Morgan is as eccentric as companies come, and that’s apart from the improbable fact that it’s an English car manufacturer that greeted the year with a full order book and every intention of making a profit. 


Indeed in February, sales director Matthew Parkin claimed that the company has never been busier. At the height of the boom in 2006 it made 590 cars; last year it made 634; and this year Parkin says he has deposits for a similar or slightly higher number.


Stumble upon the motley collection of sheds that comprise this English manufacturer of traditional sports cars in the rural town of Malvern, Worcestershire, however, and you would be forgiven for thinking that you’d entered a museum rather than a working family business. 


The cars themselves are long-bonneted, deeply cowled affairs straight out of the Great Depression era, while up in the rafters there’s a taxidermied Little Owl keeping watch over it all. How on earth, one muses, could a company like this have survived a century in the car business when the vast majority of its peers disappeared or were taken over by rivals? 


It might, at first, seem glaringly obvious: by never growing really big, the company hasn’t had to shrink according to market forces. But this does not fully explain the enduring success of the brand. One example of the company’s endearing personality and feel-good factor is the owl itself, which very cost-effectively scares off any errant birds that might foul the gleaming bodywork below. 


In any event, it is an astonishing achievement to be the only car manufacturer in the world to have reached its 100th anniversary while being still wholly owned by its founding family. 


It was Harry Morgan, who completed his first car in 1909 and skilfully built a highly successful business around rapid three-wheelers until the late 1930s. Next there was Peter Morgan, who built a tremendously successful export business in the post-war years centred on the company’s core product the 4/4, so-called because it had four wheels and four cylinders. And today there is Charles Morgan, who was responsible for launching the Aero 8, a BMW-engined supercar that took the company into the 21st century when launched in February 2000.


But that’s not the half of it. Even the most cursory reading of a newly published history of the company demonstrates just how improbable Morgan’s survival as an independent business was at virtually any point in the last century. 


During both world wars the company had to cease car production, turning its machine shop over to war work, while crises arrived with distressing regularity. First there was the inflation-followed-by-deflation economy of 1918–23, which forced Morgan to halve the price of its cars. Then there was the Depression compounded by a disastrous tax reform in 1936 that destroyed the appeal of Morgan’s three-wheeler in its core UK market. Following the war, an emaciated supply chain stretched the company’s balance sheet to near breaking point, while British customers shunned Morgan’s yesteryear styling because it reminded them of the depressing 1930s. That led the company to export heavily to an eager US market only to see it collapse in 1962, when free-spending Californian buyers vanished because of a financial downturn in the US aviation sector.


Though successful overall, the ’70s and ’80s were characterised by a confidence crisis as Morgan’s production methods stood still and waiting lists extended a decade into the future. Having embraced change and invested heavily in the Aero 8 — a car selling for Porsche money — warranty claims led to heavy losses even in recent years. 


Looking back, Charles Morgan attributes the survival of the company partly to its prudence, never accepting outside investment and always putting aside funds in good years to sustain the company through inevitable losses. Without question, Morgan’s early survival rested on a cushion of family reserves and an absence of bank debt. 


Morgan’s other secret is clarity over its core competence and an absence of hubris. It is unparalleled at producing exceptionally lightweight sports cars with handcrafted coachwork, but has never been tempted to try its hand at engines, which are bought from the likes of Ford and BMW, enabling it to update its cars under the skin while staying ahead of emissions requirements. 


Finally, the company’s classic roadster has gradually assumed the status of a classic work of art. Like the Porsche 911, it has been subtly updated a hundred times yet remains fundamentally the same. Hence Charles Morgan’s insistence: “Morgan is a company that is always updating but never appears to change.” 


Perhaps above all, Morgan’s loyal (and global) fan base reflects the enduring appeal of its products, all of which have conquered mighty Porsches and Ferraris on numerous occasions on the track. Far from getting heavier and larger, Morgans have remained featherweight, the current 4/4 1800 weighing just 880kg, less even than a Fiat Panda. Because the cars can be rebuilt and updated, they are effectively recycled as well, leading to a green rating as good as a Toyota Prius. 


Finally, the secret value proposition of a Morgan is that it depreciates very slowly on the used market, while driving one always seems to elicit grins rather than angst from other drivers. 


Celebrating its 100th anniversary later this year with a huge party in Cheltenham, England, Morgan expects as many as 5,000 owners to arrive in their cars, approximately one-eighth of the company’s entire output over the past century. Many will make the pilgrimage from Germany and France; others will come from the US, Switzerland, Greece and Spain. In a year in which the global car business is in turmoil, the men from Malvern have much to be proud of.