After finishing the iPod I made the mistake of telling myself I needed a bigger project.
Enter: the MGB.
What It Is
For the uninitiated, the MGB is a British sports car made by the British Motor Corporation from 1962 to 1980. Mine is a Mk II roadster, chrome bumpers, wire wheels, the whole deal. Acquired for a figure I'm not going to write down because my better judgment is reading over my shoulder.
It runs. I want to be clear about that. It runs in the way that a fireplace with a cracked flue runs — technically functional, occasionally alarming.
The Survey
I spent the better part of a Saturday afternoon under, over, and inside the thing with a torch and a screwdriver. Here's what I found:
The good:
- Original engine, matching numbers. This matters.
- Floors are solid. Genuinely solid — not just "solid with filler" solid.
- Overdrive gearbox works. Third and fourth with overdrive, as the gods intended.
- Hood is straight. Chrome has patina but no deep pitting.
The less good:
- Rear wheel arches have surface rust. Not through-rust, but it needs attention before it becomes through-rust.
- Front left sill has a soft spot. I poked it and regretted poking it.
- The carbs are running rich enough that the exhaust smells like a 1970s forecourt.
- Someone at some point installed the world's worst aftermarket radio and routed the wiring through half the dashboard.
The genuinely alarming:
- The wiring loom in general. British Leyland era wiring is a known quantity, and that quantity is "unreliable." Lucas electrics jokes exist for a reason.
The Plan
This isn't going to be a full restoration. I'm not trying to concours-correct every nut and bolt back to 1969 spec. I want a car that starts reliably, drives well, looks good, and can be enjoyed without constant anxiety.
Phase one is mechanical soundness: carbs rebuilt or replaced with a modern Weber conversion, brakes sorted front and rear, cooling system flushed, and the electrical gremlins at least catalogued if not yet exorcised.
Phase two is the bodywork: the sills, the wheel arches, whatever else the angle grinder reveals once I start properly looking.
The radio wiring is going in the bin immediately. That's not even a phase, that's just common decency.
What's Next
I'll be documenting this one as I go. These old British cars have a reputation for being difficult and that reputation is partly earned, but they also have a directness and a simplicity that modern cars have completely abandoned. Everything is accessible. Everything is fixable. The manual is honest.
More to follow.