BEING a motoring journalist in the 1970s offered the chance to drive some cars that became legends, and some that aspired to be but were left in a cloud of dust.

One of the latter was the Austin Maxi, the very first British five-speed hatchback.

With such attributes the car offered the opportunity to take the formidable Ford Cortina and Vauxhall Victor to the cleaners, but it was hampered by a list factors that put the brakes on what was a very promising vehicle.

It was one down in the range from the ugly 1800model which was nicknamed ‘Landcrab', and tome the first mistake was to give the Maxi the doors from the 1800 which were sound enough but made the car look like a smaller version of big brother.

Then there was the name. With the involvement of Sir Alec Issigonis of Mini fame I suppose it was logical to call the car Maxi, especially because of its cavernous load carrying capability and lots of room for passengers.

But the name just did not hit the spot that can ensure a car's fame for posterity.

I remember on the car's launch a disgruntled, previously loyal, Austin customer who had revelled in the delights of the Cambridge, bustling out of the dealer's premises and stating. ‘Why would I want to buy a car with a name like that. It sounds like taxi and looks like one too.' He then trudged off to the Ford showroom.

For me the car's biggest drawback was the gearchange.To be fairit was the first five-speed hatch but the cable operated system was sloppy even when new. When about six or seven years old with 60,000 or so miles on the clock gear selection was a very hit and miss affair.

And the steering was overly heavy which did not add to driving pleasure.

But the whole car could be turned into a double bed by folding down the seats and on the car's dealer launch I remember a few nudge-nudge wink-wink references from sharp-suited salesmen to business customers.

In the pipeline from 1965, the Maxi was originally to have been a notchbacked Morris Marina spin-off called the Austin 1500,all thiswas soon dropped and a new car was penned.

Launched in Oporto, Portugal, on 24 April 1969 it generated a blaze of publicity, being one of the first cars to appear on the BBC's new car programme Wheelbase, the forerunner of Top Gear.

It followed the pattern set by the Renault 16 hatch which was becoming very popular in the UK. But the gearchange caused much criticism in media reports and was changed in later versions to rod-operated linkage.

Power came from either a 1,485cc and later 1,748cc four-cylinder petrol engine and was an uninspiring experience until the arrival of twin-carb offerings. The best one was the Downton-tuned version.

Build quality was mediocre but not as bad as the Morris Marina.

The Maxi drove into the history books in 1981 after 471,098 cars had been produced. It had hung on to a brand loyalty that had beennurtured from great cars like the Farina-designed Cambridge, but that soon started to ebb away.

By then the rot had started to set in for what was then British Leyland, leading to the demise of the wholly British car industry.

Maxi was a lesson in how to turn a promising design on paper into a mish-mash of features - some good and some bad - that lacked individuality, build-quality and the special something that could have made this car so special.

Surprisingly there are still a few about and one recently whooshed past me on a roundabout in North Wales, evoking smiles and fond memories of 1970s motoring journalism.