The Dillon Ocean Shipping Company was one of the businesses that managed to stay afloat during WWII, as there was no shortage in demand for logistics services during that time. However, Geoffrey Roderick Dillon had no love for plain logistics, but rather for cars.
As the country was brimming with production facilities that had been putting out military gear and were now no longer used as well as with engineers who were just as talented and experienced as they were unemployed, Dillon sensed an opportunity. In late 1945, he sold off the assets of his inherited business and founded Dillon Motors in Bramwick-upon-Lyne.
Dillon Motors was merely one among a plethora of upcoming car manufacturers in the still war-ravaged but bustling and optimistic Cowellia*, bubbling to the surface, often only to fade back into the murky depths of automotive oblivion a couple of years later. Would Dillon’s entrepreneurship and the ingenuity of his engineers prove enough for the company to persevere and carve the Dillon Name into the groundwork of the Cowellian car industry?
The lyre in the Dillon logo is Geoffrey’s tribute to his late wife Agnes Dillon, whom he had lost to pneumonia in the harsh winter of '44/'45. Although it wasn’t one of the several instruments Agnes played, to Geoffrey, who had a strong penchant for ancient Greek culture, it was a symbol of inspiration and thus a fitting means of making her spirit live on in his designs. Also, when tilted by 90 degrees, the lyre happens to form the letter “D”.
*Cowellia: Hypothetical Automationverse equivalent of Great Britain (which I totally didn’t make up as I went)
Note: Dillon Motors is a LC Brand, meaning that the cars will typically perform better and be cheaper to produce than sandbox cars due to tech pools, production plant parameters etc.
When the first car was being designed, the hastily rounded-up team had yet to mold together to form a homogenous creative and engineering force. The funding provided by the sale of the shipping company was enough to design a car and set up production without too much trouble, but waste could well prove fatal for the emerging company.
The first Dillon car, the C-05, was a simple design: Ease of production seeped through every panel gap, the rear fenders were welded onto the body to form what could be called “external wheel wells”. Boasting a 825cc inline three driving the rear wheels through a 3-speed slider type transmission, it was by no means an innovative design, but it was an affordable option that could serve as a 2-seat commuter as well as a poor man’s sports car.
General stats
Development sign-off
01/1946
Produced
01/1948 - 09/1953
Units sold (total)
247,888
Units cost (0% markup)
$ 4,727*
List price (65% markup)
$ 7,475*
Design
Construction
Steel body on steel ladder frame
Suspension
F: double wishbone R: live axle/coil springs
Drivetrain
3-speed manual, rear wheel drive
Wheelbase/Length
2.10m / 3.49m
Weight
670kg
Engine
Type
825cc 6V/ohv I3; single carb
Peak power
33hp@4,700rpm
Peak torque
66Nm@2,400rpm
Engine weight
80.8 kg
Performance
Power to weight ratio
49.5hp/t (20.2kg/hp)
0-100kph
27.2s
1/4 mile
22.95s@95kph
Vmax
118kph
Automation TT lap
Not tested**
*: Automationverse Dollars
**: Rumour has it that tests have been conducted, but the test driver lost patience about halfway down the Daffy Flyer straight, pulled over into the green and had himself a turkey sandwich and vacuum flask earl grey picnic.
Fruinia again (though this time around I imagine it to represent GB rather than France/Italy - the Fruinian car preferences fit the bill quite nicely, I think)
I started with 100M$, a good deal of tech, 1.0 competitiveness and 2.00 markup for an easy playthrough (not playing for score or challenge, just wanna build cars the way I want…). Score multiplier is still 1.00, though.
The makeshift nature of the C-05 (and the fact that Geoffrey Roderick Dillon himself didn’t like it a lot) soon compelled the engineers at Dillon Motors to commence work on a successor. The debut model was a successful car, earning back it’s development costs several times over, but as the competition came up with better designs, interest in the very bread-and-butter C-05 began to wane.
Well aware that an enjoyable, yet affordable car was needed if the company was to thrive, it was decided to design a skin tight driving machine that could wring the highest possible amount of driving excitement out of a modest power figure. The new car was not, however, a plain design like the C-05. G. R. Dillon’s enthusiasm spurred his engineers to construct a technologically advanced vehicle: A semi-monocoque (actually little more than a tub welded around the floor pan, but that was advanced at the time) with subframes mounting the engine and suspension components formed the basis, aluminium body panels completed the package. All-round independent suspension and an overhead cam engine did the rest to raise the audience’s eyebrows, especially considering the moderate price tag.
The 850cc inline four developed a lively 50hp that had an easy time chucking the 560kg featherweight about the landscape.
Not content with just a better lean-wallet sports car, Dillon ordered the development of a serious performance car in parallel to the Dart’s. With a prototype ready just in time for the famous Corbury Hillclimb event in 1953, Dillon landed the company’s first public appearance to garner widespread attention.
A privately entered Dillon Dart took 1st place in its category (under 1000cc unmodified), and even though the two Dillon entered Dagger prototypes did not fare quite as well, one of them came in a very respectable 6th. The second car dropped out due to a gearbox failure, but showed strong performance until then. More importantly though, the Dagger’s spectacular looks and the ferocious exhaust note - courtesy of the newly developed dohc inline six - made it a spectator’s favourite, lifting the company out of obscurity. The Dillon brand name was about to catch on.
On the road, the Dagger was a very different car from the Dart, not only in terms of performance; While similar in basic construction, its aluminium body panels were carefully sculpted whereas the Dart used simple shapes to keep man-hours down. The motoring journalist who famously cited the Dart’s panel gaps as a “weight saving measure” could by no means make the same claim about the dagger.
