Grenadier Man

Words and pictures by Andy Ford

It’s a bright, sunny Thursday morning in Hampshire. Barry Turner is sitting in a traffic jam yet again.

The A34 near Winchester can be a cruel mistress when you’ve got places to go and people to see.

For someone this busy, existing at the heart of a thriving, multi-faceted business, wasted time on the road is a nuisance. But even though the traffic around him would be enough to drive the calmest motorist to distraction, Barry feels totally at home. His time here is never wasted.

Putting in the miles

“The Landrover Disco this replaced did 230,000 miles. The vehicle that replaced did 270,000 miles, the vehicle that replaced, 275,000. I do an awful lot of miles,” said Barry. A quick glance at the odometer on his INEOS Grenadier reveals he’s already spent 7,344 miles at the wheel. He’s only had it for three months and he’s covering lots of tarmac fast.

“Yep to be honest I’ve been pretty quiet on the roads this summer. I’d normally be driving a lot more.”

There’s a sense of warm satisfaction in his voice as he caresses the black leather steering wheel. He’s surrounded by an array of buttons and gadgets connecting this self-confessed petrol head to the machine that envelops him.

A mobile office

Barry is happy and the reason is simple. He sees this as the perfect base for every activity he has to perform in his demanding, 70-hours a week, working life. The Grenadier might be designed as the ultimate off-road vehicle, but he actually spends very little time careening across fields, traversing crazy hills, smashing through deep puddles or navigating incredible terrain.

“If you’re gonna sit in traffic for long periods of time, you know you want to sprint when you want to sprint. This thing will sprint. This thing will handle a country road as well as a motorway. The visibility is brilliant. The seat position is lovely. There are lots of buttons and they all do something. That's just pure Grade A Tonka toy,” he says, pausing for a second and pointing up at the array of controls handling diff, off-road, hill descent, his bumper mounted winch, and the outside power sources. When Barry chose his Grenadier, he left no stone unturned. He wanted everything.

If the shoe fits...

“I think my car was one of the first 15 of its kind in the country. When I first got into it and had a drive, I really wasn’t sure though,” he confessed.

“After a while, I just started to fall in love with it. After driving a Discovery for a long time, it took some getting used to. But I’ve come to the realisation that the Grenadier is like the best pair of handmade Italian leather shoes you’ve ever owned. The first time you put them on, you think they are a bit uncomfortable. Before long, it’s all you want to wear and they are the absolute best thing ever.”

I look down at his feet. I’m not sure if he has a pair of M.Gemi or Scarosso’s. I sense Barry spends most of his time in boots. Often muddy ones. His job with R.S Hill and Sons defies a simple description. From managing estates of residential park homes all over the UK, or working around the arable farm near his Hampshire home, to masterminding a revolutionary communications network providing radio contact for multiple, diverse businesses.

A quick peek into the back of the Grenadier reveals all. There are drills, toolboxes, cables, ropes, boots and work gloves spilling out, a pair of Le Chameau’s are crammed into the clever storage compartment in the centre of the spare wheel because there’s no room for them in the back. This is no concourse car. It’s a workhorse – and Barry rides it hard.

Jack of all trades

“Some days I’m in a suit at an important meeting, handling stuff about multi-million pound deals,” He added. Maybe he does have the odd pair of Milan’s finest knocking around after all.

“I can go from that, to lying under a car sorting the electronics, to doing something on the farm, or something else where I’ll end up covered in mud. No two days are alike. It’s great fun but hard work and long hours behind the wheel.”

It’s been 30 years since he joined R. S Hill and Sons after answering a small add in the local paper which he thought was about fixing broken car radios.

“I turned up and there was an old BMW with a broken dashboard in it. Mr Hill asked me if I could fix it and I said yes. He said…go on then! I came back the next day with the parts it needed and fixed it on the spot. He said I could start work straight away – and I’ve never looked back,” said Barry.

His boss, Ashwin Hill, is something of an inspiration. Now in his 80’s, he runs his firm ‘the old way’. “I think he still thinks it’s 1989 sometimes. It can get quite interesting,” chuckled Barry. “He’s old school. The company is run properly and nothing’s wasted.”

All about the story

I decided the best place to chat to Barry was sitting alongside him in his Grenadier as we gazed out across the stunning landscape of the Hampshire downs which are home to the R.S Hill and Sons farm. It’s also one of the places he pursues his other love – shooting. The estate boasts one of the loveliest shoots in the county.

