While we’re waiting for the intrepid carspotters to sort out the identity of yesterday’s “CPotD” here’s a car that creates no mystery: The Ubiquitous MG TD. This one was spotted at the All British Field Meet in Vancouver BC a few years back. I have no idea the origin or significance of the hood ornament, but it made this T-series car stand out from all the others. (Though to be honest, it looks cheap and plasticky on the car)
My father always loved MGs, and owned an MG A when he met my mom. So in some odd way I owe my very existence to Morris Garages in Abingdon-on-Thames, Berkshire (now Oxfordshire), UK. (So it is a slight irony I ended up living nearby when I moved to the UK in 1997!)
When I was a boy, my father had an MG B that he bought new, and drove every day to work. I don’t recall why he got rid of it, but not long after its departure the old MG fever hit him again and he found a tired old TD. I can still recall driving about an hour or so into Wisconsin from our home in northern Illinois to pick up the car. To my endless disappointment my older sister got to ride home with him and I was left to mope home with my mom in her ugly big blue early 70s Buick. That 1950 MG TD became our “ice cream” run, and “Sunday drive” car around the north Chicago suburbs and back roads. Dad eventually relented and agreed to carry the two of us, with either me or my sister sitting sideways in the TD’s odd little boot behind the seats. My memory is filled by the sound of the exhaust, the tick of the fuel pump, the octagonal motif throughout, the unique smell of the leather and woolen interior. The MG lasted a couple of summers, then the little engine threw a rod and required a complete rebuild. For the next year or so the TD became the subject of a restoration. The engine off at a mechanics shop, and the chassis dismantled and spread all around our suburban home; the garage, the basement, and occasionally to my mother’s chagrin, the family room. My father pored over Moss Motors and MG Mitten catalogs, and spewed all manner of new expletives into my young ears as he struggled with reassembly. While I am a passable mechanic when I put my mind to it, my father (bless his heart if he reads this) is basically a klutz. He did rise to the occasion though, and the car looked fantastic when he completed it; winning a “best in show” at a MG Club concours at it’s debut. The little red MG TD was a part of our family, moving with us to Texas, with MG Club gymkhanas, Sunday drives, and future fond memories. As we reached teenage driving age, it was used less and less though. My father’s job took more of his time and the car sat MG and more in the garage, under its “mitten”. It was shipped off to storage shortly after my parents caught my older sister out driving it around Houston in one of those “Risky Business” teenage moments. The MG TD vanished before I ever got my driver’s license, but it still left an impressive imprint on my mind, shaping a lot of my future.
I still smile whenever I see one.
