MGB GT -original post date 4/24/2013
Keeping
with the hatchback trend I’ve got going on, I present my very own
1969/1971 MGB-GT. You’ll note the inclusion of two model years there…
that’s because my car is registered as a ‘71 model because its frame is
from a ‘71 MG, but everything else about it is 1969. I usually just tell people it’s a ‘69 because aside from the VIN, it is.
The MGB was a roadster that was brought to the market in 1962 by the British Motor Corporation/British Motor Holdings/British Leyland Motor Corporation (apparently, there were some corporate shake-ups along the line). The MGB took the place that had been occupied by the exquisite MGA roadster, and brought with it monocoque design instead of body-on-frame structure as well as 2+2 seating.
In 1965, the fixed roof version of the MGB hit the sales floor and was called the MGB GT. The greenhouse of the MGB GT was worked on by a design firm out of Cambiano, Italy known as Pininfarina -a name you may have heard of, as they’ve done beautiful automotive design for many car companies, from Cadillac to Ferrari.
Measuring just under 13 feet long and 5 feet wide, with a weight of just barely over one ton, these cars were light (not as light as the roadster version, but close) and nimble. Under its hood -or perhaps I should say “bonnet” since these are British cars- is a 1800 cubic centimeter engine (remember the mention of the Volvo P1800 from the Volvo C30 post? That 1800 in the name means these cars had the same sized engine)… Actually, if we are being exact, the MG has a 1798 cc engine -but it just doesn’t have the same ring as 1800 now, does it? That means it’s just under 110 cubic inches, or 1.8 liters. The 1800 cc engine was a little zinger back in its day, and propelled the MGB GT along with 95 HP and 110 lb ft of torque for a top speed of just over 100 MPH and low 20’s/high 20’s for city/hwy driving -though I used to go back and forth between Nebraska and Iowa with mine and topped 30 MPG pretty often with highway driving. That’s probably due in part to one thing that makes my car a bit rare among MGs. Mine is one of the 20% of MGs ever made that features overdrive -it’s an uncommon and quite desirable feature of these cars.
Overdrive lets a car cruise with a lower RPM (engine revolutions per minute), so it uses less gas and does a lot less grunting and groaning as you go. Think of it as kind of like having a bonus gear to shift up into for highway driving. MGBs came with 4 speed manual transmissions, so having that “bonus gear” of overdrive is a pretty nice thing. In my MG, the switch that engages overdrive is a little stalk that protrudes from the right side of the steering column, and it can be engaged in 3rd or 4th gears.
I consider the MGB-GT to be the grandfather of the modern hot hatch. Though these little cars could easily be overrun by their modern day offspring, for its time, the MGB GT was considered to be quite the brisk little sports car. Where little British cars tend to shine is not in brute force or driving in straight lines, but rather, in handling and zipping around curves and through peaks and valleys. These are cars you drive for pleasure, fun, and a bit of exhilaration -not so much for white-knuckle thrills and break-neck speeds.
The 2+2 seating layout of the interior meant that this was a practical sports car -unless you actually had to ride in the back seat -then it was pretty awful. The seating, much like the windshield wipers and defroster are more ornamentation than functional aspects. You ought not to count on them to actually work, though when you’re trying to convince yourself to buy one of these things, you’ll use them as justifications for how the car will be more than just a pretty little brat that will make you late to work because it won’t start when it’s supposed to. The back seat really, is more of a decoration that’s in place to hide the two batteries that are mounted underneath it. The wipers move a bit, but won’t actually clean your windscreen -which is why you keep a bottle of Rain-X and apply it regularly to the glass, and the defroster will spit out a bit of warm air, but not enough to defog the windows if anybody inside the vehicle actually wants to inhale and exhale.