“So why did you decide on the Grenadier then, Barry,” I asked. I already knew there was plenty of room in the back for his spaniel, and the stereo handled his addiction to audio books.

“I just love the story of it. I love it so much. It matches my world. Mr Hill has created a business that’s probably one of the biggest around, but very few people know anything about it. I sense Jim Ratcliffe is a bit the same. Hardly anyone knows what INEOS actually is, but didn’t it do £60 billion turnover last year or something?

“INEOS is a success story. I only became aware of the brand when we were involved in fitting radio kit to the America’s Cup yachts. Then I looked into what they did - and found out about the car. I had to have one.”

Petrolhead

Barry’s love of cars has also led him to where he’s sitting now. Little did I know just how much of a car enthusiast I was chatting to.

“My first car was a 2.0 Ford Capri. Bright yellow with a black vinyl roof and chrome. I paid £150 for it – and it cost £360 to insure it. I quickly realised I had to work really hard if I wanted to have a nice car. Then I got together with my wife, we had a family. I was working two jobs to support us all when we first got together,” he said.

“I’ve been lucky enough to own some great cars over the years, from classics to a Porsche Turbo. I sold that because it was just too fast. Scared the life out of me,” he laughed.

And then Barry opened up his secret stash. Nestled in the scruffiest, most perfect workshop you’ve ever seen, surrounded by offcuts of timber, metal work and hand-made tool benches is the rarest of prizes a car lover head could ever want.

There’s a fibreglass body showing signs of needing love but looking like a work of Italian art. Next to it, a shiny, partly restored frame carrying perfectly appointed wheels and tyres. In the corner, the most enticing ingredient to this amazing kit of parts – a fully reconditioned 5.4 litre V8 Chevrolet Corvette engine. It won’t be too long before it’s humming under the bonnet, turning heads all around the valley.

“This is a Gordon-Keeble. Built in Southampton in the 60’s. Back in the day they said this was the ultimate British supercar. Only 99 were ever officially built – and this is number 61.”

My jaw hit the floor. The Keeble is a car of legend. The story of a British classic that failed, but still tugs on the heart strings of people like Barry Turner. “Again, I just love the story of it Andy. I’m a sucker for a good story.”

The Gordon-Keeble went out of production in 1967 after a brief but glorious flirtation with the supercar market, rivalling Aston Martin and the E-Type Jag. It’s bonnet badge displays a tortoise – which, legend has it, gate-crashed the press launch which took place at Jim Keeble’s Hampshire home.

Incredibly, Barry owns two Gordon-Keeble’s – and has restored and sold another. “The one I sold was number 81. It was green and went like a rocket. What a car that was. You should have heard the engine purr.”

Barry has a far away look in his eye. The kind only a true car enthusiast has when they talk about the noises made by engines. The restored classic will be painted bright yellow when it’s resprayed and roadworthy – perhaps a nod to that old Ford Capri.

Back in the luxury of the Grenadier, and our time together is almost over.

“I think the thing about this car is that it has character,” added Barry.

“We all know it was conceived in a pub. The car certainly isn’t perfect – but then in reality nothing is. I love the fact that the designers have gone out and sourced the very best of everything. The engine is a BMW. Bombproof. Gearbox the same. Bombproof. It’s built properly. It’s got a fantastic chassis. I love the shape of it and the way it drives. To be honest, looking at it you wonder how well it’s going to handle on the road as it looks a bit like a Defender – and they were a nightmare. But this is something else.”

“Everything I’ve thrown at this so far it’s handled. From towing stuff to off road to spending hours and hours on motorways. Sometimes when people buy a car, there’s a bit of regret – but that’s not the case with this. I wouldn’t say it’s a petrol head’s car because it’s a work tool though. The ultimate work tool for me

“There are a few little touches I love too. The ‘Toot’ horn on the steering wheel which is behind the kind of red button you’d find on a Tonka toy. The fact a box of shotgun cartridges fits perfectly into a recess on the front bumper when you’re on a shoot. The sunroof panels pop out too. Perfect if you want to stand up to shoot out of them if you are lamping or something.”

Barry walks out, and starts to gaze across the sweeping valley which unfolds in a canvas of green and gold before him.

“One of the things about a car. If you walk away, then look back at it and smile, you know you’ve bought the right one.”

The grin on Barry Turner’s face says it all.

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