This ’60s Rover Brochure Is For People Who Don’t Want To Do Anything The Normal Way

The Rover P6 2000 is a pretty interesting car. It was directly inspired by the revolutionary Citroën DS, translated through a lens of Britishness, and I mean that in a positive way. Compared to most British cars of the era, the P6 was quite a bold departure, and perhaps that’s what was being alluded to in this 1966 brochure for the car, which seems to show the car being driven and used by someone who just can’t be normal.

I mean, I get that lots of brochures like to put their cars in novel settings and situations; that makes sense, because regular roads and parking lots can be pretty boring. But if you look at these all together, in the space of one brochure, I think you’ll just come away with the conclusion that whoever owns these cars is an absolute loon who has no idea where the hell people are supposed to drive.

I mean, look at this:

Like, that’s a path, my dog. Like a footpath. You want to cross that bridge? That bridge built, for what, healthy people, toddlers, and dogs? Look at this:

You’re not getting on that bridge, dummy. What the hell are you doing out there, anyway? All those hikers and joggers are pissed, and some of them are old people who will definitely look up your number tag and make trouble.

I mean, how did you even get way out there in the forest? Weaving around trees like a slalom, scaring the local Dalmatians? And for what?

You’re fishing? In the forest? Is there a body of water somewhere behind you there? I can’t see one. I just see more grass and trees. My brother in Chrysler, I really think you’re trying to catch a trout in the forest.

Okay, here we see a P6 parked actually near water, but it looks like it’s right on the damn dock, and that captain’s hat left on the back seat suggests something like a crime scene. This feels like you just chucked a yacht owner, a real Thurston Howell-type, right out of the car and into the bay. Maybe they tripped over those ropes on the way down. You probably got them real drunk, too.

Now what are you doing? Have you ever used a sun visor before? You don’t have to seize them like you’re grabbing a wayward, escaped ferret. Just calm down, dude.

Oh, jeezis, now what? What are you buying at that antique store? You seem pretty happy with that helmet. But you’re not getting all that other crap in that trunk, ma’am. Look at it! How are you getting that creepy children’s sanitarium tricycle and that table and those huge scales in there? And, wait – are you buying produce at the antique store, too? That’s cauliflower, and those are shallots and some lettuce – what the hell? What antique store sells produce? And why are you buying it?

Ugh, you’re hopeless.

I do like the duplicated reflectors under the trunk lid, replacing the ones on the lower part of the lid itself. You know what other detail I like about the P6? This one:

“Easily recognizable switches.” That doesn’t sound like a big deal now, but the idea of actually labeling what each one of a dozen or so identical plastic switches does was a pretty novel idea back in the ’60s. So good on Rover for that.

I also like this use of the glove box as a little in-car library. What is that red book?

Anyway, these Rover buyers are loons.