The term Metropolitan is an adjective meaning, “Of, relating to, or characteristic of a metropolis.” It was also a term used to label those who had the sophistication, fashionable tastes and manners associated with a metropolis. That is until Nash Motors, in 1953, came out with a stylish, diminutive, grocery-getter dubbed the Metropolitan.
The little Nash moved the meaning of the word from the city, where there was ample public transportation, to the suburbs. The car was actually a small part of a big movement to deal with the new post World War II reality for women. No one from the big city gets called a “Metropolitan” anymore, and vintage car buffs will forever-more assume you are talking about Nash’s first, second car for families when you use the term.
I spotted Chris Di Tommaso’s 1956 Nash Metropolitan in the Women & Wheels section at the colossal 3500-entry Cruisin’ For A Cure show in Costa Mesa, California recently… and it stopped me in my tracks. It is restored to show quality, and there it stood out even among the plethora of big ground-pounding muscle cars and metal-flaked hot rods surrounding it.
Ms. Di Tommaso was not present at that moment, so I scribbled down her number in order to later inquire as to whether we could take it for a test drive. As luck would have it, she was happy for a chance to show off the Metro she had been restoring for the last five years.
She explained that back in 2017 she just happened to see the little Nash advertised on eBay and thought it was charming, so she contemplated putting in a bid, but she contemplated a bit too long and it soon sold. But then a few days later the winning bidder’s deal fell apart, so the car was put up for auction again. And by this time Chris was in love with the nano-Nash, so she got into a bidding war over it and paid too much — or so she said. But she did get the car, and now, after a lot of toil and effort, it is worth many times what it set her back initially.
After buying it and getting it home, getting it running was the next challenge. It had been sitting in a carport for years — fortunately in a semi-arid climate — so rust wasn’t a major problem, but neglect and vandalism had taken their toll on the Lilliputian machine. The fuel in its tank had long ago evaporated and its gas cap was missing. Later, she discovered the hard way that someone had actually tossed cigarette butts into the tank too. That sounds crazy, but she has the evidence to prove it.
When we arrived for the shoot, she pulled the little Nash out into the sunshine and it was as dazzling as a sunny spring day. In fact, she even named the car “Sunny Day”, she says. It brought instant smiles to our faces. It looked as if an early ’50s Nash had given birth to a puppy. As Di Tommaso said, “All it needs is clowns climbing out of it.” I must say it is incredibly cute – and that is a word I use sparingly.
To do our shoot and test drive, Chris drove the little Metro to a suitable area, with us in tow in my 1955 Chevrolet Beauville station wagon. I brought the old Bowtie along so we could do a size comparison. Though the Metro is smaller than a VW Beetle, it is not a microcar, and may have been the first subcompact, before there was even a compact to sub.
Chris’ Metro looks unmistakably like a miniature American Nash, but it is actually as British as tea and crumpets. That’s because, though it was a car built for the American and Canadian markets, and designed by Nash Motors specifically for U.S. customers, it was constructed entirely in Britain, using Austin running gear and locally sourced parts.
The instrument panel contains but one instrument – a speedometer – with idiot lights for oil pressure and charging. And as was typical of many low priced British cars of the era, there is no temperature gauge! However, Di Tommaso loves to drive her Metro, so she wisely added an after-market gauge in order to be able to respond to cooling problems before they become critical. I happen to own a 1967 Morris Minor, and I did the same thing for the same reason.
I turn the key and pull the starter knob adjacent to it. That is sooo British, as is the lack of a door on the glove compartment, for example; as are the drum brakes with two wheel cylinders at each wheel, and the Lucas electrics with everything going through the voltage regulator, and only two fuses under the hood.
As for driving impressions, the little 1500-cc Austin B-series, four-cylinder overhead valve engine comes to life on the first turn, and rapidly settles into a smooth, faintly ticking idle. The foot pedals are ample size and nicely spaced, unlike in many European cars, and the driver’s position is comfortable, with everything in easy reach. I pull the column-mounted three-speed stick shift into low, ease down on the throttle and we are off.
Acceleration is surprising, but not unexpected when you realize that this is the same basic engine they used in MGs into the 1970s. Also, this little Metro has a top-end north of 70 mph, so it is fine even on Southern California freeways. The transmission is an Austin four-speed with first gear blocked off and linkage added to provide column shift. The Metro would probably be a bit more exciting with the four-speed and a well matched differential ratio, but it was configured thus because it was built for the U.S.A. where drivers where used to column shift and three-speed transmissions.