Its light weight allowed the Dagger to outpace even the more powerful Big Healeys on straights and in corners alike. The only gripe was the car’s price tag in conjunction with its very basic equipment.
The first two Dillons are proper sporting classics… Certainly the company ought to have a bright future ahead of it with such attractive exterior designs!
A mere decade after its inception, Dillon Motors has already established a reputation as a competent sports car manufacturer. Although G. R. Dillon never intended to cater to the mass market, he did realize that a certain company size would be vital in acquiring the financial capacity to conduct some serious R&D. Much of Dillon’s success came courtesy of its innovative engineering, and to really capitalize on that, some proper basic research was needed to push the state of the art even further. This, as G. R. Dillon was well aware of, would’t be possible in a backyard garage.
It was thus decided that Dillon needed to extend its lineup with a saloon, though one that would still unmistakably be a Dillon. The designers thought up a sleek and compact 2-door 5-seater with a sporty cab backward silhouette that would appeal to a young family head, enabling him to drop his children off in school on working days and to enjoy the occasional b-road escapade on the weekends.
When the Jackal was unveiled in 1966 as a successor to the still very popular Dart, it came to the audience as a bit of a surprise: While roughly similar in footprint, the exterior design was a radical departure from the friendly looks of the little roadster that the Cowellians had come to hold so dear. At first, the tiny 2-door saloon didn’t go down well with everyone, but it would soon find enough support once people got used to the new shape.
As of the Jackal’s performance there could, on the other hand, not be the slightest of doubts. Making use of some newfangled fibreglass wizardry and an all-new, all aluminium 1100cc inline four that was actually lighter than the Dart’s 850cc unit, the Dillon engineers managed to construct a car that was just 5 pounds heavier than the Dart, despite having a much roomier interior and a boot to speak of.
The sharply tuned four-banger delivered 80hp - quite outrageous for its size and day - which, combined with the low weight, zero-lift aerodynamics and telepathic handling made the new model an absolute riot to drive. In fact, it was able to achieve a pace on twisty b-roads that would give even the Dagger the hardest of times to keep up, and which would become the foundation for one of the biggest success stories in Dillon’s motor sport history.
By the mid-sixties, the Dillon Dagger was clearly showing its age. While the Dart was still doing great, customer expectations in the more upmarket segments were rising a good deal faster over time, especially regarding raw power and speed. The Dagger did receive some TLC over the years, with the Corbury Six having been gradually uprated to 2.0L and 130hp in the latest models. But this was simply no longer enough to play with the big boys.
While conceiving a successor, G. R. Dillon remembered the halo role that the Dagger had assumed in its hillclimb outings. This time around, however, the company had a lot more money to spend, and thus it was decided to design a sports car that would readily lend itself to GT racing.
The result was the Dillon Manticore: A low slung, intimidating machine with an aggressive stance and a menacingly snarling V8 fitted transversly in front of the rear transaxle. It was a blisteringly fast car with cornering ability to match, though the mid-mounted engine gave the tail end a nasty habit of suddenly heading off to where it wasn’t told to go at all.
Quite similarly to the Dagger, it fared reasonably well in racing, raking in a couple of victories, though it was easily outshone by its massively successful little brother. It was, however, one heck of a head turner, and while it would always be the little coupes that people considered to be Dillon’s face, the Manticore played a vital part in making them talk about the brand in the first place.
The Ocelot turned out to be a huge financial success, still showing splendid sales figures more than ten years after its launch, but even though it was still a more modern car than many a competitor, the styling was clearly outdated by 1970 and the model was about to outstay its welcome.
When designing the successor, Lynx by name, the engineers at Dillon made use of the solid R&D foundation the Ocelot had made possible: The carbureted SOHC I6 that would power the Lynx was of a similar layout as the Ocelot’s powerplant, but now made entirely of aluminium and featuring forged internals, allowing for a compact and lightweight, longstroke design that was 20 kg lighter despite roughly 35% more displacement.
The exterior continued the design language that the Jackal had by now established, and the Lynx was accordingly readily embraced by the audience when it was unveiled in May 1972. Since the Ocelot had been exported to Gasmea in significant numbers by independent dealers, Dillon grasped the opportunity to establish an official network in the new market, accompanied again by heavy investment in production facilities to satisfy the demand.
Hmm, I’ve actually been playing around with some more chrome, but I felt that it started to look slightly overfrought and went back to what you see above. But then again, maybe I tend to be slightly too cautious with chrome and stuff because I think I have a tendency to go overboard with frills if I don’t keep myself in check ^^
In general, Geoffrey Roderick Dillon was more the Jazz type, but when at work on his cars, he would always listen to classical music, especially to French Romantic and Impressionist composers, whom Agnes had loved so much. As he sat in his office one evening, listening to Berlioz and enjoying a Lagavulin, he pondered how far he’d come with his Dillon Brand, lifting his glass in thought to Agnes, in gratitude for the inspiration with which she was still imbuing him.
And while he had plenty good reason to be content, one thought popped into his mind: The Dillon lineup lacked a car that would be suitable for Geoffrey himself to drive. He didn’t want a chauffeur car - he enjoyed driving himself way too much, though it would have to be something just as fitting for the head of a successful company.
The very next day plans were made. The Manticore was due for retirement anyway, it had fulfilled its halo role and was by now starting to become too well known to be truly exotic. There wouldn’t be a direct successor; The next top-of-the-line Dillon would be a luxurious grand tourer. A stately car, upholstered with only the finest in wood and leather, propelled across the landscape by a silky V12.
