This is my story of infiltration of an MG at the VTR meet, meeting
fellow SOL'ers, and the Coup Flu.
My mission began Tuesday morning. I would be travelling undercover,
with 3 Triumphs. The first communique' came as I was about to depart- the
TR4 had a bearing failure. Suspect- water pump. After first being unable
to find a water pump locally, I got another report- it was the generator.
No problem, this is Lucas. I grabbed 2, added them to my supply of
survival materials, and headed to the rendezvous point where we proceded
to revive the failed TR. The convoy formed up, and we got underway. I rode
in a truck pulling a lightweight assult vehicle, (Rik's race prepped Spit)
with a ground assult vehicle (Vicki's street prepped Spit) in the lead.
After various maneuvers, we made a tactical stop for the night, and got
underway again Wed. morning. The convoy began to swell as we approached
our target, and we merged with other similar transports. I had a few
anxious moments upon entering the gathering area, as my obvious alliance was
questioned by the foreign troops. (I got several suggestions from insecure
TR owners to throw my MG hat in the pool. I might have followed...) I felt
somewhat better when I joined my unit (John L, Val, Captin Bobwrench,
mjb, Chris K, etc.) We worked on the supply of brew, then headed off
to a fine dinner at Chris' Moms. On the return, the group following in Johns
TR4 commented on the film of oil deposited on their windshield (and mjb,
hanging onto the roll bar in the rear) by Elizabeth. This theme would
continue throughout the week. Later I met Bill Sohl, who was pretty
busy every time we saw him. Maybe he'll get a much deserved rest, as
he has stepped down as VTR president, in order to have time to work on
his cars.
Thursday morning, and it was time for my solo mission to Bloomington
Indiana, and retreive my new car from Will Sadler's, which had been shipped
there from his dad in Texas. But there was a problem- Rik's truck was having
starting problems, and the clutch was of questionable status. This
was remedied by the generous substitution of John Lye's truck/trailer.
(Thanks again John, I owe you one) At this time, preliminary investigation
into Elizabeth's oil problems suggested bad rings. A set of .030 over
were ordered from TRF, in hopes of arriving and being installed in
time for the autox. Finally, after noon, I was off. This trip was
uneventful, other than a strong desire to be driving an LBC over twisty
route 46 to Bloomington, rather than a full rig. I arrived at Wills,
and after brief examination of his MGC in process of BRG paint, attended to
the job at hand, a '65 MGB, in factory rally colours (red w/white hardtop).
After 26 years of use, and not much work beyond older respray and dent repair,
it really needs a good refurbishing, but it's solid! And, most of the
chrome is decent. The years of Texas weather have been good to the body.
I loaded up the truck, and headed back.
Upon arrival back in Kentucky, I found the SOL's in a solid work
huddle around Bob's engine. The head came off, and promptly took a bite
out of it's owners hand. While he was tending his wounds, we examined the
bad news- new rings would do nothing to restore the chunk missing from
one of the pistons. As .030 over pistons were not about to be had, the
command decision was made, and the engine went back together. It was
time for Suds.
Friday, time for team.net.sol to do their thing. We were all at
the autox on time, but it wasn't. After looking at the old, worn bias
ply tyres, I decided the B wouldn't be up for comeptition that day, and
started in on work needed just to get me home, while the others waited
for the event to start. Two hours late, Val took control, Bob grabbed the
mike, and things got under way. I got hotter and greasier. Fresh oil for
the engine and transmission. Grease the stiff front end. Set the valves.
Check the usual stuff. Swap out the worn carbs for a fresh set. During
brief breaks, I enjoyed watching SOLers spinning around the course,
taking out cones, and blowing large plumes of smoke. It was amazing
to see Bob get a bit off, stop, back up, and continue, and still finish
with one of the faster times! Just as I finished bolting things back
together, I heard a call for all cars which had not yet run. Hmm.
Spare parts, tyres, and other loose bits flew from the trunk and interior.
Air in the tyres. Wipe off some of the grease and sweat, put back on my
Fizzball shirt, grab my helmet, and go. Car teched on the grid, up to the
line, and go. I managed to skip part of the course on the first run, and
the car had no grip. Second run, after getting a chance to think about
where I was going, I stayed on course, and slid around to a slow, but
reasonable finish. The MG had managed to infiltrate the Triumph competition,
and take 2nd in the open class. Maybe I'll let mr Mike P. tell you about
what mjb and I passed on the return trip, our red clown noses and all.
(Yes, Mark in an MG!) By this time, Bob's car was exuding a steady stream of
smoke, and was loosing all oil pressure. And, y'all know what happens when
you let all the smoke out...
Saturday, aside from the heat, I got some time to relax, and wander around
the concours and flea market. That, and a bit more work on the B, such as
soldering up a leaking radiator header tank, in preperation for my trip
back to NY. I even managed to sneak the 'B into a line concours TR's for
a while. A fine banquet, with a pile of trophys on the SOL table,
and a late night SOL meeting back at team.net headquaters finished up
events. I survived TR owners of various sorts. Everything from "Is that
an MGA?" to the guy with "I'd rather eat worms than drive an MG"
emblazened on the back of his jacket. (He must really eat worms!)
And, a non-stop flow of MG slams from the TR SOLers. You know- the
ones whose cars were spewing smoke, seizing starters, or didn't
even make it there!
I was destined to make the final leg home alone, as the various convoy
components were headed elsewhere that day. About 100 miles north, the
B suddenly began to lose power, and as I coasted to the shoulder, the
engine died. Foo! Something was wrong with both fuel and power. I checked
for leaks, found none. The battery was low- I had been running my lights
through morning fog. After tightening the generator belt, and still
needing a jump from a passing kind soul, the car fired right up,
but was barely charging. Other than that, the car was running great.
I needed another jump when I stopped for petrol, and continued to nurse
it homeward through the afternoon. The next time I stopped, with
darkness none too far off, I checked things out before turning off the
car. The generator was fine of course, as I still had a good spare.
A little tinkering on the regulator resulted in some improvement, and I
didn't need a jump. This improvement began to fade as I went on tho,
and I knew I couldn't run my headlights. Twilight was upon me as I
thankfully pulled into the South Lansing Centre. We had survived the
Triumphs, the Coup, and true to form, the old MG got me home.
Including our lowliest parts MGs, now we have 8! Truely a magic number.
Roger -At one with the Octagon- Garnett
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/ _ \ South Lansing Centre For Wayward Sports Cars
/ /|| \ \
| |\/ || _ | "All donations of stray, orphaned, odd, neglected, etc.
| | || | | sports cars and bits in need of a good home accepted."
\ ||__/ /
\________/ Safety Fast!
|