Of all of the ways to accessorize a car and make it your own, the steering wheel may be the most intimate. After all, unlike other easy bolt-in items like seats, tires, and wheels, and expensive integrated work like engine and suspension mods, the steering wheel is the thing you’re both holding and seeing the entire time you’re driving. In addition, a steering wheel is like the choice of a faucet in a new kitchen that provides a visual exclamation point for the design. When done right, it can, as The Dude said, pull the room together.
Like wheels and radios, steering wheels tend to go through pendulum swings of desire for originality, modification, and back again to originality. Before the advent of airbags and integrated stereo and cruise control buttons that made the steering wheel an inextricable part of the car, many people lived with the original wheel for a time, then swapped it out for something more sporty (usually smaller and thicker).
Then, with passing decades, the value of the car rises, the market rewards originality, and like original steel wheels and radios, the correct steering wheel becomes a highly-prized component. I’ve seen this in my beloved 1970s BMWs which all came with “bus wheels” that are laughably large by modern standards (the one in my Bavaria is nearly 17 inches). Many owners replaced them with smaller, meatier Momos. I did. But as the decades pass and my hair gets grayer, I’ve come to appreciate both the soothing look of the original thin black three-spoke bus wheel, as well as fact that its size buys you the ability to rest both hands on the bottom of the rim during long trips (and, on non-power-assisted cars, the ability to park it without herniating yourself).
My ’74 Lotus Europa Twin Cam Special has its original Springall steering wheel, the basic design of which was ubiquitous in 1960s and ’70s British cars and looks very similar to the German-made Petri wheel that’s a prized addition to a vintage BMW 2002 or E9 coupe. The Springall is a black wheel with three silver aluminum spokes, each of which has cut-out holes of decreasing radius. Springall made other non-Swiss-cheese steering wheels, some of which are quite elegant, but the cut-outs connote lightness and convey sportiness. Indeed, since Lotus founder Colin Chapman’s oft-quoted motto was “Simplify, then add lightness,” the Springall wheel is a natural for the car. Similar though larger Springall wheels were also eventually adopted by Jaguar for the E-Type.
I didn’t really think about the Europa’s steering wheel until I bought the ’69 Elan +2. It did not have its original Springall wheel—it had a smaller thicker Moto-Lita (some of which also have decreasing-radius spoke holes, just not this one). There was nothing wrong with the Moto-Lita—it was a period-correct modification to the +2—but it looked out of place to me. Even the Lotus-livery yellow-and-green colors on its horn button rubbed me the wrong way, as nothing else on the car was those colors.
As soon as the car was home in my garage, I began looking for a proper Springall wheel for it. I found one on eBay for a decent price, but then the whole “marked as stolen” episode happened that prevented me from registering the Lotus in Massachusetts and raised the specter that I was going to need to return the car to the seller. Before the matter was resolved, that Springall wheel on eBay sold.
In early June, after I solved a Lotus-died-while-driving problem and felt that the car had finally crested the big felt-sorted-out hill, I thought I’d see if I could find a Springall wheel and buy it for myself and the car as a Father’s Day present (I’m certain that many of you have had the same experience I have, when the family wants to buy you birthday or Christmas or Father’s Day presents, but you need to do it yourself due to the degree of specificity, then you get playfully chewed out for it). I looked deeper into which Springall wheels were used, and which would fit the +2.
Most factory steering wheels, both old and new, are a single unit, whereas most aftermarket wheels have a circle of bolts that allow it to be attached to a hub that’s specific to a certain make and model. The Springalls are somewhere between the two. They were the factory Lotus wheels, but the hubs are small and tightly-integrated, not like the big conical fez-looking hubs on many aftermarket wheels.
Still, obviously I wanted to be certain that anything I bought would actually fit my Elan +2. Old Lotuses are parts-bin cars with many components pilfered from British Leyland brands, especially Triumph, and others coming from European Ford. I read reports that early +2s like mine used a steering column from a Ford Cortina, whereas later ones used Triumph columns. All had 36 splines, but there appeared to be some disagreement on whether they all were 5/8-inch or whether some were 9/16”. Further, although many steering wheels are 5/8-inch and 36-spline, the steering column on the Lotus tapers behind the splines.
In terms of the wheels themselves, vintage Lotuses used several variations. Some were flat and looked nearly identical to the German Petri, while others had varying degrees of dish. There were two different horn button sizes and two colors (the button was changed from yellow and green to black to mark the death of Lotus racer Jim Clark). And, to my surprise, it appears that the correct one for the Elan +2 actually has black spokes. Nonetheless, I preferred the several slightly-different versions of the Elan wheels with silver spokes, as the silver picked up the chrome around the gauges. The most highly-prized of these are the factory ones that came with Colin Chapman’s engraved signature on them. Having one of these wheels is particularly appropriate on the 1500-pound Elan.