I bought mine several years ago from a family friend who had a collection of MGs. We had bonded over the fact that we both drove black Jeep Cherokees at the time and that commonality opened the door for him sharing his MG collection with me. He was willing to part with the GT because he was a tall guy and fit better in his roadsters (provided the top was down). Besides, he had used the GT as his winter driver, so the body had some issues with rust. Brand new back in 1969, the GT probably cost between $3,000-4,000 depending on the options. I paid him $500 for the car and started out for home with it. Just a few miles out, the car ceased functioning and had to be towed the rest of the way. At home, I discovered that my MG was being starved of gas due to the suction created in the fuel system when the gas cap was on tight. I handled that issue, and soon after, the fuel pump gave out. The pumps these cars come with are finicky things that are made more complicated than need be, so I yanked that out from under the car and replaced it with a much simpler pump I bought at the auto parts store that is more commonly used on Japanese imports. The sending unit on the fuel tank never did work as it should even after I bought a brand new one, so I can never tell exactly how much gas I have left in the tank and have to judge more by how many miles are on the car than by what the fuel gauge says. I’ve dumped tons of cash and time into fixing things that go wrong on my MG, and I still have a long way to go -in part now thanks to my dad backing into the rear fender with his car -so add some more body work to that list of things to do.
At one point, the head cracked and I had to pull it off, bring it in and have it magnafluxed to find the crack, then have it repaired. I painted it before I reinstalled it, and chose a cherry red for the color as a kind of joke, so I could say that I had a Testarossa -which means “red head” in Italian and would imply something a bit more potent than a little 1800 cc engine. I spiffed up the look of things under the hood by incorporating that same red engine paint on the air intakes for my SU carburetors and in various other places. I know it’s not in keeping with how things originally looked, but my car isn’t a numbers matching vehicle anyway, so I do what I want -though I try to keep the outward appearance of the vehicle pretty much as the designers meant it to look.
You’re probably getting the impression that MGs are perhaps not the most reliable of vehicles -and you’d be right. I have a very adversarial relationship with my MG. On one hand, I love and admire the little ripper, but on the other hand, it gives me no end of aggravation and frustration. I’ve been through a lot with my MG and have -through force of necessity- learned a lot from it as well. I love the car, but it’s best if you think of it like a friend who you enjoy hanging out with, but who is also self-absorbed and completely unreliable. Don’t call them if you need to be bailed out of a situation because they’ll probably let you down. Keep things casual though, and the relationship will flourish. Aside from actual problems, these cars are just temperamental. One morning, it will seem to decide it just doesn’t feel like starting. Come back an hour later and it will pep right up and run like its earlier automotive temper tantrum never happened. You never know what kind of mood these cars will be in, so it’s best to keep one as a secondary vehicle rather than rely on it as a daily driver.
I’d venture to say that if not for the attractiveness of them, nearly each and every MG would probably have been sent to the junkyard by now thanks to how frustrated they can make their owners. Years back, I decided I was going to embark on a little documentary film project. I set up the rules like this: I would take off one day in my MG and travel as far as the little car would take me before it broke down. I made sure I added towing to my insurance (which you should always have with any little British car, anyway -you’ll need it) and loaded up my luggage. I started my camera rolling as I took off from home, excited about the project. I made it just about a mile before my car conked out, and so the bulk of the footage that would have been my MG roadtrip documentary (working title was “The Junker Junket”) consisted of me at the side of the road fuming at my little car, calling it pretty much every four letter word I could come up with. It would have been the shortest and most profanity-laden documentary film ever, so the idea for the film was scrapped.
The good news was that I had broken down just about two blocks from a body shop where I was friends with the owners. They took pity on me and pulled my MG up onto their flat bed and hauled it back home for free. I was so disgusted by the ruination of my documentary project that I could barely stand to look at my car, and I didn’t touch it for two months. Finally, I decided to forgive the MG and started poking around to figure out just what had gone wrong. It turned out to be the simplest thing. One of the wires powering the fuel sending unit had broken off, and after soldering it back in place, the car worked once more. I never did pick up with the Junker Junket project again, as a certain trust had been violated between my MG and I, and so, that was that for my documentary film making days.
In conclusion, the MGB GT is a fun, but not particularly reliable little car. It will make you fall in love with it, only to break your heart with its perpetual tantrums and spurning of your attempts to spend quality driving time with it. They’re not particularly valuable, but not junk either, and they can be money pits. If the MGB GT was a person you were dating, all your friends would be telling you to break up with it, because it just doesn’t treat you right… but you wouldn’t take that advice. Those times when thing are good with the MG are just too good to walk away from. The thought of parting ways will make you weep when you think of missing out on the throaty little howl of its engine, the sensation it give you when you’re whipping and winding around curves, and the swell of affection you feel just gazing at its beautifully rendered compact form. I can’t wholeheartedly say I recommend ownership of such a car, but I can say that for all the trouble it’s been, I don’t regret having mine.
