probably the Hillman Imp was unlucky to follow in the wake of the Mini, an instant design icon that snapped into place like Paul McCartney’s haircut - but it was also hindered by a failure to pay sufficient attention to bothersome details, like build quality. Had it been developed properly, it might’ve been the making of its manufacturer, the oft-forgotten Rootes Group. It certainly did not lack for innovation.

While BMC was busy cramming transverse engines and gearboxes into the Mini's front end, the Rootes Group took a more continental approach with the Imp, mounting its pioneering aluminium Coventry Climax-derived engine in the rear. The result was a genuinely different proposition - a car that offered better weight distribution, a more accommodating engine bay, and arguably more sophisticated engineering than its more famous rival.

This extended to the chassis, which boasted swing axles at the front and semi-trailing arms at the rear for better balanced handling. While its short-stroke, 875cc four-pot is definitely not over-endowed with power (it was engineered chiefly with fuel shortages in mind), it can be expected to rev cleanly and happily to 7,000rpm, and has not much more than 700kg to push against. Much like the Mini, the Imp replaces straight-line speed with nimbleness and buzzy verve.

This one, as you can see, doubles down on the concept. The vendor does not dwell on which of its 14 (count ‘em) previous owners took the time to transform the car into something decidedly less humble, but the canary yellow paint job works a treat. As do the black Minilite-style wheels, which fill the arches suspiciously well. The bumpers have clearly been replaced, too, although none of the embellishments ruin the Imp’s character - or its inherent appeal.

The interior goes one step further by colour-coding the dashboard - another welcome choice when you consider how spartan the original model was, especially in the later years when additional cost was being stripped from the Imp like bark from a deer-ravaged sapling. The car’s failure to appeal to buyers on the same scale as the Mini, a situation unaided by its reputation for mechanical fragility, eventually forced Rootes to submit to a takeover by Chrysler. It was renamed accordingly in 1970.

Unlike many of its stablemates, the Imp soldiered on until 1976 - a testament of sorts to the soundness of the basic idea that compact, cost-effective, and cheap-to-run cars appealed to UK customers. Half a century later, its underlying charisma is much easier to make out: who now would deny the allure of a rear-engined, revvy Hillman, no heavier than a gnat’s shopping? Rot and neglect have seen to most of them, making the Imp considerably rarer than a Mini, and cheaper to buy, too. Something to think about if you’re hunting for a quirky, usable classic.

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