The Metropolitan also has a front bench seat rather than buckets, which is another concession to American tastes at that time, and was ostensibly ordered by Nash to accommodate three people, though that claim borders on preposterous. Two can ride in a Metro in comfort, but three abreast is more than intimate. In fact, in my college days, three of us — all big six footers — climbed into a Metro to go a short distance, and I had to hold the door against my hip because I could not close it.
There is also the suggestion of a back seat that would be adequate for a couple of youngsters and perhaps a package or two. And there is an external continental spare on the rear to allow more cargo space. But there is no trunk lid. However, you can reach the boot by unlocking the backrest of the rear seat and folding it down. It is somewhat inconvenient, but it does provide a safe place to stash cameras, purses and other valuables, because in order for a thief to get into the trunk, you would have to break into the car first. That would pose no problem that a box knife couldn’t cure with the convertible, but it could slow down a drunk considerably with Chris’s hardtop.
The Metropolitan’s turning radius is generous due to its skirted front fenders, which were a Pinin Farina styling innovation typical of Nash products of the ’40s and early ’50s. There is a fair bit of lean in the corners due to the car’s narrow track and upright stance, but the ride is comfortable and cushy. Altogether, the acceleration, convenient handling and fuel economy, as well as styling, are pretty much spot on when you consider that the car was designed primarily to appeal to post-war, liberated ladies.
After the GIs got home from World War II, they moved into vast suburban mass- produced, nearly identical housing tracts, but they also wanted to live a little, and the big-three automakers obliged them. Cars got bigger, longer, lower, faster and flashier as the 1950s went on. It was also the height of the Baby Boom, and station wagons and family cars became the norm. However, the women who had worked in the factories while the guys were away stamping out tyranny wanted to keep the freedom and economic power they had achieved back home, and to do that, they needed transportation.
C.E.O. George W. Mason at Nash Kelvinator had surmised this situation and its remedy earlier than the other manufacturers, and conceived of a car primarily for wives to use while hubbies drove the family car to work. Mason deduced that it needed to be stylish, small, economical and easy to drive and park. To that end, he commissioned a concept car dubbed the NXI (Nash Experimental International) that was penned by independent Detroit designer William J. Flajole for Nash .
From there, Mason got his engineers and stylists going on a prototype that was designated the NKI for Nash-Kelvinator International. It proved popular wherever it was exhibited, however, not long after it went into production it was renamed the Metropolitan, because it was primarily intended for around town use even though it got relocated to the suburbs shortly thereafter along with the new post-war families who bought them.
The original NKI prototype used Fiat Bambino running gear, however the Fiat engine proved to be too asthmatic. And then as it happened, the recently bludgeoned British were desperate for dollars, and it was determined that they could build the new car much more economically using existing British components than we could do it in the States. So a deal was worked out with the Austin Motor Company for the mechanicals, and nearby Fisher & Ludlow for body stampings, to produce the Metropolitan entirely in Birmingham, England, for the U.S. and Canadian market.
The Metropolitan debuted as the TKTK in 1953 with a 1200-cc Austin A-series engine and driveline and unitized body that had been designed by Nash Kelvinator in the States. It was intended to be as user-friendly and familiar as possible for American buyers, and cheap enough to be affordable for families who needed a second car. It was more economical than the VW Beetle at 36 miles to the gallon, while the Beetle only got 26 mpg because it had to run rich to avoid over-heating.
The first ads for the marque featured Evelyn Ay Sempier, who was Miss America in 1954, and the new Metropolitan was advertised heavily in “Women’s Wear Daily.” The Metro was not clumsily targeting women as was the 1955-’56 Dodge La Femme, but its advertising headed in that direction. The Met was billed as “America’s entirely new car” in 1955, and “Luxury in Miniature” in 1959. And then, in 1960, AMC stated that the Metropolitan was “Crafted for personal transportation.”
The little Anglo-American runabout sold well for the eight years that it was in production. The two models included a hard top and a convertible, and they both came equipped with factory-installed features that many carmakers of the era did not yet offer. These included turn indicators, a map light, electric windshield wipers, a cigar lighter, and Bedford cord and leather upholstery. An AM radio and Nash Weather Eye heater were listed as extras, but were installed at the factory in every car. White wall tires were a real extra cost option.