The MGB was a roadster that was brought to the market in 1962 by the British Motor Corporation/British Motor Holdings/British Leyland Motor Corporation (apparently, there were some corporate shake-ups along the line). The MGB took the place that had been occupied by the exquisite MGA roadster, and brought with it monocoque design instead of body-on-frame structure as well as 2+2 seating.
In 1965, the fixed roof version of the MGB hit the sales floor and was called the MGB GT. The greenhouse of the MGB GT was worked on by a design firm out of Cambiano, Italy known as Pininfarina -a name you may have heard of, as they’ve done beautiful automotive design for many car companies, from Cadillac to Ferrari.
Measuring just under 13 feet long and 5 feet wide, with a weight of just barely over one ton, these cars were light (not as light as the roadster version, but close) and nimble. Under its hood -or perhaps I should say “bonnet” since these are British cars- is a 1800 cubic centimeter engine (remember the mention of the Volvo P1800 from the Volvo C30 post? That 1800 in the name means these cars had the same sized engine)… Actually, if we are being exact, the MG has a 1798 cc engine -but it just doesn’t have the same ring as 1800 now, does it? That means it’s just under 110 cubic inches, or 1.8 liters. The 1800 cc engine was a little zinger back in its day, and propelled the MGB GT along with 95 HP and 110 lb ft of torque for a top speed of just over 100 MPH and low 20’s/high 20’s for city/hwy driving -though I used to go back and forth between Nebraska and Iowa with mine and topped 30 MPG pretty often with highway driving. That’s probably due in part to one thing that makes my car a bit rare among MGs. Mine is one of the 20% of MGs ever made that features overdrive -it’s an uncommon and quite desirable feature of these cars.
Overdrive lets a car cruise with a lower RPM (engine revolutions per minute), so it uses less gas and does a lot less grunting and groaning as you go. Think of it as kind of like having a bonus gear to shift up into for highway driving. MGBs came with 4 speed manual transmissions, so having that “bonus gear” of overdrive is a pretty nice thing. In my MG, the switch that engages overdrive is a little stalk that protrudes from the right side of the steering column, and it can be engaged in 3rd or 4th gears.
I consider the MGB-GT to be the grandfather of the modern hot hatch. Though these little cars could easily be overrun by their modern day offspring, for its time, the MGB GT was considered to be quite the brisk little sports car. Where little British cars tend to shine is not in brute force or driving in straight lines, but rather, in handling and zipping around curves and through peaks and valleys. These are cars you drive for pleasure, fun, and a bit of exhilaration -not so much for white-knuckle thrills and break-neck speeds.
The 2+2 seating layout of the interior meant that this was a practical sports car -unless you actually had to ride in the back seat -then it was pretty awful. The seating, much like the windshield wipers and defroster are more ornamentation than functional aspects. You ought not to count on them to actually work, though when you’re trying to convince yourself to buy one of these things, you’ll use them as justifications for how the car will be more than just a pretty little brat that will make you late to work because it won’t start when it’s supposed to. The back seat really, is more of a decoration that’s in place to hide the two batteries that are mounted underneath it. The wipers move a bit, but won’t actually clean your windscreen -which is why you keep a bottle of Rain-X and apply it regularly to the glass, and the defroster will spit out a bit of warm air, but not enough to defog the windows if anybody inside the vehicle actually wants to inhale and exhale.
I bought mine several years ago from a family friend who had a collection of MGs. We had bonded over the fact that we both drove black Jeep Cherokees at the time and that commonality opened the door for him sharing his MG collection with me. He was willing to part with the GT because he was a tall guy and fit better in his roadsters (provided the top was down). Besides, he had used the GT as his winter driver, so the body had some issues with rust. Brand new back in 1969, the GT probably cost between $3,000-4,000 depending on the options. I paid him $500 for the car and started out for home with it. Just a few miles out, the car ceased functioning and had to be towed the rest of the way. At home, I discovered that my MG was being starved of gas due to the suction created in the fuel system when the gas cap was on tight. I handled that issue, and soon after, the fuel pump gave out. The pumps these cars come with are finicky things that are made more complicated than need be, so I yanked that out from under the car and replaced it with a much simpler pump I bought at the auto parts store that is more commonly used on Japanese imports. The sending unit on the fuel tank never did work as it should even after I bought a brand new one, so I can never tell exactly how much gas I have left in the tank and have to judge more by how many miles are on the car than by what the fuel gauge says. I’ve dumped tons of cash and time into fixing things that go wrong on my MG, and I still have a long way to go -in part now thanks to my dad backing into the rear fender with his car -so add some more body work to that list of things to do.
