MG 4 ME
Every once in a while a young thing like me can learn a thing or two from an older chap and emerge all the better for it.
The chap in question is by no means perfect but more so quintessentially English, and ever so slightly shabby. Some wouldn’t even cast a second glance, but I have looked past the dishevelled exterior and admittedly I like what I see. Cheeky, full of eccentric character, and a mischievous beguiling glint that catches the eye.
I have this chap in the furthest recesses of my garage; a gold and black slightly shabby 1975 MGB GT, whom I have christened Roger. Bought on a whim a year or so ago, Roger is completely roadworthy, taxed, MOT’d and ever willing to serve. But I’ve hardly driven him – until now.
Because of my current sans-motorcycle and Alfa Spider situation and the fact that the Saab is rendezvousing with another who requires her load lugging services I needed another mode of transport to get to work, hence my foraging in the garage for something suitable.
So MGB it was.
On further investigation, it is my belief that the MGB was designed primarily as a pulling machine. Well it’d probably have pulled a girl like me had my paramour pulled up outside in a decent chrome bumpered one.
I’ve given this a lot of thought whilst meandering along the A-roads. Take a look at the evidence, the low-slung body means a ladies’ entrance and egress cannot be done with decorum nor can it really be done in a short skirt. The legs out in front seating position, again adds to the leg flashing appeal. The small close-seated cabin means a gear change can facilitate an illicit brush of an arm. Then there’s the heat. Driving the MG is akin to driving round in a sauna, not that I’ve driven a sauna because the handling is awful, but in an MG this is the norm. I thought I’d end up on the M4 in my underwear because I was stuck in traffic and the temptation to shed layers was ever present. Add to this the fabulous sound the MG makes, the curvaceous cutesy styling, the faux back seat, ideal for your handbag, the aeronautical dials on the dash giving your companion the steely resolve of a fighter pilot and the MG’s fun go kart style ‘feels like you’re doing 160 at 60 mph’ handling. If the MG could speak, its voice would be that of Bill Nighy. Let’s face it, if you’ve got one you’re onto a winner, and if it gets it’s top off Roadster style then I think I love you.
And I think this is why there are so many MG enthusiasts. Sure there are reliability problems, which luckily I’ve not had too many of, but this just adds to the charm, and frankly it’s a classic so you’d expect that an elderly motor will occasionally fail to proceed. The MG owners club is the largest classic car club in the country; there are an abundance of spares, new just like the factory body panels and not to mention the new styling tweeks, interior trim, décor and handling improvements. No wonder the MGB remains as popular as ever.
It is my sincere belief these little pulling machines are the perfect low budget, British Sports Car. An Aston on a shoestring, without having to foot the Aston sized bill, bit like buying a Ghost dress-a-like for a fiver from Primark. The MGB makes all the right noises, high fun factor mad as a nest of badgers, rather than the sledgehammer power of say an AMV8 Vantage my little MGB gives me more of a hard playground shove, but it really does the trick. Get your coat Roger, you’ve pulled.
The chap in question is by no means perfect but more so quintessentially English, and ever so slightly shabby. Some wouldn’t even cast a second glance, but I have looked past the dishevelled exterior and admittedly I like what I see. Cheeky, full of eccentric character, and a mischievous beguiling glint that catches the eye.
I have this chap in the furthest recesses of my garage; a gold and black slightly shabby 1975 MGB GT, whom I have christened Roger. Bought on a whim a year or so ago, Roger is completely roadworthy, taxed, MOT’d and ever willing to serve. But I’ve hardly driven him – until now.
Because of my current sans-motorcycle and Alfa Spider situation and the fact that the Saab is rendezvousing with another who requires her load lugging services I needed another mode of transport to get to work, hence my foraging in the garage for something suitable.
So MGB it was.
On further investigation, it is my belief that the MGB was designed primarily as a pulling machine. Well it’d probably have pulled a girl like me had my paramour pulled up outside in a decent chrome bumpered one.
I’ve given this a lot of thought whilst meandering along the A-roads. Take a look at the evidence, the low-slung body means a ladies’ entrance and egress cannot be done with decorum nor can it really be done in a short skirt. The legs out in front seating position, again adds to the leg flashing appeal. The small close-seated cabin means a gear change can facilitate an illicit brush of an arm. Then there’s the heat. Driving the MG is akin to driving round in a sauna, not that I’ve driven a sauna because the handling is awful, but in an MG this is the norm. I thought I’d end up on the M4 in my underwear because I was stuck in traffic and the temptation to shed layers was ever present. Add to this the fabulous sound the MG makes, the curvaceous cutesy styling, the faux back seat, ideal for your handbag, the aeronautical dials on the dash giving your companion the steely resolve of a fighter pilot and the MG’s fun go kart style ‘feels like you’re doing 160 at 60 mph’ handling. If the MG could speak, its voice would be that of Bill Nighy. Let’s face it, if you’ve got one you’re onto a winner, and if it gets it’s top off Roadster style then I think I love you.
And I think this is why there are so many MG enthusiasts. Sure there are reliability problems, which luckily I’ve not had too many of, but this just adds to the charm, and frankly it’s a classic so you’d expect that an elderly motor will occasionally fail to proceed. The MG owners club is the largest classic car club in the country; there are an abundance of spares, new just like the factory body panels and not to mention the new styling tweeks, interior trim, décor and handling improvements. No wonder the MGB remains as popular as ever.
It is my sincere belief these little pulling machines are the perfect low budget, British Sports Car. An Aston on a shoestring, without having to foot the Aston sized bill, bit like buying a Ghost dress-a-like for a fiver from Primark. The MGB makes all the right noises, high fun factor mad as a nest of badgers, rather than the sledgehammer power of say an AMV8 Vantage my little MGB gives me more of a hard playground shove, but it really does the trick. Get your coat Roger, you’ve pulled.
posted by Manda @ 11:30 pm
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