Under the Hammer

The First MG I ever bought was the first I drove (or sat in for that matter!) They say “never buy the first one you see” and you know what? They are right. I should have had a bit of a clue when I went to view it and the owner took me to the rear of her house to see a rather forlorn looking Midget 1500 tied to a donkey. Her knickers were drying on the hedge the donkey was eating.

The Midget smelt of damp, took an age to get started and looked like it needed a bit of ‘fettling’. I got in for a test drive, the roof was down, the sun was shining, what can I say; I’m weak. Bought and paid for, it spent the next three years of its life carrying out Viking style raids on my back account. Having practically had the thing rebuilt from scratch, I promptly sold it to put a new roof on my house. Having no heating is one thing, but when the rain starts landing on the telly you have to do something about it.

Two years pass and once again I find myself longing for top down motoring, I see them on the roads on the way to work. The cars are calling to me, “Buy me, don’t listen to the wife, she won’t mind really”.

Highest bidder Darrin with his latest acquisition ‘Bumble’

Using all my powers of persuasion (and some thumb screws) I get the old ball and chain to agree that we need a soft top car for the summer. This time I’m not going to make the same mistake, “don’t buy the first one you see”. I know exactly what I want, a Tartan Red Midget, round wheel arch (tax exempt). Nothing else will do, I don’t care if I takes me a lifetime to source, I can wait ….. and wait …. and wait. In fact nearly a year goes by and even though I’ve recruited the help of the ever patient Malcolm, who builds concours examples from scratch (don’t you just hate people who can do that) I still haven’t found exactly what I’m looking for. Every time we go to see one, there has always been a little something stopping me from taking the plunge.

Then on the 23rd of November the Tees Valley MG Owners Club organise a small impromptu trip to Bonham’s Classic Car Auction at the Harrogate showground. John, Stan, Mike and Ken drove down with me and the trouble and strife following behind. I’ve no intention of buying anything, because I’ve looked on their website and there are no Midgets for sale, so we’re only going for a nose around.

As soon as we walk in, a bright (Inca) yellow Roadster with rubber bumpers leaps out at us from the other 50 or so cars. Without thinking I blurt out “Who’d have a yellow car?” completely forgetting Mike’s beautiful yellow GT (if looks could kill?) The missus immediately says “I would,” and makes a bee line for the Roadster. How could she? Doesn’t she know that we want a Midget? How could I stop her from getting closer? I look for a handy fire alarm leaver to pull (there’s never one around when you want one, is there?)

It’s too late, she’s got to it and I can see in her eyes, it’s got to her. She’s sitting in it (bad sign), she’s popped the bonnet (dreadful), she’s actually on her knees looking underneath (unbelievable), she’s smiling (fatal). I get to her just in time to hear the same words she said to me on our engagement day in the jewellers, “BUY IT”.

So it came to pass that lot number 648 was one of the last of the day. The assembled team from the TVMGOC picked and poked their way over the car for hours, while I’m desperately hoping they find something wrong. Alas, every single one of them said the same thing, “Can’t fault it, it’s like new, I’d buy it, it would be one of the best it the Club, it’s yellow” (thanks Mike).

Thinking that there might be some respite in the paperwork, I go to reception and ask to have a look at all the documentation (hardly realising that the lads had formed a conga line behind me to have a look too). One owner from new, a doctor no less, the original bill of sale and the newspaper advert selling it from a dealer in 1978 (optional extra of a radio, still fitted!). There’s bills going back to the Jurassic age, all from an MG specialist garage “attended hospital to fit headlight bulb”. All spoke of a very busy doctor who was happy to spend money to keep the car in tip top condition.

I was sunk; there was no way she was going to let this one slip by. The time was upon us, the bidding was about to start. The lads start giving helpful hints seconds before the bidding begins. “Don’t be the first one to bid, don’t let it go because of another £100, make sure the auctioneer can see you etc. etc.” All immediately go out of my head as soon as lot 648 comes up.

Thump The auctioneer starts to outline the history, “Finest we’ve seen in a long time, one owner from new, very rarely come up like this etc. etc.” JUST GET ON WITH IT.
Thump The bidding begins. There’s an initial flurry of bids, I immediately think everyone wants this car and there’s no way we’ll be able to afford it.
Thump What is that noise?
Thump The bidding starts to slow. It stops. It’s still at a low price; do people know something I don’t?
Thump I throw a bid in, someone else immediately bids me up, they really want this car and I can’t afford to go on like this all day.
Thump What is that noise?
Thump I throw in one more bid, determined not to get carried away. I’ve set my limit and although not near it yet, it won’t take long to get there.
Thump He didn’t come back with another bid! It’s with me!
Thump Auctioneer “Come now that’s awfully cheap for a car of this calibre, surely there must be more interest than this? Anyone?… Anyone?…”
Thump JUST PUT THE BLASTED HAMMER DOWN.
Thump The hammer falls, it’s mine – for a steal.

It’s only when we’re all done, backs are being patted, hands are being shaken, I realise the thumping was my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. I’m driving home in a bright yellow rubber bumper roadster, my darling wife is in her VW in front. I told her this would be a good buy, they never listen do they? With thanks to the team of experts on the day (and Grandad Duck for telling me I was too fat for a Midget anyway!)

Darrin Knight