Have your say: January 2008
Many people write in to AROnline, and everyone has something good to contribute.
Many people write in to tell us how much they love the site, or they have something to say about its content, and sometimes merely to tell their story. So we've put another page up just for you - if you write in, and what you have to say is interesting, factual, or simply offering an opinion, we'll publish it here - and where possible, respond with some comments.
So, if you have something to say, get your thinking caps on...
Also, if you want to write, but don't want to see it here, mark it, 'not for publication...'
12 January
MGF is pure Honda
DAVID C PITT
I HAVE been reading your piece in the lineage of the MGF, and would like to point out a very glaring omission.
The MGF was, in fact, a scaled-up COPY of the Honda Beat. The Honda Beat was produced from 1991 to 1995, and was the first production convertible with a mid- engine layout, that used a monocoque construction. It was also the last car approved personally by Sichiro Honda. It was originally designed by Pininfarina. When Rover and Honda were co-operating, before the takeover by BMW, an example of a Beat was brought over from Japan.
The Rover engineers liked what they saw, and decided that a larger version, with a bigger engine, should be the template for the new MG. None of the features, construction methods, etc. from the show cars you listed as being the supposed ancestors of the MGF are shared by it, whereas a careful look at both cars will convince even the most one-eyed observer that the Beat is the true parent of the MGF.
While you may be reluctant to admit that in the sunset of the admittedly illustrious MG marque, a design was copied from Japan, The Honda Beat was a truly remarkable motor car, more special and unique in most ways than the MGF. Honda only stopped making it because it was too expensive to make and too well engineeered for the market segment it was serving in Japan. I attach a few pictures of my Beat for you to ponder over.
Also, you should take a look at Wikipedia.
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Feedback
The assertion that the MGF was a scaled up Honda Beat is... quite simply just that - an assertion. It's almost as bad as the claim often heard that the Rolls-Royce V8 was a copy of certain GM V8; or in fact any other american V8.
If you are going to make a small mid-tranverse engined two-seater, there are going to be simialrities, notably the number of seats, and the position of the engine, this arrangement of the mechanical componants will also dictate to a certain extent the overall proportions of the car, in much the same way as a pushrod V8 will look initially very similar to another pushrod V8.
What is possibly true is Rover saw the Beat, and it reminded them that this was the sort of car MG should be making. It is highly unlikley to be 'just a scaled up copy', which is fact it patently isn't. We might as well claim the Citroen XM is a copy of the Rover 800 Fastback - After all, it's also a five-door hatch, front wheel drive, and has transverse engines... it's so obvioulsy a copy!
STEWART WELLER
This email is sent as feedback on David C Pitt's 12 January 2008 article titled 'MGF is pure Honda', and particularly his claim that "[t]he Honda Beat was produced from 1991 to 1995, and was the first production convertible with a mid-engine layout, that used a monocoque construction".
Presumably, David has excluded cars such as the Dino 246 GTS (1971 to 1974 - 1,274 produced) and the Pontiac Fiero (1984 to 1990) because they do not have a true monocoque chassis. Presumably, David also believes the second generation Toyota MR2 (1990 to 1999) with the 'T-top' roof is not a true 'convertible' (the first generation MR2 was essentially a closed car). However, David does not appear to allow for the Fiat XI/9 (1972 to 1989), unless he maintains that the 'targa' roll-over bar on the X1/9 means it is also not a true 'convertible'. With respect, that is really splitting hairs.
I also agree with Stewart Weller that the differences between the Beat and the MGF are simply too extensive to allow the MGF to be characterised as a 'scaled up' copy of the Honda Beat. Indeed, I find it much easier to see the influence of the similarly-sized Fiat X1/9 and first generation Toyota MR2 (1984 to 1989) in the concept of the MGF. I also note that the Austin>Rover website page on the MGF/MG TF 'Development Story' states, in part, that "[the MGF prototype] PR3 was produced by the Luton-based automotive consultants ADC and was a mid/rear design, echoing the layout of the Fiat X1/9 and Toyota MR2".
