I remember reading a short story in my not so misspent youth, about a guy who went out one day to buy a couch and came home with a Les Paul guitar. In much the same manner, once upon a time, I was invited to a poker game, and when I came home I owned an MG Midget.
If you are the sort who counts amongst your likes, (obsessions?), small British sports cars, this will all make sense .
Spridgets have been an obsession of mine from an early age. When I was in my early teens I had three different paper routes. On my morning route I had a customer who had a daughter who owned a chrome bumper Midget. The daughter was a real live adult who had an actual job and lived away. When she was home visiting, the little MG would be parked directly in front of the house in the quiet residential area her mom lived in. It looked very smart at O dark O’clock under the street lamp. That incredibly soft light an hour or so before dawn, the hour of the pearl, as Steinbeck called it. It was refrigerator white in stark contrast to its black top, and was the first MG of any kind I had ever laid eyes on. It was altogether the coolest vehicle ever. I would look furtively up and down the street, and pondering the utter stillness of the house the Midget belonged to, I would slip into the driver’s seat. I marveled at the Smith’s gauges with the chrome bezels, which were prominent and rich looking even in that light. I think I stopped short of making engine noises. I am sure I did not stop short of wondering what kind of incredible and unattainable female would own such a device. Oh my God, the possibilities. Such are the machinations in the mind of a thirteen year old male.
You could say that years before that fateful full house, I had it bad, and that ain’t good. The poker Midget was a ‘66, and was fairly complete, but something of a project. It was a pretty rough one at that. It served a great purpose by rekindling my interest in Midgets and educating me about them at the same time. I made it run again. The rebuilding of the carbs was the biggest part of the labor investment. After static timing was adjusted and valve clearances checked, it fired right up and fogged all the mosquitoes in the neighborhood into submission. After two or three hot / cold running cycles, the rings somewhat seated and it did not smoke so badly. It showed a white hot 20 lbs. of oil pressure at idle. It was tired. It had no brakes, so I drove it around in the yard to see if the rest of the drive train was working. It was all great fun, and seemed to amaze and entertain the neighbors.
Ultimately, I realized the tub was rusted beyond reason, and parted it out. This, of course, taught me even more. Later, I acquired another bare tub. It was a ‘73 round arch car, and I now had enough parts to build a Midget from scratch. I am clueless as to how this happens, but other fanatics have told me they have experienced the same phenomenon. Parts cars mysteriously find the way to your garage, Spridget bits rain on your backyard like manna from heaven. People like me, who are building one nice Midget, often end up with two or three parts cars. This makes their backyard look like a very small junkyard for very small cars. Parts of my house have been decorated in early British car parts. It improves the ambience of the place and gives you things to gaze at and dream about while you nurse a Guinness in the evening.
Eventually, reality set in, and I decided while I was prioritizing my various car and motorcycle projects, I wanted a Midget to drive. A runner that you can work on and improve while you are actually driving it perhaps makes more sense for a lot of folks. So this time around the dance floor I bought a car in, “documented running condition”. My present Midget is a ’72, and is in use as a (nearly) daily driver. During the two years I have had this one I have put about 15,000 miles on it. I drive it year ‘round, only avoiding winter roads with snow and /or salt on them. Believe me, if you own a Midget with a clean tub, you want to keep it that way.
This car had been in a flood, and I was able to purchase it very reasonably. Mechanically, it was in excellent shape. The main aftermath of the flood was that I had to redo the interior. It lived far away, which of course led to another adventure. My good friend Gary and I retrieved it with his truck and a car dolly. At one point, the horn had a loose wire and came on while we were towing it down the freeway. I think with its new-found speed and ambition, it wanted to pass us. So, from this perspective, I would like to tell you what it is like to buy and own a Midget, in the event you have thoughts of contracting this particular illness.
Working on Midgets / Sprites; a Midget by any other name is still an MG, but a Midget by any other name could be, well, your Dad’s (Granddad’s?) Rambler America…really. About the only substantial differences are the fact the Midget is a Roadster and it only weighs 1600 pounds. Almost any American compact or intermediate sedan my generation grew up in and crawling around under follows the same basic architecture. Forget about how quirky these things are supposed to be. Once you get past opening the hood, (oops, the bonnet), so you can turn the little valve that lets hot water get to where it will do some good, what you have is a tractor layout. It is a front engine, rear wheel drive car with leaf springs and a live axle in the rear. Any farm kid who has replaced the starter on the F-150 can easily figure out a Midget. If you have a complete set of American and metric wrenches you will not need a Whitworth anything.