The initial sales price for the Metropolitan hardtop was $1,470, while a Volkswagen Type I would have set you back $1,495 and a new, entry-level Ford Mainline would cost $1,717. The Metropolitan was easier and less expensive to work on and maintain than the others too.
In May 1954, Nash Kelvinator announced that it was merging with Hudson to form the American Motors Corporation, also dubbed AMC, in order to better stand up to the big three (General Motors, Ford, and Chrysler). One outcome of this was — following the merger in August of that year — Metropolitans were also offered by Hudson dealers, and had Hudson badging, and hubcaps with the new M logo.
Chris Di Tommaso’s 1956 Metropolitan is a Series III that began production in November of 1955 and features the 1,489-cc Austin B series engine also used in the Austin A50 Cambridge. These new models were referred to as 1500s to emphasize the more powerful engine. The new series also featured stainless Z-shaped side spears that divided the little car horizontally, making it look a bit longer and lower.
Most of the models had two-tone paintwork that also helped alleviate the car’s stubby countenance. The new color combinations were bright and cheerful, and consisted of Caribbean Green, Sunburst Yellow (as was used on Di Tommaso’s Metro) plus Coral Red, and Snowberry white as the accenting hue.
The grille was also redesigned, and the ornamental hood scoop was eliminated. The interior was changed to a houndstooth fabric with white vinyl accenting. Also the dashboard was painted generic black instead of matching the previous body color as with earlier models.
So was the Metropolitan a success? Well, when you consider that it was designed for a niche market, it did very well because 104,000 of them were sold in the United States, and another 9,000 were sold overseas, primarily in Canada, the U.K., and New Zealand. However, it was never marketed in Australia. Austin came out well building the Metro too, making $35 million in the first five years, with tooling costs of a mere $800,000. This helped put the British auto industry back on its feet, at least temporarily.
So what killed the Metropolitan? Mainly the competition, everything from AMC itself with their revived Rambler, to the new compacts from the Big Three including the Falcon, Corvair, and Plymouth Valiant. A host of imports also came into the U.S. in the late ’50s, including those from Renault, Simca, and Fiat, that appealed roughly to the same market, and the list goes on. It could be said that in the end, the Metropolitan was not only a commercial success, but it ushered in a new era of practical and economical transportation.
As we drove back through town, there was no way my ‘55 Chevrolet that was the Metro’s contemporary could stay with Chris as her little car danced through traffic. The Bow Tie is big and comfortable, but the word “nimble” would not spring to your lips when driving it. Test driving the Metropolitan was a delight, and told me once again that big, fast, and expensive aren’t necessarily more fun than small, agile and cute. People gave Chris the thumbs up as she goes by, and step out to take pictures with their phones.
If you too have a hankering for a Metropolitan, don’t despair. There are still quite a few of them around, they are not out of sight to purchase, and they are very dependable and long lived. They also gave new meaning to the word Metropolitan.
The club for the marque is quite active, and members can help you find your dream car and keep it in good nick. Also, there is a parts house in North Hollywood called the Metropolitan Pit Stop that has most everything you need to restore or maintain one. A Sunny Day could be in your future too.
Overview | ||
Manufacturer | BMC for Nash and AMC | |
Also called | Hudson Metropolitan, Metropolitan by American Motors In non-U.S. & Canadian markets: Austin Metropolitan | |
Production | 1953–1961 | |
Assembly | Longbridge, Birmingham, West Midlands, England | |
Designer | William J. Flajole | |
Body and chassis | ||
Class | Economy car Subcompact | |
Body style | 2-door hardtop 2-door convertible | |
Layout | FR layout | |
Powertrain | ||
Engine | 1,200 cc (1.2 L) Austin A40 I4 1,500 cc (1.5 L) B-Series I4 | |
Transmission | 3-speed manual | |
Dimensions | ||
Wheelbase | 85 in (2,159 mm) | |
Length | 149.5 in (3,797 mm) | |
Width | 61.5 in (1,562 mm) | |
Height | 54.5 in (1,384 mm) | |
Curb weight | 1,785 lb (810 kg) (base) |