PAUL SHANAHAN, Perth Australia
4 January
My trip to Coventry
RICHARD TRUETT
AS I sit here freezing in Detroit -- it currently 15 degrees F outside and a thick blanket of snow is covering the ground -- I am thinking about my favourite classic car activities of 2007. I did something brave for me, or maybe anyone: I drove my restored 1977 Dolomite Sprint some 1300 miles to attend the Vintage Triumph's Register's yearly convention. The event, which attracted 300 or so of the best Triumphs in North America was held in Pennsylvania, just a few miles from Valley Forge, on whose grounds some important revolutionary war battles were fought. The Vintage Triumph Register is the national club for Triumph owners, and it has chapters in every state.
Some might think it would be crazy to drive the Dolly so far when there is not one spare part on a shelf anywhere on this continent. Believe me, I was a little worried. But the Sprint performed perfectly, delivering outstanding fuel economy of better than 35mpg and never missing a beat. Of course, it was the only Dolly Sprint at the show. As you know, this Triumph was never sold in the States.
My job at the convention was to be the official blogger. That was the opportunity I needed to share what was a dream come true for me: I spent a week in Coventry, visiting the old Triumph factory grounds at Canley, The Coventry Transport Museum, Gaydon and several other places around the city. If you have not been to The Coventry Transport Museum, you must go. There is no admission charge, or there wasn't when I visited, and the display of Coventry's place in British transportation history is somewhere beyond excellent.
Anyway, one of the blogs I wrote at the convention pays homage to Triumph and I want to share it with you to give you a flavor of the passion that still burns here in the USA for the Triumph marque. Hopefully, BMW will see fit to use the name on a suitable range of sports cars and saloons in the future. The way I see it, Triumph under BMW could be another money-spinner, just like MINI...
VALLEY FORGE, Penn. — Exactly one year ago today, I could be found in Coventry, England realizing a 25-year dream: To visit the place where Triumph cars were built. The factory at Canley is long gone. In its place is large industrial park. In spending an afternoon walking around this large complex, I could see only three buildings with any connection to Triumph: A small ivy covered cottage near the train station with yellow sign over the gate that said 'Triumph House,' a huge warehouse with UNIPART on the sign and the Triumph factory’s social and recreation club, still with the original sign over the doorway. It’s now a bingo hall, and there is not even a picture of a Triumph car on any of the walls.
There were other reminders of activities that took place on those grounds — hallowed grounds, to me — from 1923-1980, the years Triumph cars were built on the site. In front of a daycare center, there was the bright silver Standard-Triumph monument, and the streets were named after cars. There was Herald Avenue, Spitfire Close, Vanguard Way, Dolomite Avenue and others.
I stayed at a small bed-and breakfast not far from Canley. The proprietor, a youngish lady from a different part of England, asked why in the world would an American want to spend a week in Coventry. I explained that I collect and restore Triumph cars, which used to be built there. She probably thought I was a bit odd, but, she never let on.
In walking around the old Triumph grounds, it occurred to me that the thousands of employees who built our TRs and Spitfires, Stags and Heralds, likely had no idea they were doing anything special. They were just going to work and doing their jobs. They could not know that decades later, people in other parts of the world would give up weeks of their lives and drive hundreds of miles to convene in far away hotel parking lots to celebrate their work.
But that’s what we are doing here this week in Valley Forge. I look out at a parking lot and see nearly 300 Triumphs, some in pristine, concours condition, some daily drivers, and others pretty beat up. But they are all loved.
You can’t say that about 99 percent of all Toyotas ever built.
Here at the VTR are some of the most gorgeous TR6s I’ve ever seen, including a blue 1972 car with Lucas fuel injection. There’s a museum quality red TR5, left-hand drive, a stunning laurel green 1970 Spitfire, two mint condition Triumph Italias, two prewar Triumphs, a Gloria and a Southern Cross, a red Herald wagon, 20 Stags, a pair of race-prepared GT6s and numerous TR3s that look so clean they could have been transported through time directly from a 1960 showroom.
I listen to the Triumphs driving by and I hear the unmistakable rasp of a TR6 or the rumble of a Triumph-powered Stag. I think of the dads and sons in their garages all over the UK and USA restoring their Triumphs. I see the enthusiasm of the people here at the VTR convention. Once again, I think of the workers who built our cars. They should be proud for building a brand of cars that move people in so many ways today.
The factory may be gone. The name may be owned and forever mothballed by BMW. And two generations of drivers may have never even heard of our cars. But that doesn’t matter.
