Dad's only gone and bought himself an MG B. He loved the F, but thought it was "too reliable." Strange reason to sell a car, but my dad is a member of the MG Owners Club, a club of petrolheads who love to tinker with their machinery. The F worked so well, it started each and every time without complaint. Ludicrous; where's the fun in that?
Now dad has to nurse the B into life. Even with a turn of choke and a prod of the throttle there's no guarantee it'll start first time. The car shakes into life, literally, the whole body rattles as the engine first turns over, and then it isn't entirely happy ticking over until warm. That's a bit of a contrast to the F already and we haven't even moved yet.
Of course the differences don't stop there. The most obvious and immediate difference, is the massive cruise ship sized steering wheel. Squeezing my thighs under it, it seems as though all '63 B drivers must have either been severely malnourished, or super models (is there a difference?) But you soon realise the usefulness of such a circumference, because the lack of any power assisted steering means turning the wheels at low speed is something of a right old effort.
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| The giant steering wheel |
Once rolling the B actually does ride very well. It's soft, so taking corners can feel slightly like the earth is rotating beneath you. But this obviously means that despite half a century passing since it was bolted together, the B soaks up bumps and potholes without complaint.
One thing that is fantastic about this car and an example of where modern cars have regressed, is throttle response. The smallest nudge of the pedal immediately transfers to a gush of revs and rasping exhaust note. The response is instant and right there on the tip of the pedal, creating a very connected feel to those twin carburettors.
It's not the fastest thing on the road however, in fact I think most of today's 1.2 hatches could give it a run for its money, but it's more than usable. Although the 4 speed gearbox creates a real challenge for a young driver like myself. Having only driven synchro gearboxes, the hard clicks between gears and slightly offset layout of the B's box takes some getting used to. But once you understand first can only be selected when at an absolute standstill, and that the box doesn't like to be rushed, it's a very satisfying feeling sliding through the gears.
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| It's been 50 years since this car was 'bolted together' |
Perhaps an even bigger challenge however, are the brakes. They're not assisted, meaning stopping requires very solid pressure on the pedal. Even pulling up to a steady halt requires a firm but delicate application, with feel that bears little resemblance to the 'softer' pedals on modern cars. It takes some getting used to, but of course if those miniskirt wearing models could do it, so can I.
There is one thing that I particularly love about this car, that could make me proud to own a B for my very own; no matter what pulls up next to you at the lights, people love the B. Maybe it's the period Primrose yellow colour, maybe it's the wire wheels or even the fact that I'm not your usual B driver, but people smile, turn their heads and admire this car. It's a lovely feeling knowing you're behind the wheel of something just a little bit special. I'll be honest, I couldn't help but glance over at shop windows to catch a reflection as I rolled down a busy high street.
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| Simple mechanics, classic lines |
The MG B provides an entirely different driving experience to what I come across in my daily drive, and has really opened my eyes as to what driving is. Yes it's much slower, but still somehow more rewarding. It's as though the challenge the B creates to just drive, brings you closer to it. It needs you to work with it, rather than just prod pedals and spin the wheel. It requires nursing, delicacy and accuracy, and as a result creates a much more involving drive.
No wonder why I hear stories of how car owners of the past cared more for their cars than today's owners do. Back in the day, you really had to bond with this sort of car to be able to live with it. Nowadays we jump in our cars and go, without a second thought. Perhaps that's why many of us treat them with so much less respect; just look at the abundance of kerbed wheels and door dinging that takes place at your local Tesco car park. Today, cars are just tools to the majority, but in the 60s cars like the B were much more a part of us, demonstrating character and personality every time we sat behind the wheel. It's true cars have progressed so that driving has become little harder than walking, but I think it could be argued that this very progress, has also been a significant factor to their downfall.
So I say long live cars like the B, they're a permanent reminder of the past, and of how involving driving really once was.
So I say long live cars like the B, they're a permanent reminder of the past, and of how involving driving really once was.