At one point, the head cracked and I had to pull it off, bring it in and have it magnafluxed to find the crack, then have it repaired. I painted it before I reinstalled it, and chose a cherry red for the color as a kind of joke, so I could say that I had a Testarossa -which means “red head” in Italian and would imply something a bit more potent than a little 1800 cc engine. I spiffed up the look of things under the hood by incorporating that same red engine paint on the air intakes for my SU carburetors and in various other places. I know it’s not in keeping with how things originally looked, but my car isn’t a numbers matching vehicle anyway, so I do what I want -though I try to keep the outward appearance of the vehicle pretty much as the designers meant it to look.
You’re probably getting the impression that MGs are perhaps not the most reliable of vehicles -and you’d be right. I have a very adversarial relationship with my MG. On one hand, I love and admire the little ripper, but on the other hand, it gives me no end of aggravation and frustration. I’ve been through a lot with my MG and have -through force of necessity- learned a lot from it as well. I love the car, but it’s best if you think of it like a friend who you enjoy hanging out with, but who is also self-absorbed and completely unreliable. Don’t call them if you need to be bailed out of a situation because they’ll probably let you down. Keep things casual though, and the relationship will flourish. Aside from actual problems, these cars are just temperamental. One morning, it will seem to decide it just doesn’t feel like starting. Come back an hour later and it will pep right up and run like its earlier automotive temper tantrum never happened. You never know what kind of mood these cars will be in, so it’s best to keep one as a secondary vehicle rather than rely on it as a daily driver.
I’d venture to say that if not for the attractiveness of them, nearly each and every MG would probably have been sent to the junkyard by now thanks to how frustrated they can make their owners. Years back, I decided I was going to embark on a little documentary film project. I set up the rules like this: I would take off one day in my MG and travel as far as the little car would take me before it broke down. I made sure I added towing to my insurance (which you should always have with any little British car, anyway -you’ll need it) and loaded up my luggage. I started my camera rolling as I took off from home, excited about the project. I made it just about a mile before my car conked out, and so the bulk of the footage that would have been my MG roadtrip documentary (working title was “The Junker Junket”) consisted of me at the side of the road fuming at my little car, calling it pretty much every four letter word I could come up with. It would have been the shortest and most profanity-laden documentary film ever, so the idea for the film was scrapped.
The good news was that I had broken down just about two blocks from a body shop where I was friends with the owners. They took pity on me and pulled my MG up onto their flat bed and hauled it back home for free. I was so disgusted by the ruination of my documentary project that I could barely stand to look at my car, and I didn’t touch it for two months. Finally, I decided to forgive the MG and started poking around to figure out just what had gone wrong. It turned out to be the simplest thing. One of the wires powering the fuel sending unit had broken off, and after soldering it back in place, the car worked once more. I never did pick up with the Junker Junket project again, as a certain trust had been violated between my MG and I, and so, that was that for my documentary film making days.
In conclusion, the MGB GT is a fun, but not particularly reliable little car. It will make you fall in love with it, only to break your heart with its perpetual tantrums and spurning of your attempts to spend quality driving time with it. They’re not particularly valuable, but not junk either, and they can be money pits. If the MGB GT was a person you were dating, all your friends would be telling you to break up with it, because it just doesn’t treat you right… but you wouldn’t take that advice. Those times when thing are good with the MG are just too good to walk away from. The thought of parting ways will make you weep when you think of missing out on the throaty little howl of its engine, the sensation it give you when you’re whipping and winding around curves, and the swell of affection you feel just gazing at its beautifully rendered compact form. I can’t wholeheartedly say I recommend ownership of such a car, but I can say that for all the trouble it’s been, I don’t regret having mine.
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