I was a teenager in the '60s when cubes ruled and grew up in the midwest
where every farm boy (and a few farm girls) around had a muscle car of
some sort. I had been saving up to buy a "cycle" and was thinking about
the recently released Yamaha Big Bear (forgot the size). Pa told me
that he & ma were concerned that I would kill myself if I got a bike
(they were probably right) and they would buy me a car for graduation if
I would not get a bike but use the $$ I'd saved for insurance and
college. It sounded like a pretty good deal but I didn't want no sh***y
ol '57 Cheby (shows how dumb I was then). Dad asked if I'd settle for
an MG. With all that American muscle on the streets, LBCs were sort of
inconspicuous except for a few bug-eye sprites that all sounded like
Honda 50's on steroids and XKEs that were totally out of my league and
could be bought only in places like Chicago or St Louis. I had no idea
what an MG was. A friend of his had a '59 MGA for sale & we went over
to look at it. It was not really love a first sight and I wasn't real
impressed with that little wasp waist and big ol snarky hood. It kinda
reminded me of a TR3 (they always looked like they should bend in the
middle). However, sitting in the cockpit was a completely different
experience (Walter Mitty in a Spitfire in the skies over Britain) - we
had a deal.
The car was in sore need of attention and my dad & I spent an entire
summer rebuilding the engine. He did all the up top work and I was the
guy in the pits with all the clunkers falling in my face. It was there I
first busted my knuckles, learned the different types of wrenches, the
importance of safety when working under cars, and my dad & I began to
become friends (laughing over the occasional bolt that was "too tight to
finger and too loose to screw"). We finally got the engine together and
back in the car. It was late in the evening when we were ready to fire
it up - nothing happened. Dad checked - it was getting gas and spark
but still not firing. Tried again - nothing. Checked again - nothing.
Disappointed, we called it a night. My mom tells that in the middle of
the night my dad sat up in bed and said "Thats it - its 180 degrees out
of timing". He got me up and we went out and turned the distributor.
It fired right up and we took a tool around the neighborhood at 4AM.
Later he redid the body and painted the car while I was at school.
While it wasn't fast, nothing I came across except a bike could
outmaneuver my little A and I did some of the most amazing things in
that car. The MG & I were on campus at SIU C'dale in spring of '71
during Kent State. Though I was a fairly serious science major, being a
student was the same as being a hippy in some folks eyes. I figured if
I was going to take the heat, I may as well eat in the kitchen and the
"MG" emblem on the trunk was replaced with a peace sign. For kicks, I
drove around campus during the demonstrations wearing a gas mask with a
four foot black rat snake draped over the windscreen. I had met the
first real love of my life that year and we went for weekend outings in
the southern Illinois hills with the redbud and dog woods blooming in
the countryside and students demonstrating against the war back in town.
I remember passing a convey of state police cars packed with troopers
that extended for blocks as we left town. The next week classes were
cancelled and both the school year and my romance were ended.
To make a long story short - the MG has spent the last 25 years on
blocks. I brought it down to Atlanta last April and have been restoring
it. When my wife first saw it, it was dusty, dirty and all scratched
up. The top was in tatters and generations of mice had been living in
the seats. The engine compartment looked like something out of "Tales
from the Crypt" and the trunk was full of spare parts and pieces. She
was not impressed. The last year has been a real experience. I've
found some examples of my dad's work that are truly brilliant and
masterpieces of bodywork. I've also come across other things that
confounded me until I realized that he didn't have all the info
available to those of us doing restorations now. For example - the
seams under the head lights on the front fenders were bondoed over.
Also there was one vented and one nonvented carb damper. This last
weekend I put the front fenders on and fully expect to meet my deadline
of having it on the road by the end of the month. My younger friends
all get this crazy gleam in their eyes when they see it ("It looks like
a James Bond car") and I've got a yard long list of people (mostly
women) who want rides in it. One buddy is planning a party, complete
with bagpiper, to celebrate its "coming out". Six months ago my wife
switched from calling it a piece of junk to referring to it as my "toy
car" and is looking forward to it getting on the road almost as much as
I am.
I think I am so fond of at least one LBC because of the role it has
played in my life and in the many lessons I have learned about myself
and others. I take great pride in the fact that it was built by people
who braved the blitz and the beaches at Dunkirk. It is truly the most
prized of my possessions and I consider myself fortunate to still have
it. I think that most of these old cars have similar stories - too bad
so many are lost. Cheers to all of you who are keeping em on the road.
ralph cordell
'59 MGA
'84 Turbo regal
'87 Grand National
'96 Roadmaster
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