In the spirit of the Christmas season, and since I've enjoyed reading
everybody else's stories, this is mine. If you're tired of them, I'd
suggest you skip this one.
I was rather late in developing my attachment to British cars, having
already moved out of the house at 18. My roommate, upon the demise of her
old family car, bought herself a little white Midget. In fairly rapid
order we managed to burn valves (75 going over the mountains to Santa Cruz,
CA.), lose transmission, and develop clutch problems. Notwithstanding all
this, I promptly sold my 411 Datsun sedan and purchased a BRG Austin Healy
Sprite. We proceeded to tour much of Northern California in cavalcade,
often with 6 or 7 people in each car. At 21, I decided it was time for a
bigger car and purchased my first official car off a sales lot - the much
larger MGB. It was a 1970 primrose yellow B roadster, and steadfastly
performed on the backroads of British Columbia for my honeymoon (1978),
taught my husband to drive (1981), took me to the hospital for the birth of
my first child (1982), and sadly, was involved in a 5 car collision in
1983, to end its history with me. It was later restored by a neighbor, and
used as a daily driver. This left me with the task of finding another car.
After 5 weeks of perusing newspaper ads, I went to my husband with the
intention of making him buy the next car, as all I wanted was another MG.
He told me to buy another one, if I wanted it so much, so I bought myself a
71 MGBGT (so that I'd have room for the family). This car was not such a
good purchase, as 3 months after I got it, I proceeded to put a piston
through the oil pan. I got it repaired, and drive it to this day, even
though it no longer fits the kids, and it has become the source of much
good natured teasing from my husband. Sometimes I dream of having two
British cars at the same time, but I don't want to push my luck too much,
so I merely enjoy the one I have.
Nina
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