The MGB Experience

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about how I have always been intrigued with repairing things.  Since I was a kid, the challenge of taking a broken down item and making it work again would consume my thoughts until I succeeded or had to cry uncle.  When I wrote this, I was lamenting about my 1976 MGB restoration project that has just become such an albatross, that I threw in the towel and moved on to a 1979 MGB that I can actually drive. 

Well, the flat bed truck came this week and took away my '76.  It was a bittersweet moment as I helped push her on the "hearse" and loaded all of the doors and other large pieces of her onto the truck.  The time had come to say goodbye to an old friend.  If you have never driven a British sports car, then you may not understand my obsession.  They ride hard, they burn oil, they are not particularly fast off the block, and they can really be a pain in the ass to work on.  But, simply stated, they are the most fun car you can ever hope to drive.  They have a great sound, corner hard, and just seem to bring you back to a time when "motoring" was a hobby.  Stated differently, these cars force you to enjoy the journey, and not just focus on the destination.

And that is something I can use in today's fast pace.  I no sooner learn how to text, then I have to learn what tweeting is.  My Blockbuster store closed, and now I get movies from a Coke machine in the CVS parking lot.  My cell phone has maps and apps, and I have no idea how to use any of it, including the phone.  I buy books on the computer and buy computers in the bookstore. 

So it is nice to have something that has not changed in thirty something years.  I like the creaks and squeaks.  I like the smell of the burning oil.  I like the low technology of it. 

The bitter part of watching the '76 go was quickly replaced by the sweetness of a ride around town in the working '79.   I'll see you out there.