It was my birthday present from the kids! An MGB Roadster for four days for me, and Rita my wife, to drive away to wherever we wanted - and there we were at The Open Road -  Classic Car Hire to start the adventure.

The Open Road - Classic Car Hire is based just off the Old Fosse near Warwick and, as Tony Merrygold, the creator and owner of The Open Road, dealt with the paperwork my excitement at what lay ahead was mounting. Strange really - given that an MGB compares just about as favourably with our S Type Jaguar as a wind-up record player does to an ipod but, nevertheless, I simply just could not wait to get my hands on what has probably become the best known icon in British sports cars.

The first thing I noticed, as soon as I turned the ignition key, was the rare sound of a proper internal combustion engine. Through the K&N air filters could be heard the impatient suck of twin SU carbs greedily snatching for oxygen like the lusty lungs of a marathon runner – it was a sound that took me back to the early sixties when first I heard the same sort of hisses and pops from the twin carbs on my 650 Triumph.

So after bidding our farewells to Tony and his wife Elaine it was time for action. The clutch was surprisingly light I thought as I eased the short gearstick into first and, as we gently pulled away, the sounds and the unique smell of an car old nostalgically whisked me back three and a half decades – yes – this was Heartbeat for real!

We trickled slowly along the lane that leads towards the Old Fosse and slowed before turning right to join the main road. I shifted into second gear and accelerated hard not expecting to be pushed back into my seat – I was not disappointed! Third and fourth gears were found with ease and then, with a flick of the overdrive switch we settled down to a steady 60mph and by this time, some three minutes into the run, I had already made up my mind that “yes” – here we have a proper motor car!

It must be an age thing – in fact it can only be an age thing! – who other than someone who cut their teeth on cars without servo assisted brakes and steering could ever come to terms with an MGB and call it a “proper motor car”?

Well there are plenty of under 40’s that do apparently but, as the Fosse Way sped past just 6 inches beneath our posteriors, the grin on my face just spread wider and wider and for the first time in years I was really beginning to enjoy myself again on 4 wheels.

We were heading for Bridport in Dorset with an overnight stop with Rita’s aunt at Bradford-on-Avon – the route was chosen to avoid motorways and dual carriageways so the combination of sweeping A roads, twisty B roads and threading through of some tiny villages all seemed entirely in keeping with the pre-motorway era when the MGB was in it’s heyday.

At this point I have to say that it was with some trepidation that Rita had agreed to take part in this mission so, after 15 minutes or so, I risked a sidewards glance to see if the silence emanating from the passenger seat was ominous or otherwise! 

It was our daughter’s fault really as she has one of those Smart cars – the sports car version - and she drives it everywhere like a demon and it was in this that Rita developed her fear of heights. Low heights that is! Rita was convinced that any device with a similarly miniscule amount of ground clearance would provide the same terror provoking ride – silly her!

But the sidewards glance revealed no hint of a problem. No anxious chewing on one side of the bottom lip, no frantic depressions of an imaginary footbrake and even her knuckles were the correct colour – all must be well?

These were my thoughts but I needed confirmation however - and then it came. “Beatrice” she said – that’s her name but we will call her Bea’ for short. The words were semi-drowned out by the growl of the engine and the howl of the wind but I heard OK and her words had confirmed to me that she was actually enjoying the experience as in 38 years only a handful of our vehicles have been given the honour of a name - and they have only ever been the ones that she has really liked!

There was the 350 AJS – this became “Cecil” - she liked it as it was “slow and ponderous like the Cecil in her office at work”, then there was “Clarice” her first car – an Austin 1100, “Gunter” a VW beetle and various other namers before now arriving with “Beatrice” – the MGB that was now, it seemed, as busy endearing itself to Rita as it was to me.

Moreton in Marsh soon appeared and it was time for a coffee stop. Slowing to a respectable 10mph or so we looked for a parking space and, just as we had decided that all the spaces were occupied, like buses, two appeared together.

The two spaces were at an angle to the kerb chevron style but did I pull neatly into the first one leaving the second one available for someone else? No – the superhuman strength needed to turn Bea’s wheel at slow speed caught me completely by surprise and she ended up straddling the two spaces like a people carrier on Tesco carpark.

I had a choice – I could acknowledge my error and try again or I could make out it was a deliberate parking move for such a worthy vehicle and nonchalantly swagger off like I owned the place! I pondered for a nano-second or so and chose the latter - although the nonchalance bit suffered significantly when I remembered that there was no central locking that could be operated from a safe distance and that a total of 3 keys were needed to secure the two doors and the boot. Needless to say the walk back to the car and the key fumbling during the next 2 minutes proved conclusively to any onlookers that the knobhead in the MGB was just about as capable with a bunch of keys as he was at parking a small motor car!

After the coffee we pressed on. Bea’ behaved impeccably and we arrived at Bradford-on-Avon in time for lunch as planned. The next day we made an early start and by mid-afternoon, following a leisurely drive through Wiltshire, Somerset & Dorset we arrived at our hotel in Bridport.

As a keen biker, just back from a 3500 mile tour of Europe, I was totally unsure as to how I would cope with the MG. Would it be the nostalgia trip I had imagined or would I be frustrated to hell because I couldn’t get past anything other than the odd combine harvester or Reliant Robin?

On a decent bike nothing is much of a threat to progress, traffic jams just don’t exist and the sheer freedom of just to be able to go and not get held up is something that only folks that have tried it are able to appreciate. My family know all about this and they know also I possess an ability to grow horns when behind the wheel - so I think they were taking bets on how I would cope with the 35 year old technology of the MG.

But how would I cope? I was not going to find out unless I tried it and now I was doing just that and, I must admit, I was pleasantly surprising myself.

Why is no one holding me up I wondered?

Why am I putting up with this lorry in front?

Where have all the people gone that I normally need beat away from the lights?

Why do I feel so relaxed and stress free?

All these questions occurred to me as we bimbled along and yet the answer is blindingly obvious – MGB’s were not made to compete with today’s traffic and, because of that you are not even tempted to try, or at least I wasn’t!

It was clear therefore, after our first full day on the Dorset coast, that it was going to be a definite thumbs up for Bea’ and the promise that an MGB Roadster of our own might hold for us in the future.

The remainder of the trip went without incident and it was a sad moment when we had to return Bea’ to Warwick and hand back the keys to Tony Merrygold. We had covered 450 miles and in the process we had a lot of fun.

All we want now is our own “Beatrice” so that we can repeat the operation whenever we like and then, who knows, perhaps the next time we are in Europe we will be on 4 wheels!

( © copyright Stuart Irving – July 2005)