When Does a Fifty-Year Love Affair Begin?

Well, for me it started in 1971. I was living with my parents in San Jose, California, and driving a 1939 Cadillac 60 Special to and from school. I was also restoring her. Well, I was working on all the mechanics.

My father was assisting with the work although some of his “help” was not appreciated. He had great ideas but in retrospect I should have said no. However, when he suggested that I buy a car to run back and forth to school, I responded with an enthusiastic yes. I was a sophomore at San Jose State, I wanted to restore the Cadillac, and I easily saw the wisdom of a cheap daily driver. It was also my chance to get a convertible.

We started looking. I was to receive about $1,000 and could use that for a car and expenses. Never mind what I saw (there was the Karmen Ghia with no engine, a Morris Minor that could be started with a screwdriver, and the like), and I finally went to see a second-owner MGA.

She was black, worked well, and I offered $300 to the asking of $325. I had turned down a similar one, reconditioned, for $400, as times were tight and $75 was a semester at college. The seller said no, and we were about to drive off when he changed his mind and said yes.

I drove my dad’s truck home and he took the MG. Mom declared “It’s adorable.” That was it — the MG had received the parental seal of approval. It needed everything cosmetic, but my father deemed it road-worthy. Yeah, right!

Well, the honeymoon was short lived. I soon regretted that I had not bought the MGA that was “restored” and came with the original tools. Mine needed new front brakes, as the old ones were frozen. The car also needed a top, the interior was shot, and the tonneau was from an Austen Healy and made to fit. Although I did not realize it at the time, the clutch was about gone. So much for my father’s pronouncements.

One of the first things I did (after a brake job and the first of many clutches) was to order a top from Vilem B. Hann. The original was rotten and I needed to get through a winter. Next came a new tonneau. At this point I wondered what car I was working on, but the MG got me through school.

Mornings were always a challenge. San Jose could be cold in the winter and MG’s tend to be temperamental. Mom would make my breakfast as I prepared for my first class. While I ate breakfast, she boiled water. Then as I got ready to leave, I would pop the hood and pour the boiling water over the intake manifold. Wow, the car started on the second try, just like clockwork. It was our morning routine.

My father had been a mechanic and was used to working on American cars, so naturally he thought he could help me rebuild the engine on mine. We’ll leave it at that, because a year later, with the car needing another clutch and burning oil, I had both the clutch and the engine professionally rebuilt.

I was an impecunious substitute teacher by then so Mom paid the bill. I later repaid her but now the car was ready for my upcoming commute to my new job, which was an hour away over Highway 17 and the Santa Cruz Mountains.

This was 1976 and a lot had happened since my purchase in 1970. I had to give up the Cadillac as I lost storage and would soon be moving to Watsonville, the city of my new job.

Things were looking up. I’d had the brakes redone, there were new tires, and the engine was dependable, even if the car tended to overheat regularly. One morning on my way to work, the new brakes locked and I burned them up just getting to a station in Santa Cruz. I was towed back to San Jose, where I discovered the shop had not set a lock nut on the master cylinder. They rebuilt the brakes and my parents bought me a new car for work — an AMC Hornet wagon (a real lemon) — so that I could keep and restore the MG.

Once I lived on the coast, the MG became my weekend and summer car. Watsonville is near Monterey Bay and the salt air was beginning to affect “Baby.” Even though I had dreams of a restored MG, the lure of older cars was still there and I acquired a 1923 Starr touring car.

I was back in the “CLASSIC CAR MODE” and work began on finishing a restoration that had begun on the Starr.
My father began with his usual enthusiasm for the project and assisted with making some of the missing parts but, as before, tired of the project and left me to fend for myself. Well, a major change was about to happen.

I realized that I was living in Watsonville only because I had a job there. I was working to stay somewhere I did not care about, so I made a major life choice and

established myself in the City-By-The-Bay. That was easier said than done — this was 1983 and the job market was thin — but I was employed and always had a roof over my head.

Getting the cars to San Jose was the real challenge. The Starr was quite drivable (as was the MG) so I drove the touring car to San Jose. Dad drove me back to Watsonville the next day to retrieve the MG.

Now this is a point where I need to digress. Modest work on the Starr had continued, but the MG needed a new top, new brakes, and possibly yet another new clutch. The new top was still in the box and I had no time to install it. I was moving in late December of 1982, so the weather was an issue. Naturally it began to rain.

The old joke about MG tops not leaking when it does not rain did not apply. There was no top. I dressed in my warmest London Fog, put on a plastic rain coat and hat, and Dad followed me to San Jose in the pouring rain.

The MG was not up to the climb over the Santa Cruz Mountains so I took the longer flat southern route. I have to admit that the rain stayed off me, as the aerodynamics of the car forced the water over the windscreen and away from me. It was not until I got to my parents’ driveway and parked that I got soaked. The deluge that had begun the day before continued for another two days. I dried out but not the MG. Fortunately, the tonneau was still operational, so I was able to keep the cockpit from being a bathtub.

I mentioned that the MG was not in any shape for the mountains, and actually it wasn’t ready for anything. It literally died in my parents’ driveway. No brakes, no clutch. I was moving to San Francisco so the car would have to stay in San Jose.

