OUR CLASSICS
Jesse takes his MG to the Lake District in search of an adventure before putting it to rest for winter
1979 MG MIDGET 1500
‘It’s only 262 miles there, 262 miles back. Call it six hours each way – that should be plenty.’ That was my thought process when planning a short weekend away with a friend in the Lake District. A simple enough plan and plenty of slippage allowed should things go a bit awry en-route.
Then the ETA on my phone shifted and an hour vanished just as I was making my final checks. Ah well – 7pm isn’t too bad and maybe the traffic will have cleared if it’s a long way up the road. What actually transpired was that my initial route of M1, M6 and M62 had become so congested that the best option was to take the M1 and A1 and finish with a blast along the A66. I knew the route, so saddled up and set off.
I’d anticipated the rain, too; for once I’d done some planning and knew that rain would roll in by the time I hit Chesterfield but I reckoned that it should clear quickly. What I failed to take into account was how intense it would be. The wipers beat away furiously at the deluge and just about kept the screen clear, though I did notice a drop coming through from the top of the windscreen, a failing seal on the edge of the folding hood, no doubt. It was a very small drop so nothing to really worry about, but something to add to the winter job list. I eventually arrived – more than two hours after my target time, though thankfully through no fault of my MG.
My friend Adam and I see each other rarely these days, what with his intense RAF workload so adventures like this are a real treat and it was the first time that he’d seen the MG in the flesh. We tackled Scafell on the Saturday in a flurry of snow and cold winds while Sunday morning saw both of us setting off post-breakfast. The mercury had dipped as low as – 6°C overnight and it was still 0°C when we stepped out. Adam’s Volkswagen Golf MkVIII started at the first push of the button whereas I could be found crouching at the far end of the car park, blowing furiously on the door locks trying to defrost them. The real question, though, was whether the 1500 engine would splutter into life.
What followed was an embarrassing amount of cranking with barely a sign of life. I eventually gave up to spare the battery and starter and we pushed the car from the car park and out onto the road, which mercifully sloped downwards. With a heave, we bump-started the car on the second try and left it to idle and warm through.
I opted for the additional challenge of the Hardknott Pass just for the heck of it; threading the little MG through the narrow lanes was a doddle and the cabin heater kept me toasty and
