Try as I might, I cannot recall any of the many MGBs I looked at while searching for my first one. The car pictured is the one I ended up with, a ’74 with fake wire wheels (though they weren’t absolutely horrible). It was painted silver when I bought it, and I can remember the first glance I took of it. I was sold immediately, it just looked so great compared to what I had seen.

That I was able to buy the car was courtesy the bank of Rob, a friend who loaned me the money. Why people did this for me, I don’t know (Rob wasn’t the only enabler in my past). I wasn’t a good credit risk, especially when I didn’t make much money. In any case, I’m grateful, Rob. The guy who owned the MGB was a Frenchman who had to sell because he was moving to “Floor-REE-da.” He lived in a low-income housing project in west Seattle, which was a bit of an adventure when collecting my prize.

One day, as I was helping a friend move, the MG was was parked on the curb outside his house.

BANG-SCRAPE-SCRAPE-BANG

That was a woman striking the side of my car at about 5mph and continuing to drive until she was clear of it. She put a nice gouge in it, front to back, on the driver’s side.

The silver paint was somewhat faded, but her insurance company wouldn’t pay for an entire new paint job. I didn’t want a shiny side and a faded side, so I found a guy to paint the entire car for what a “real” shop wanted to do half. This was on recommendation, mind, but it was a horrible job. Oh, well, lesson learned. I have no idea why I went red, silver is a very handsome color on any car and you rarely see an MG painted that shade.

The bad paint job took the romance out of the car for me. It’s pictured here on a road trip my friend Corey and I took over the North Cascades Highway to go fishing. The car acquitted itself well, but was sold soon thereafter to make was for my 100-Six Healey.