My dream started when I was 8 years old, 1964, in a hot, humid, South American country village. It was during the British Colonial days, when Britain seemed to have owned the world. Growing up in an underdeveloped country during those days dreams were "huge", but limited to only your life's experience. The best I would do, is to dream about taking ownership of my eldest brother passed on presents from year to year. "We learnt contentment". Outside of the village where I lived was an airstrip with all pilots from England. They flew daily into the hinterlands of the rainforest, to carry out whatever businesses/jobs they were responsible for. I think it must have been, Gold digging, timber, and cattle rearing in the savannahs of South America. As a kid, and I think in most places those days, money was hard to come by. So we started at an early age to earn our pocket money. Myself and another friend at the age of about 8 years old started our business. We would go every Saturday and Sunday and sit at each side of the entrance gate of the airstrip, awaiting the arrival of the pilots or any vehicles coming into the airstrip. During those days there was no Security guard at the gate to open it for the drivers, so they would have to step out of the vehicle, open the gate, get back in, drive into the compound, then get out of the vehicle and closed the gate behind them before driving off. I remember making up to fifty cents some days between us. So the hot sun on our backs, the hot tar under the bare feet, and no access to water were secondary. With pennies in the pocket, the rest of the week in school, we were "kings". We had even contemplated quitting elementary school to put more time into the business. From my dad's point of view, I would have had to do it from a wheelchair.
One day we sat there on an endless wait without realising that it was a holiday, that the airstrip was closed. After waiting for a very long time we were about to leave. Walking towards the main road from the approach, we see this small car turned into the approach towards the gate. We rushed back without even saying a word to each other. As we reached the gate the little red car was upon us. I was on the side to open the gate, but I froze, staring at this beautiful, little red car, with the letters "MGB" on the hood, not even acknowledging the driver. It seemed like a long time passed, before hearing the word " hi there young man". Are you tired from the dash back, or do you want to sit in the other seat and have a rest? Before he knew it I was on the passenger side. I cannot even remember up until today how I got into the passenger seat. The driver came out opened the entrance gate, came back in and drove into the airstrip with me as his passenger. I looked back to see my friend closing the gate, and then running behind the car. It was "my day", and it was on that day that I looked at this very "handsome, young, well dressed Britisher, who was my driver that day, and took a deep breath and implanted the dream of owning a car like this, and dressing like him some day in my unknown future.
Twelve years later after doing ok with my studies, I moved to Canada, and from the first day here I promised myself to fulfill my dream. Time went by so quickly. Getting married, raising twin girls, paying a mortgage, and other responsibilities came in between me and my dream. But it never died, I would go to car shows and auctions throughout. I kept on always trying to find one which is in a condition, which I can afford to restore. Never happened in 30 years. Internet helped in a great way. I kept on looking and calling potential sellers. I called a seller who told me that his car was sold but he knows of someone who want has an MGB for sale. I asked if it was listed and he said no. So I thought that it might be in poor shape, that's the reason he doesn't want to list it. One week after I called another seller. His car was sold also, but he said the same thing, that he knows of someone who wants to sell, but it's not listed. I took the email address, since the seller did not want to give out his phone number. I sent an email out and got a reply immediately. The reason he did not list the car is because it was his dad's car, who passed away, and he lives 4 hours drive away from where the car was at (his dad's house). He couldn't travel each time someone calls him to view the car, and he did not want anyone to visit the car since him mum alone was in the house. He wanted a serious buyer. Two weeks after our first email, I received a call while on my way home one evening. It was Jim. Very pleasant. He asked if I wanted to see the car, that he is in town. The weather was bad, heavy thunderstorm, so I tried to set up another time. He said that he might not be able to be there until after a month, so I accepted. He told me the address where the car was and to meet him there. I nearly cried, it was 10 minutes from my home address, on a farm road. I got there and met this pleasant gentleman, 60ish, who told me about his and his dad's hobby of fixing British cars since he was a kid in this same garage where I stood next to a covered dream, I was waiting to be introduced to. After telling me his family history, of coming to Canada from England, and then listening to mine coming from South America, I realized that everyone of us have so much in common as human beings, that we need to be more accepting and less judgemental towards each other. Finally he pulled the cover from this 1979 Limited Edition MGB, and up until now I am in awe. It was meant for me although at that time I thought that I can never afford it. Jim allowed me to be as he said "common Dave, I want you to be ridiculous with the offer" , my dad will be happy that you got his car. And I did. Now I just need to buy the nice clothes to match the young handsome Britisher, who introduced me to my first MGB. Thanks JIM! The rest is history.