I remember when I first saw this car. I’d never seen anything like it before.
It was in a parking lot on the very far side of town, yellow and tiny and completely incomprehensible to me, a budding car enthusiast. I remember staring at the octagonal badge on the trunk with no idea what kind of car this was.
I eventually wandered home, spent either hours or days looking around on the internet with really not a lot to go on until I found out about MG, read up its history, learned what was so great about the era of the classic British sports car, and fell just a little bit in love.
Now it appears that this very car, this very 1972 MG Midget, is for sale in my home town, right on one of my very favorite streets. I can’t believe I never figured out who owned this car, or talked to the dude.
That Volvo Amazon in the background of one of the pictures, even, was a particular obsession of mine for many years.
The car is listed right here for a reasonable price. The top is missing (as if an MG needs a top), but the seller claims he’s rebuilt the carbs, changed the oil, plugs, battery, battery cable, and starter solenoid.
I would buy it but I’ve moved far away from California, thousands of miles removed from rust-free survivor cars, still driving as reminders of what the past used to look like.
Buy it so I don’t. Give it a good new home.
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