As Triumph owners and enthusiasts, we are the custodians of the Triumph brand, not BMW. As long as we keep our cars running and use them and show them off, we honour the workers that built them, and, more importantly, Triumph lives.
A small correction to Richard Truett's article about his visit to Coventry. It was the Standard Marque that was built at Canley from 1923.
As you are aware the Triumph brand was independent until 1939 and Standard bought the brand and commenced making Triumph Roadster, Renown and Mayflower in 1947. I make the point once again for the Triumph people that it is unlikely the Triumph name would have continued had it not been for the Standard Motor Company stepping in in the difficult period after the war.
IAN LEGGETT, Standard Motor Club.
2 January
My love affair...
EVER since Keith Adams asked if I would become AROnline's eyes and ears in America, I have been struggling with a way to introduce myself so I that convey to you just how influential the products of BL and Austin-Rover have been in changing the trajectory of my life. It is not an exaggeration to say that I would not be the man I am today were it not for British Leyland. You see, I fell in love with its sports cars in my younger years, and from there nothing was ever the same for me. Probably more than half of all the money I have ever earned has gone for BL cars and spares. BL vehicles were never just cars to me.
In the States, if you drove an MG or Triumph or had a Rover sedan, you were part of a different crowd. You had friends everywhere you went. You thumbed your nose at the mainstream. You traded a little (okay, maybe a lot) of reliability that you'd get in an American or Japanese car for the style and character of the British one.
If you will bear with me for about 10 minutes, I can show you how the cars from BL and Austin-Rover changed lives in America. There are people like me in almost every city and town in America who call tell you some great tale about the MG or Triumph they owned. Here's my story...
WE'VE heard stories about people who rescue old cars from abuse, neglect or some other calamity. But until recently, I didn’t know that just the opposite was true, that cars can rescue people. Twice in 20 years, and with unbelievably impeccable timing in both instances, the same brown 1971 Triumph TR6 appeared in my life in critical moments.
In the spring of 1983 I had just bailed out of my college accounting class for the second time. I owned two Ford Mustangs, a 1966 2+2 Fastback and a rumbling 1967 GTA. I didn’t care much about British cars thanks to a rotten experience five years before with a 1973 MG Midget. That car must have been built in the Devil’s workshop. It soured me, permanently, I thought, on British cars.
But then my best friend Tim returned to Orlando from Connecticut in a gorgeous brown 1971 TR6 that he found buried under a pile of debris in a garage in his Dad’s neighbourhood. Sometime in 1973, after just 22,000 miles, the lady owner blew out the engine and parked the car. Tim happened by and offered her $500 for it.
Tim and his Dad found a 1971 TR6 engine in a junkyard. They completed the transplant and Tim drove the car to Florida. I noticed it was a nice looking car that seemed to perfectly fit Tim’s preppy, Ralph Lauren image. Muscular from playing soccer, handsome and easy-going, Tim had (still has) a cheerful nonchalance about him that made people like him right away.
The TR6 was interesting, but I loved my Mustangs. About this time, Tim met his future wife, Tammy. To me, she was the real-life embodiment of Jordan Baker, the professional golfer in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby.” I was envious if not downright jealous. Tim looked great in those clothes in that car with that girl. A few weeks later I needed a ride to the doctor’s office. Tim said he would drive me.
It was a life-changing experience.
I settled into the passenger seat. Right away I liked the style and compactness of the interior. The TR’s classy real wood dash was just like a Jaguar’s. The interior had an old-world smell. When Tim started the engine, the big twin exhaust pipes let out a deep, throaty roar. And the engine made a smooth turbine-like hum. As we rolled down the driveway with the top down, I leaned forward slightly and noticed how the tops of the fenders rose up and blended smoothly into the gentle contours of the hood. My eyes and ears were being attacked by the most wonderful sensations I had ever experienced in a car. I knew I had to have a TR6 -- despite my experience with the sad little MG.
Within six months I did have my own TR6. And my life had changed directions -- all because of that one ride in Tim’s car. I switched my major from business to journalism. I could see my future: I wanted to write about automobiles. I became an editor at the school newspaper and published my first car articles.