Buying a Midget; Midgets are easy to buy, and to get parts for. They made a lot of them which came to this country for a lot of years. Anybody with a job can afford to buy some kind of runner, they were not terrible expensive cars to begin with, but they were not cheap. By that I mean although they were built to a price the materials used throughout were not shoddy by the standards of their day. The chassis is a very efficient monocoque (pronounced “Monaco”), which is the best and worst thing about them. They are very light and very stiff. They do not respond well to 40 years of neglect and rust. Unless you are good with sheet metal and know what you are doing I would steer clear of an example with a lot of rot. There are a lot of good examples out there, no need to take on a rust bucket.
Even the most rusted out car will have major suspension components or body parts that are useful. . Such cars have a very important role in this world. We call them organ donors. So overall, Midgets are cheap to acquire, decent runners, and generally vary in price between $2000 and $5000 dollars. Parts availability is simply not an issue, starting with the magazine you are presently holding in your hands.
And then we come to the end use, actually driving one. I hate to say this but the word that comes to mind is just delightful. Considering the vintage of car we are dealing with, one cannot find a lot of fault here. These cars were built in England as actual transportation and as such, they really are. The suspension actually suspends, the brakes actually brake, the 1275 A series engines in particular are very willing, and the transmissions snick through the gears like a proper box. Also, I myself am 6 feet tall and 210 pounds, and I fit in one just fine. Getting in and out is a mildly athletic event, but being in one is no problem unless you are somewhat bigger than I am. My 56” girlfriend tells me that long legs help with reaching the pedals.
Then of course, there is the issue of being seen in one. Everyone will want a ride, and seemingly half of the population of the earth will stop and look at your car when parked and proceed to tell you they owned one, knew somebody who did , or always wanted one . But the absolute over the top thing about owning a Midget is the small children, which will automatically wander aimlessly in the direction of any parked Spridget with the parents either trailing or being towed behind. From my years of observing this phenomenon, the little persons see this as a step up from the Barbie Ferrari, a real sports car that is (almost) my size. Maybe I could actually drive this thing…better than Disneyworld.
Really, no foolin’, wait until you let someone’s munchkin sit in the driver’s seat, hands on the wheel, grinning so hard you’re afraid their cheeks might crack. And then some of them, not all you know, but some of them, sometimes, they start making engine noises.
Such can be a life around Midgets. / R. K. Ripple
If you are the sort who counts amongst your likes, (obsessions?), small British sports cars, this will all make sense .
Spridgets have been an obsession of mine from an early age. When I was in my early teens I had three different paper routes. On my morning route I had a customer who had a daughter who owned a chrome bumper Midget. The daughter was a real live adult who had an actual job and lived away. When she was home visiting, the little MG would be parked directly in front of the house in the quiet residential area her mom lived in. It looked very smart at O dark O’clock under the street lamp. That incredibly soft light an hour or so before dawn, the hour of the pearl, as Steinbeck called it. It was refrigerator white in stark contrast to its black top, and was the first MG of any kind I had ever laid eyes on. It was altogether the coolest vehicle ever. I would look furtively up and down the street, and pondering the utter stillness of the house the Midget belonged to, I would slip into the driver’s seat. I marveled at the Smith’s gauges with the chrome bezels, which were prominent and rich looking even in that light. I think I stopped short of making engine noises. I am sure I did not stop short of wondering what kind of incredible and unattainable female would own such a device. Oh my God, the possibilities. Such are the machinations in the mind of a thirteen year old male.
You could say that years before that fateful full house, I had it bad, and that ain’t good. The poker Midget was a ‘66, and was fairly complete, but something of a project. It was a pretty rough one at that. It served a great purpose by rekindling my interest in Midgets and educating me about them at the same time. I made it run again. The rebuilding of the carbs was the biggest part of the labor investment. After static timing was adjusted and valve clearances checked, it fired right up and fogged all the mosquitoes in the neighborhood into submission. After two or three hot / cold running cycles, the rings somewhat seated and it did not smoke so badly. It showed a white hot 20 lbs. of oil pressure at idle. It was tired. It had no brakes, so I drove it around in the yard to see if the rest of the drive train was working. It was all great fun, and seemed to amaze and entertain the neighbors.