I found an unsigned Springall wheel on eBay in nearby Connecticut that looked like it was in good condition, though the photos weren’t great. At $225 with no horn button or horn contact—and missing the Springall label on the back—the price seemed steep. I did some reading on the Elan forum and learned there were several versions and sizes of the horn button. Original ones were rare, but reproductions were about $80. The seller appeared to be not a Lotus owner, but someone who did consigned thrift store sales. I asked if she had a storefront and if I could drive down and try out the wheel in my car to be certain it would fit. Her response was a terse “No.” I backed off due to the perceived risk.
After thinking about it, I offered the seller $150. She countered with $200. I raised to $160. She dropped it to $190. It was nearing the point where, having to buy a horn button, it made no sense, but as they say, don’t lose something you want over the last 10 percent. I offered $175, telling her that this was my best and final offer, and sending her links to other incomplete wheels that sold for less. I got no response. Oh, well. I do this all the time when I buy cars or guitars—think it through, make the offer, if they take it, fine; if not, fine. I was done.
But in the morning, I tried one more time. I was firm on price, but I messaged her, telling her that if she accepted my offer, I’d pay immediately. To my surprise, she replied quickly, saying, “Make it again, and I’ll accept it.” However, eBay only allowed three offers, and there seemed to be no way for me to make a fourth. I told her of this conundrum, and she was kind enough to relist it, which allowed me to make a fresh offer. $175, accepted, paid, done. With tax and shipping it came to just over $200, and I still had no horn button, but that felt acceptable. As long as it was in good shape and actually fit the car.
And then I had, well, not really buyer’s remorse, but the feeling that I’d crossed a line—that this was a frivolous purchase and not an inexpensive one at that. I mean, I say over and over that none of the cars ever gets everything it needs. Hell, I avoid spending $200 on four tires. What the hell was I doing spending it on a steering wheel I didn’t need?
Two days later, the wheel arrived at the house. It was in nearly perfect condition. It fits the steering column flawlessly, though the back of the wheel comes kind of close to the high beam and directional stalks. I was concerned about this, but I test-drove the car, and I wasn’t hitting them with the backs of my fingers. I love the way it looks in the car.
The sort-of buyer’s remorse changed into the practical, “What other parts do I have that I can sell to make this a zero-sum game?” And then I remembered: I had… a steering wheel! I had completely forgotten that I’d gone through something similar three years ago when I bought a BMW 2002 that had a lovely elegant Momo 15-inch wheel that was better suited to my 3.0CSi, which for decades had a 14-inch Fusina wheel that was always too boy-racer for the car. The Fusina had been sitting in the basement ever since. I did some research on it and learned that it was an Italian sport wheel that was popular on German and Italian race and rally cars. The the fact that it had both a hub and a horn button added to its value because those dimensions are unique to the wheel. I put it on Facebook Marketplace, and it sold in a day for $250.
A day later, I found an eBay auction for a Lotus horn button—$30 shipped from Bulgaria. It’s yellow and green, not black, but beggars can’t be choosers. The quoted dimensions matched that of my Springall wheel, but we’ll see if it actually fits.
I have to say that although I absolutely love the way the Springall looks in the car (it really does pull the room together), when I’m driving the car, I actually prefer the meatier feel of the Moto-Lita wheel. I’m not sure I’ll recognize myself in the mirror if I become the kind of person who has his driving wheel and his cars-and-coffee wheel, but we all grow and change in strange ways.
But if you see me swapping wheels and tires and seats before going to a car show, you are free to have me committed.
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Rob’s latest book, The Best Of The Hack Mechanic™: 35 years of hacks, kluges, and assorted automotive mayhem, is available on Amazon here. His other seven books are available here on Amazon, or you can order personally inscribed copies from Rob’s website, www.robsiegel.com.
I have changed wheels for a number of issues. The Fiero came with the plastic wheel and the factory leather was $650. My Momo Monte Carlo was much cheaper and I even bought it in Beverly Hills. LOL! The x ray machine at the airport I was asked Steering wheel?
My new to me 911 has a thin leather wheel that is so close to the dash you scrap the knuckles. I have a Momo I will use that is the same one most 911 racers used. The factory wheel will become a wall hanger like the Pontiac.
As for the 02 Corvette. It has a large wheel from the factory. I have yet to find a wheel I really like for the cat and can retain the air bag. There are some cheap knock offs from China and most are encased in fake carbon fiber I do not care for.
I may or may not change it. I did change the wheels but the factory wheels and tires are covered in storage.
The blessing of these changes like Steering wheels and road wheels are they can be modified and changed back in less than an hour. It is not like someone cut in a cheap sun roof.
The thing with a good quality wheel like a Momo. If you sell the car and you include it in the trunk the next owner will likely leave it there or hang it on the wall too. Now that lime green cheap wheel that looked cool when in high school may not be sitting well even in a lime green Pinto today.
Like they say some things never go out of style and Momo is a good choice.
I’m entering this chin scratching world trying to figure out what cool, appropriate, fits the space (and column), but still affordable wheel I’d like to put on my 32 Ford Roadster build. Man, it’s harder than people probably think ha
Rob new wheel looks great, and that dash with the wood grain looks so European. Now a question. what are those two gauges over in front of passenger and why would they be placed so far from the drivers line of sight? Thanks