But I want to back up a little here. I never would have gone to college if not for a sermon delivered by the father of my first serious girlfriend. He thought there was a good chance I would marry his daughter. So, one afternoon he told me I needed to get an education so that I could provide for a family. I had heard some combination of those very same words from my parents, but his penetrated where those of my parents had been deflected. I enrolled in college and struggled until Tim’s brown TR6 showed me the way.
My Mustangs gave way to three TR6s. But none was quite like Tim’s dark brown car with its tan interior. It just had a certain look, feel, sound and smell that I never found in another TR6. In the fall of 1985, the junkyard motor in Tim’s car was getting cranky. Tim needed cash for school. He didn’t have the time, tools or patience to do much more than keep the car running. So, he sold the TR6 for $2500 to a man who planned to restore it. I was sorry to see Tim’s TR6 go. Tim bought an old Datsun 240Z, but didn’t keep it long. Then he found a 1980 TR8.
My life was very predictable after I decided I wanted to be an automotive journalist. I could usually be found in one of three places: at school, at work or under one of my cars. I was getting half of my education at school learning how to be a writer and a reporter. I was getting the other half in my driveway working on TR6s. Because I had taken apart master cylinders, carburetors and distributors, because I adjusted valves, installed brakes and changed clutches, I could envision in my mind exactly how these parts worked when I wrote about them. Perhaps I was spending too much time learning my trade: My girlfriend and I went our separate ways.
My first job out of school in early 1986 was as a police reporter for The Daytona Beach News-Journal. But I was also working on my dream of becoming an automotive journalist by writing car articles for small specialist publications. Slowly, I was on my way.
In 1989, I landed my dream job: I became the automotive writer for The Orlando Sentinel, my hometown newspaper. Each week, I test drove a new car and wrote a column for the paper’s auto section. I attended new car shows around the country, wrote articles about cars, new and old. My last TR, a 1980 TR7, left me in 1991. Then I owned a 1980 Rover 3500 and three Sterling 827s.
Tim moved about 75 miles away, but we stayed close. We almost never missed a University of Central Florida home football game. Many times while our team was being pounded into the ground, we turned our attention to the TRs we’d owned. We both said that if we ever were to buy another TR, it could only be one car: the brown 1971 TR6 that Tim sold in 1985. But neither of us expected to see it again.
I always thought of my old girlfriend each year on October 12th, her birthday. I hoped she was happy wherever she was. Throughout the years, I met just one other woman that I loved enough to marry, but nothing ever came of it. And so I drifted along doing the same thing in the same place, never thinking far into the future.
Ten years passed.
On a Monday morning late in July of 1998, there was a message on my voice mail at work. It was from my old girlfriend. She wanted information about a sport-utility vehicle. She didn’t leave a phone number, just an address. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as my fingers nervously pressed the keys on an old electric typewriter in the newsroom. After about 30 tries, I finally produced a letter without too many grammatical errors.
She was divorced. She just moved back to Orlando to be closer to her family. Eventually, we started dating again. Now safe in my career and earning a decent wage, I had become the man her father wanted me to be all those years ago. Once again, and rarely for me, I could see my future: It was my place -- my fate -- I thought, to be by her side.
I fell in love with her in record time. But I pushed too hard too fast. With the wounds of her divorce still very fresh, she just couldn’t put her whole heart into another serious relationship so soon. At the end of the year we said goodbye.
I didn’t handle it well. It was, in fact, a another life-changing experience, one that left my spirit crushed beyond anything I had ever known. For the next two years, I was lost in a thick fog of depression that made me bitter and angry. I wanted nothing to do with anyone, so, except for work, I dropped out of the world.
I might still be stumbling around in that fog were it not for something surprising that happened October 10th, 2000. Between projects at work, I hit the Internet to see how much TR6s were selling for on Traderonline.com, a great web site that lets you search nationwide by model and year for any classic car. I was looking at all the early (1970-72) TR6s for sale in Orlando when I spotted this ad:
“1971 Triumph TR6, recent engine and transmission rebuild, new front and rear suspension, bearings and cooling system, new tires, solid wood dash. New carpet. Frame is solid, no rust, no welds. Garage kept for 16 years. Has minor rust at seams on body (If you know TRs, you know what I mean). Labor of love derailed by kids. Cosmetics all that’s left to do. $4500.”