Ultimately, I realized the tub was rusted beyond reason, and parted it out. This, of course, taught me even more. Later, I acquired another bare tub. It was a ‘73 round arch car, and I now had enough parts to build a Midget from scratch. I am clueless as to how this happens, but other fanatics have told me they have experienced the same phenomenon. Parts cars mysteriously find the way to your garage, Spridget bits rain on your backyard like manna from heaven. People like me, who are building one nice Midget, often end up with two or three parts cars. This makes their backyard look like a very small junkyard for very small cars. Parts of my house have been decorated in early British car parts. It improves the ambience of the place and gives you things to gaze at and dream about while you nurse a Guinness in the evening.
Eventually, reality set in, and I decided while I was prioritizing my various car and motorcycle projects, I wanted a Midget to drive. A runner that you can work on and improve while you are actually driving it perhaps makes more sense for a lot of folks. So this time around the dance floor I bought a car in, “documented running condition”. My present Midget is a ’72, and is in use as a (nearly) daily driver. During the two years I have had this one I have put about 15,000 miles on it. I drive it year ‘round, only avoiding winter roads with snow and /or salt on them. Believe me, if you own a Midget with a clean tub, you want to keep it that way.
This car had been in a flood, and I was able to purchase it very reasonably. Mechanically, it was in excellent shape. The main aftermath of the flood was that I had to redo the interior. It lived far away, which of course led to another adventure. My good friend Gary and I retrieved it with his truck and a car dolly. At one point, the horn had a loose wire and came on while we were towing it down the freeway. I think with its new-found speed and ambition, it wanted to pass us. So, from this perspective, I would like to tell you what it is like to buy and own a Midget, in the event you have thoughts of contracting this particular illness.
Working on Midgets / Sprites; a Midget by any other name is still an MG, but a Midget by any other name could be, well, your Dad’s (Granddad’s?) Rambler America…really. About the only substantial differences are the fact the Midget is a Roadster and it only weighs 1600 pounds. Almost any American compact or intermediate sedan my generation grew up in and crawling around under follows the same basic architecture. Forget about how quirky these things are supposed to be. Once you get past opening the hood, (oops, the bonnet), so you can turn the little valve that lets hot water get to where it will do some good, what you have is a tractor layout. It is a front engine, rear wheel drive car with leaf springs and a live axle in the rear. Any farm kid who has replaced the starter on the F-150 can easily figure out a Midget. If you have a complete set of American and metric wrenches you will not need a Whitworth anything.
Buying a Midget; Midgets are easy to buy, and to get parts for. They made a lot of them which came to this country for a lot of years. Anybody with a job can afford to buy some kind of runner, they were not terrible expensive cars to begin with, but they were not cheap. By that I mean although they were built to a price the materials used throughout were not shoddy by the standards of their day. The chassis is a very efficient monocoque (pronounced “Monaco”), which is the best and worst thing about them. They are very light and very stiff. They do not respond well to 40 years of neglect and rust. Unless you are good with sheet metal and know what you are doing I would steer clear of an example with a lot of rot. There are a lot of good examples out there, no need to take on a rust bucket.
Even the most rusted out car will have major suspension components or body parts that are useful. . Such cars have a very important role in this world. We call them organ donors. So overall, Midgets are cheap to acquire, decent runners, and generally vary in price between $2000 and $5000 dollars. Parts availability is simply not an issue, starting with the magazine you are presently holding in your hands.
And then we come to the end use, actually driving one. I hate to say this but the word that comes to mind is just delightful. Considering the vintage of car we are dealing with, one cannot find a lot of fault here. These cars were built in England as actual transportation and as such, they really are. The suspension actually suspends, the brakes actually brake, the 1275 A series engines in particular are very willing, and the transmissions snick through the gears like a proper box. Also, I myself am 6 feet tall and 210 pounds, and I fit in one just fine. Getting in and out is a mildly athletic event, but being in one is no problem unless you are somewhat bigger than I am. My 56” girlfriend tells me that long legs help with reaching the pedals.
Then of course, there is the issue of being seen in one. Everyone will want a ride, and seemingly half of the population of the earth will stop and look at your car when parked and proceed to tell you they owned one, knew somebody who did , or always wanted one . But the absolute over the top thing about owning a Midget is the small children, which will automatically wander aimlessly in the direction of any parked Spridget with the parents either trailing or being towed behind. From my years of observing this phenomenon, the little persons see this as a step up from the Barbie Ferrari, a real sports car that is (almost) my size. Maybe I could actually drive this thing…better than Disneyworld.
Really, no foolin’, wait until you let someone’s munchkin sit in the driver’s seat, hands on the wheel, grinning so hard you’re afraid their cheeks might crack. And then some of them, not all you know, but some of them, sometimes, they start making engine noises.
Such can be a life around Midgets. / R. K. Ripple
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