I was sixteen years old when I purchased my first MGB. It was my junior year in high school and against my parents' advice I bought a $300 "car" which I just knew I could restore. It came mostly in boxes-parts I've never hear of piled in my dad's garage-my mission began. I worked for over a year trying to piece it together in the days before the internet. Had I tried it now, I would have a better chance. I would go to an import dealer near my home and look under the hood to see where parts went and to identify parts I was missing. I spent a fortune (to a sixteen-year-old) trying to fix this car but never succeeded. My dad reclaimed his garage and the MGB was gone.
Fast-forward 24 years later.
Yes, I was still talking about the car that got the better of me in high school to anybody who would listen. It had become my Moby Dick, my fishing story about the one that got away.
A colleague of mine a few months back called me to tell me he had spotted an MGB for sale in nice condition, in British racing green, and RUNNING. That same weekend I went to see it and fell in love. That little beauty is now parked in my garage with a fresh coat of wax and about a gallon of Armor All slathered on it keeping it shiny.
In high school I had images of me driving around with the cute girl from school and feeling pretty good about myself. Now, that pretty girl is finally riding along side with me, but she's my wife. Maybe its best it took until I was 40 to get my dream car. Maybe I appreciate it a bit more. Maybe it means more to me now that my other cute girl-my daughter- can also ride with me.