It is fun listening to bob and Scott talk about the "true meanings"
of owning and caring for a British hunk of iron. One of the thoughts
expressed by both bothered me a little. Perhaps my situation is a bit
different.
For what it's worth, I almost added -- since I'd mentioned
my daughter already -- that when I was at the Bay Area SOL
gathering, I stopped beside your Seven with my little girl
in my arms. "One day," I told her, "your daddy is going to
face the choice of buying one of these cars or sending you to
the college of your choice. When that day comes, I want
you to think about all the many advantages of the California
state university system as compared to those snooty private
colleges."
My goal in life was to always own a car that would corner.
Not to put too fine a point on it, but one of my specific
goals ("own a car that corners" is a general goal for me,
too) is to own a Super Seven or authentic variant. It's
the car I'd buy first if I won the lottery tomorrow, or as
soon as I get enough in the savings account. I just hope
the prices stay within something approximating reason.
(On the other hand, do you suppose the credit union would
finance a new Caterham? Hmmm...)
But now to the point were I differ. I think the British car still
does things, the important things, as well as the modern day auto.
We do differ -- I think the British car does the *important*
things far, far better than the modern-day auto. Modern cars
are much better in certain ways, both subjective and objective.
The user interface, for the most part, is much better. In
some cases, the performance is much better. In some cases,
the reliability (or at least the degree to which you can
ignore the car) is much better. But those aren't the important
things -- they're just what make a better appliance.
My Super Seven will corner, brake, and steer as well as my Corvette.
With all due respect, Michael, that's like cloning Babe
Ruth and saying "Well, he hits about as well as Wade Boggs."
The Corvette and the Super Seven are arguably two of the top
production vehicles ever made. What's probably more to
the point is that the Seven isn't that different from its
original design in the late Fifties, while the Corvette of
1957-1960 was quite a different beast from yours.
On the other hand, I drove the MG exclusively for about two
weeks, at the end of which time I got back in the GTI -- my
autocross car, you may recall, with its adjustable shocks and
its Yokohama A008 tires -- and took it to work over my same
route, at the same speed. Fortunately, there was no damage
except for some iceplant stuck to the chassis...
It doesn't make sense. By no stretch of the imagination can
anyone guess that the MGB can outcorner a GTI. But I've spun
other cars on other occasions, in situations that my sports
cars would take with barely a hiccup. It's not just performance,
it's control, it's feel, it's unity -- it's the way the car
seems to anticipate your moves and cover up for your mistakes,
to forgive you your trespasses and to exalt your correct moves.
In autocrossing, I am able to run faster times in the Seven. The
performance envelope is the same until you get over 100mph and I
don't do that very often. While the performance is the same the
driving experience is opposite. The Seven has the wind in the face,
sun on you head, feeling every ripple and rock in the road feeling.
The Corvette isolates you, couches you in the womb and will only
let you know what is going on when you approach the limit. I can't
work on the "black box" but I can sure play with the toy, Seven.
Well, Michael, I don't disagree with you in the least -- I
just didn't get to that part of it. A few years ago, the
two cars I had were a 1984 SVO Mustang and a 1974 MG Midget.
I know *exactly* what you are talking about. The way I
have characterized it is that the Corvette and the SVO
performed because of their specifications, while the British
cars perform in spite of them.
In the case of the Lotus, that's less true because the power-
to-weight ratio makes it tough to miss on performance. But
with a fairly stock Midget, there's just no way of guessing
from the spec sheet that it's going to feel anything like it
does. You don't expect a sub-1300cc engine in a chassis with
lever shocks and a live rear axle on leaf springs to do the
kind of things it does.
Getting the parts right is more important than getting
the right parts. It's the *balance* in these British
cars (well, the MGs and the Lotuses -- I can't speak for
you guys with your Triumphs :-) that makes them the way they
are, that makes you feel that you can do no wrong in one
of them. The hallmark of MGs has always been the ability
to make a sudden correction of line in the middle of a
corner, if you've just realized it's not the way you
thought it was going to be, in spite of the fact that
you thought you were at the limit. It's hard to identify
just which components of a British car make it work as well
as it does, partly because they're all so antiquated by
today's standards that it's hard to take them seriously.
But they work so well together, as a system, that no single
part stands out. It's that sense of unity that sets them
apart.
The fact that they also respond so well to love, care, sweat
and late-night tinkering just makes them all the dearer.
Guess which one is for sale...
I understand the market for used Corvettes is a lot
better for the seller than it used to be... :-)
(Not that I imagine for a minute that you're selling the
Seven, but if you *are*, I want to hear about it first!
I'd sell all my cars except the MG to have a Seven. Hmmm...)
--Scott "but honey, Torrey loves to ride in the MG!" Fisher
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