Arriving in India for the first time can be a daunting experience. Suffocatingly hot temperatures, a maze of immigration and customs procedures, and a chaotic arrival hall await the intrepid traveler. Salesmen surround new arrivals in hopes of leading them into private taxis or family-owned guest houses. Confused exchanges with the taxi booth attendant are compounded by the frenetic police officers who make taxi assignments. Still more solicitors make desperate pleas as the overwhelmed traveler finally arrives at their taxi - a car that looks like it belongs on the rain-slicked streets of 1950s London. Instead of motoring towards Piccadilly Circus, this car nimbly traverses potholed roads where lumbering trucks, riotous motorcycles, bullock carts, and even elephants mingle indiscriminately. Welcome to India. Meet the Hindustan Ambassador.

The Ambassador is, quite simply, India's first car. An icon of India's independence from British rule, the first of the nation's most ubiquitous people movers rolled off the assembly line of Hindustan Motors (HM) in 1957. The car proved that India was capable of the first-world hallmark of independent auto production, despite the fact that it was based entirely on the English Morris Oxford Series III. In a deal struck between the Birla family of fledgling HM and the Morris Motor Company, the tooling for production of the 55hp, side-valve Morris Oxford III was moved to a plant in West India, where it still resides today. The jolly Oxford series was relegated to the automotive annals by 1970 while Hindustan still sells more than 20,000 Ambassadors a year to a nation that can't seem to let go.



And why should it? The Amby, as it's lovingly nicknamed, has the kind of nostalgic appeal that breeds intense loyalty. It's a car that connects the modern Indian populous to a time when the country was first recognized as an independent nation of the 20th century. Instead of technological innovation, it relies on classic, dignified styling to drive sales. And even to the most casual observer, understanding the car's lasting appeal is an easy visual leap; the 2008 Ambassador Classic looks nearly identical to the Ambassador Mark I of 1957.

It's a challenge to find what's changed inside since 1957. Formal, upright bench seats are standard in every Ambassador. Fussy crank controls still operate the windows. The driver wrestles with a stubborn, antiquated gearbox. There is rarely any air conditioning, only triangular window quarters that blast occupants with the dry, superheated air of August in Delhi. Indeed, apart from an impressively cushioned suspension system that insulates passenger and driver from the rattle of rough Indian roads – the comforts of the Ambassador seem to be entirely psychological. Stepping out of a crowded bazaar and into a spacious Ambassador is like entering an oasis of order, a civilized reprieve from the non-stop swirl of activity in India's most populated cities.

Beneath the voluptuous hood there have been a few notable developments since the Oxford first plied the subcontinent. Power steering, an indigenously developed fuel injection system, and an 1800cc Isuzu engine all bring the Ambassador at least to the forefront of 1970s automotive technology. New buyers can also opt to equip their $10,000, sherry red Classic with an LPG/CNG-powered engine, an attractive option amidst skyrocketing petrol and diesel prices.

Prior to the introduction of the Suzuki Maruti 800 in 1984, nearly every car sold in India was an Ambassador. Hindustan enjoyed the kind of monopoly that does not inspire change or innovation. The result is a volume of available spare parts (and mechanics who know how to use them) unknown to virtually any other automobile in the world. A quick look at the Hindustan website’s “Ten Reasons To Buy An Ambassador” confirms this in a wonderfully understated way. Reason number nine: It's repairable.

But are repairability and history enough to keep new Ambys on the road for another fifty years? Young Indian auto buyers, awash in a sea of rapid technological advancement, are increasingly less impressed with the quaint decor and sluggish unreliability of their nation’s first automobile. Manufacturers like Tata motors are racing to meet the demands of modern Indian drivers with everything from homegrown luxury SUVs to the smallest, most affordable passenger car ever made, the $2,500 Nano. Choices like this make the Ambassador’s charm seem less relevant and its future bleak.



But the Ambassadors, at least those already on the road, aren't going anywhere soon. The car is deeply entrenched in government service, being the car of choice for shuttling local officials, police captains, and military officers around the country. And no car will ever outfavor the Ambassador for the taxi trade, not as long as the supply of cheap parts flows like the river Ganges. That’s good news for visitors to cities like Delhi, Kolkata, and Mumbai, where taking a slow ride in an Ambassador is as much as part of the Indian experience as visiting the Taj Mahal.

--Sloan Schang