Hammers tap softly; drills whine no louder than a dentist's. The soundtrack in the factory where they've been making those spiffing little Morgan sports cars for decades is odd; the smells are even odder - seasoned ash rather than scorched metal - and the sights are positively bizarre.
Automated assembly line? Gantry cranes overhead? Oh no. Here, chassis and bodyshells are cradled on wooden trestles or trundled round on little trollies. And as soon as an embryo Morgan sprouts wheels, it's pushed from tin shop to wood shop to paint shop, presumably to get it used to using them.
Morgans are made in the Malvern hills, a location far outside the harsh, doomed motor manufacturing triangle of Cowley, Dagenham and Longbridge. It's a magic domain in mellow, Elgar country, and you might think time has stopped still at the plant, which was producing more cars after the 1914-18 war than it does today (50 a week then; 11 now).
It has taken Morgan 64 years to come up with a wholly new model, the Aero 8; a sibling of the 4/4 and the Plus 8, the two models currently on the market. When the Aero 8 was unveiled in Geneva two weeks ago, motoring hacks must have pinched themselves to be sure they weren't dreaming, for so much of the Morgan mystique is wreathed in myth and mist.
But no, there was the reassuring presence of Charles Morgan, grandson of the founder of the family firm, HFS Morgan - fabled inventor of the sliding pillar front suspension (marvellous road grip, but a great denture-rattler), to vouch that a new babe had been born and was legitimate Morgan stock.
The Aero 8 is a zappy, aerodynamic design with advanced aluminium chassis, top speed of 160 mph from a 4.4 BMW V8 engine, and a price tag of almost £50,000 - which should test your braking distance. Will so advanced a car really emerge from the low-built, laid-back collection of buildings in Malvern Link, redolent with nostalgia for the first Morgan three-wheelers and the racing circuit?
Charles, a former ITN cameraman with a degree in business management who heads the company now that his father, Peter, is taking it easier at 80, is a little hurt by the question. Morgan's a lot more modern than you think, he says (we'll come back to that) and slightly stung by criticism from the Daily Telegraph at the launch.
The DT's motoring writer opined: "My initial reaction was to ask if customers would be able to specify their Aero 8s without the body." Morgan staff looked slightly pained. Most of all, the DT man didn't like the headlamps, and reckoned they gave the car a cross-eyed look.
Charles is understandably defensive. These headlamps are "probably the most beautiful in production" - and the most expensive Bosch make, he adds. The Aero 8 is "a modern concept of what a 1930s sports car should look like". Sure, there are more creature comforts - electrically heated windows and air conditioning for the first time - but then, to be a Morgan owner, you don't have to be a stoic in leather helmet and goggles .
From July, two Aero 8s a week will be produced. But why, given that the waiting list for the 4/4 and the Plus 8 is about four years, bother to update? Surely they could go on for ever, turning out 500 or 600 cars a year for avid buyers, who prize them more than shares in a hot dot.com company? And with gross company profits of £3m, the family, like their motors, are doing very well without changing gear.
Partly it's that Charles wants to revive the grand racing days of Morgan and make his mark; partly it's because the length of the waiting list - it once stretched to 11 years - can be so frustrating that some would-be purchasers drop-out - or die, presumably of melancholy.
Charles hints that there could even be an expansion of production - they've got spare land "as big a football pitch" on their present site. Expansion! Surely that's enough to tremble the stiff upper lips of vintage Morgan owners, such as those stalwarts who'll turn out in August for the "Mog 2000 Gymkhana", a weekend fest of sprints, races, and reminiscences.
But don't get Charles wrong: expansion would be a million miles from mass production: "Even if we were to make 1,500 cars a year, Morgans would still be a limited edition. 50% of them go abroad."
The works staff show no signs of being fazed by the advent of the Aero 8. In the last few years, they've got to used to new developments. Well, relatively accustomed. When Sir John Harvey-Jones first came to the factory a decade ago for his TV series, Troubleshooter, he remarked to a foreman who'd been there for 31 years that he must have seen a lot of changes. The foreman famously replied "No, not a great deal at all, no."
Maybe not then, but all staff have by now. Time is on the move. For decades, customers could never get through on the phone in the middle of the day because most of the staff lived close enough to go home for lunch and no one stayed to take the calls. At last, someone does.
It is true, too, that at one stage in their production, the half-built carts were actually pushed uphill, by employees, between the different shops. Marketing manager Matthew Parkin smiles indulgently, but insists it doesn't happen any more: now they're pushed down the gradient. There is still a series of separate workshops, but the chaos that used to reign has been ironed out. "We used to start 10 cars together here on a Monday." says Parkin. "Often , there was no space to do anything. Now we start two cars a day, Monday to Friday, and it's all smoother."
Morgan has forgiven Harvey-Jones his original blistering comments, and he's been back there for a more mutually-forgiving visit (the programme was shown last Thursday).
They've cut the time it takes a car to progress from chassis building, panelling, engine and electrical fitting, painting, upholstery to the final sparkling finish from four weeks to about 17 days
And they've done it while keeping intact the air of a coachworks, where many of the stages are still hand-crafted. Sure, there's laser technology for precision cutting aluminum panels, but you can still see workmen with metal clippers. And though the wings are now pressed out of single metal sheets, rather than a skilled, deft patchwork of pieces, the body frame is still made of ash.
"That's kiln-dried ash," explains Parkin, like a manager in a posh restaurant describing the construction of the house special. Except that, on the Morgan menu, many of the ingredients are still traditional. Connolly leather seats in all cars; and, in the Aero 8, a removable Mulberry leather case for your personal computer.
As Morgan is the ultimate name to drop in certain (but not all) circles, they have to be careful, in these days of pushy lifestyle products, who they keep company with by way of accessories. Happily, that's a caveat that doesn't extend to their customers: Morgan don't mind who buys their cars, so long as the customer has the cash - and a life expectancy of at least four years in order to be around on the delivery date.
