This may not exactly qualify as "MG Magic"... it's more like "one of
those things that can only happen in a British Sports Car"... I was
saving this anecdote for British Car Week, but since you asked for it...
; )
The Downward Spiral -- A Moral Tale
(A Saga of British Car Addiction)
My introduction to British sports cars was through my best high school
buddy, whom I'll call Ron ('cuz that's his name). When we went away to
college, his first car purchase was a '71 Spitfire, which was a
moderately late-model used car at the time. It was actually in great
shape, and if we two ignorant twits had had the sense to do any
preventive maintenance, such as replace hoses, it would have been pretty
reliable. We used it to run gimmick rallies, until one evening he soloed
it into a ditch, a total loss. The reason I describe this car is because
of the curious circumstance that each succeeding sports car that Ron ever
bought was significantly *worse* than its predecessor.
His next purchase was a beautiful Tartan Red '65 MGB roadster ...with
saggy doors and *very* low oil pressure. Nonetheless we made many long
road trips in it, and used to draw a modest crowd when waxing it in front
of the dorms on sunny afternoons. When it got to the point that the oil
pressure dropped to 5 lbs. at operating temperature, he traded it in (on
a very scary '69 Mustang Mach 1). That was followed by a completely
unrestored, wonderfully patinated TR3, with the head off. It eventually
ran, but on a mountainous road trip developed an enormous thirst and a
serious limp. Teardown revealed the head was cracked in seven places.
Many years later the itch returned. Ron chose to scratch it by acquiring
a GT6+, that some homegrown genius had completely rewired using Radio
Shack components. This DPO of DPOs had also attempted to improve the
panel fit from the BMC standard quarter-inch gaps to approximately 1/32
via the application of about 70 lbs. of plastic body filler to the door
and bonnet edges. Need I add that the vehicle was primer gray? There was
also a 16 x 20" hole in the passenger-side firewall. For some reason his
girlfriend refused to ride in this car... It languished for several years
in a friend's barn before he could be persuaded to dispose of it.
The low point was reached when I went with him to view a Mk. 1 Spitfire.
It was sitting in the open with no top, the cockpit full of leaves. It
was impossible to say what color it had been, since the paint had
entirely faded away. What was left was a mottled surface of iron oxide,
punctuated by a random sprinkling of 1/2 inch holes, the legacy of a
misguided assault on the wrinkled panels with a slide-hammer... the
overall effect resembled the Bonnie & Clyde death car. The proud owner of
this shambles wanted $250... I told Ron he was nuts. The next day Ron
asked me to help him tow it home.
Astonishingly, after the usual preparations, the motor actually fired up.
A few weeks later Ron had enough confidence to propose taking it on a
beer run to the 7-11 (about a mile away). We had to jump it to get
started, but Ron blithely assured me that we could just leave the motor
running and we'd be OK.
It took a sharp left turn across traffic to get into the 7-11 parking
lot, where the modest incline of the driveway apparently proved too much
for the aging Triumph, which promptly quit, leaving us with the front
wheels in the gutter and the rest of the car blocking traffic. Ron was
desperately grinding away at the starter, and I was fumbling with the
stiff and rusty door latch to get out and push, when out of the lot
appears a gorgeous MGB-GT. As it rolls to a halt abreast of us, the
tweed-bedecked, silver-haired driver leans out the window, and, with a
deadpan expression and a plummy British accent, intones, "Buy British,
buy best!", befores he motors away, leaving us helpless with laughter.
Anyway, that phrase has become my motto as I maintain my MGB, the
purchase of which I directly owe to Ron, as it happens. I was
accompanying him as he went to look at this '66 MGB roadster. I told him
it had some problems (possible rod knock) but was probably worth the
modest asking price, so he gave the man a deposit and was going to return
the next day to pick it up. That night Ron called me up and said he just
realized that he needed that money for his Colorado ski vacation (already
booked) and was I interested in buying the car instead? So that's how I
went from being an LBC hanger-on to an owner. Meanwhile Ron has been
making do with a Camry coupe, but he's been complaining lately that it's
too big and clumsy, so he may have caught the itch again... I don't think
he can sink any lower than that Spitfire, so hopefully we can start him
on an upward pattern this time...
Cheers,
Max
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Max Heim
mvheim@studiolimage.com
Studio L'Image/San Francisco
415 643 9309 : 415 643 9307 fax
Studio L'Image/New York
212 242 3366 : 212 242 3399 fax
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