I don’t know why, but I called about the car. A man named Ken answered the phone. He said he’d bought the car 16 years ago from a kid named Tim who was going to the University of Central Florida and who needed to sell the car to help pay tuition.
I was stunned.
“Is the car was brown?“ Yes,” he said. “Does it have a tan interior?” “Yes,” he said. Trying to control my zeal, I said something like, “I believe I know the car. When can I come and see it?” We made arrangements to meet at 9 the next morning, October 11. I arrived 10 minutes early. And there was Tim’s old car almost exactly as I remembered it.
Ken drove the car for a few years then started the restoration by rebuilding the engine and gearbox. That’s as far as he got. Ken got married. And with each child born, the TR6 skidded further down his list of priorities.
I walked around the TR6 and was surprised that, bodily at least, it hadn’t changed one bit. Even the old green and black 1984-85 UCF parking sticker was still affixed to the rear bumper. I settled into the car, leaned forward and looked down at the those fenders and how they blended smoothly into the hood. I took a deep breath. What was left of the interior still smelled great. I could feel my heart beating. I started the engine. That great roar from the big twin pipes and the turbine-like whoosh from the engine sounded just like I remembered. The old magic was still there. But reality struck as I drove around the block. The brakes were soggy. The suspension creaked and groaned. And I could smell unburned gasoline.
Still, I knew I was going to buy it. We settled on $4100 and shook hands. I gave Ken a $1 deposit. We agreed that he would get the balance in cash the following day. It looked as if I was going to own the car that was responsible for my career. I wanted the TR6 badly, but not if it meant losing my best friend.
I called Tim.
“Are you sitting down? You better be. Because I have something to tell you. I just found your old TR6 and I put a deposit on it. I had to so that no one else would get it. If you want it, I’ll buy it tomorrow and you can just give me what I paid for it,” I said. If Tim bought it, I could help him work on it, and at least one of us would have it.
Tim talked it over with Tammy. With two small children and two new cars filling their garage, the TR6 just didn’t fit in their lives. Of the 40 or so cars I’d owned and the hundreds I’d test driven, none was more important to me. That brown TR6 changed my life in immeasurable ways by rescuing me from failure in school. I didn’t know then that it was about to rescue me again.
A life changing TR6...
The next day, Oct. 12th, I handed Ken the $4100 in cash (I let him keep the $1 deposit) and drove it home. That night with my dachshund Frankie in my lap, I took the TR for a short ride around the block. Then I pulled it into the garage and turned off the motor. We sat for a few moments. I looked down that wonderful hood as Frankie rested his nose on the top of the door. I thought of all the things, people and otherwise, that had ever made happy. One was my old girlfriend. Another was the Triumph TR6.
As I thought about restoring the car, I realized I now had something to look forward to. No longer would I dread those long, empty hours between 5pm Friday and 9am Monday. It was all coming together now: Using the best of everything, I would restore the TR6 to showroom condition. For the first time in something like two years, I felt my first genuinely happy feelings. And that night as I waited for sleep, I thought of nothing else but getting my hands on that TR6.
Though it had been 14 years since I last touched a wrench to a TR6, I remembered almost everything. Nights and weekends were spent replacing worn out parts. The repairs went smoothly. As I was restoring the TR6, it was restoring me. By the end of 2000, the TR6 was mechanically as good as new and ready for the body shop. And I was feeling great again.
I took the TR6 to The Classic Toy Shop, one of the best body shops in Central Florida with these instructions: “Cut no corners.” The restoration took nine months. But when it was finished, the car was nearly perfect.
Every now and then after work, Frankie and I go to the garage and sit in the TR6. Sometimes we go for a ride, sometimes we don’t. I just like being in the car, even if we don’t go anywhere. The car makes me happy. And it makes me think:
Two parallel lines that seemed destined never to cross -- the sermon by my old girlfriend’s Dad that sent me to school and Tim’s old car that shaped my career once I got there -- intersected years later on October 12th, her birthday. Sometimes I wonder why this came together just so. Maybe it’s a little like what Tom Hanks says at the end Forrest Gump: “I don’t know if we each have a destiny, or if we’re all just floating around accidental-like on a breeze, but I think maybe it’s both. Maybe both is happening at the same time.”
The way I see it is that maybe some people and cars are just meant to be together. And maybe when the time is right, certain people are too.