My parents had infinite patience but storing two cars was a bit much. They suggested I keep one and sell the other. The question was which one. Dad suggested I keep the one I would have the most fun with. That was it. I sold the Starr and the MG was moved into the garage.

I was fortunate as dad had a close mechanic friend who was willing to help work on the car. I would come down from San Francisco and take the car apart. The friend would then do what was necessary to make Baby street-worthy again. Let’s just say that if something looked worn, it got repaired or replaced, e.g., a cracked mount on the transmission, clutch, master cylinder, and so forth. The engine was in still in excellent shape due to the earlier rebuild. I got started and pulled the interior out of the car. I was preparing for the long haul.

Fast forward a few years and the MG was once again on the road. I now had a garage in San Francisco, and I drove the car to her new home. I lived in San Francisco for some thirty years and was always doing something on the MG. I finally decided she needed a paint job. There was some rust left over from the stay by Monterey Bay, and a huge dent in the front left fender. (I had parked the car on a residential street where I worked. Later that evening, an angry and possibly drunk neighbor got into his car and backed out of his driveway. He must have really been altered as his car had been in a closed garage. He started his car, drove through his garage doors and into the MG before driving off. I was away when it happened and did not notice the damage until the morning. I never saw the neighbor again.)

I now began the task of dismantling the car. I became intimately acquainted with every nut, bolt, and washer. I soon had a semi-dismantled car. It was together but everything was loose. Now the car was ready for a body shop. I had it towed (naturally) to a shop in Vallejo, which is about thirty miles north of San Francisco. The shop specialized in Alfa Romeos and other foreign cars, and I was confident of a satisfactory job. I did not want a concourse car – I wanted one that was fun and would turn heads.

The four months passed relatively fast. I made regular visits to the shop to check on the progress and finally received word that she was ready to come home. This was just at the end of the school year and I had the summer ahead of me.

The day arrived and Baby was delivered. We moved the car off the trailer and into the garage. Now I was going to reassemble her. Of course, I could put Baby back together — I took her apart, didn’t I? I spent the entire summer putting everything back and enjoying a very steep learning curve in the process. I finished the car after some three months and now Baby was ready for her close-up. I have to admit that I enjoyed the looks I got driving her around the neighborhoods.

The MG looked and drove beautifully. I was now going to finally redo the interior for the second and last time. I had it done in 1973 with a green Naugahyde that was close to original but now I wanted it done right. Well, as it turned out, that was going to have to wait.

If you ever had the pleasure of dealing with the battery situation on an MG, you know what was now facing me. I’m not sure how many batteries I replaced, but each set was just as bad as the last. The solution was simple — replace the two six-volt batteries with a single twelve-volt battery. Problem solved. I didn’t like the idea of that the original arrangement no longer existed, but I did enjoy a car that would start with regularity. The MG was seen on many streets of San Francisco over the next several years.

My very patient and understanding husband and I had discussed the possibility of leaving San Francisco. In 2018 we made the decision to sell the house and relocate to Palm Springs. Our new challenge was the move, including the MG. Baby was drivable and reliable but I was not ready to take her over the Grapevine, so I had the car trailered to Palm Springs.

I was panicking. Once here in Palm Springs, I knew we would not have room for three cars. The MG would have to be stored. The initial prospects, although cheap, would have meant the ruin of the car. Lucky for me, a friend of long standing knew of a storage garage run by a member of Great Autos of Yesterday. I contacted him and rented a space. That was the best of all worlds. Baby would be in the company of some fantastic cars as well as a temperature-controlled climate. The new location was right next door to Victor’s Automotive, an expert mechanic who enjoyed working on MG’s. Also, Heritage Upholstery was just a block away!

Finally, I could store the car, have it properly serviced, AND get it finished! It took about a year of getting settled and in 2020 the car made the one block trek to Heritage. It took a bit of persuading, but the owner, Tony Hazell, agreed to install the new interior — for a price of course.

I was again the helicopter owner, going over regularly to see the progress. Progress was again delayed as Covid 19 was of concern. We all took the proper precautions. Heritage had suspended operations and switched to making PPE and sanitizer for the Coachella Valley. These were given gratis to organizations in need. (Tony also makes craft vodka and gins under the name Modern Love.)

The day finally arrived. I paid the bill and claimed Baby. There were a few mechanical, mostly electrical, issues but Victor’s took care of those. I also had an auxiliary fan installed to assist the cooling system. I was not going to tempt fate with a car that runs hot and lives in Palm Springs.

Baby now quietly resides in her new storage home, and I get to visit her and take her out from time to time. A few of the details on the car: I have added a number of options not on the car originally, but managed to keep all serial numbers original. She is still the original black with green upholstery. I chose a sage green, as the only other color available was a candy apple green that looked terrible. The instrument panel is the original color.

I found a running board tool box from a 1932 Plymouth and painted it the same color as the instrument panel. It fits perfectly in the boot, and all tools necessary for the MG fit nicely as well.

Summer is around the corner, so watch out Palm Springs — Baby is back!