MGs HAVE ALWAYS been intended to give enjoyment. And since the very beginning of the marque's history, they've been chosen by drivers who wanted to obtain maximum pleasure from their motoring.
I was reminded of this when I recently re-read 'Motor Tramp', by John Heygate. The book covers Heygate's European travels during the early 1930s in what was, almost certainly, a 1932 F-type 'Magna' model. The photographs aren't too clear, but they show valenced front mudguards and a rear-mounted spare wheel. Heygate mentions a six-cylinder, 1270cc, twin-carburettor engine, and its "long and low" open bodywork. Yet he also said it was a small car, "built down from a model that had won fame on the race track". His example was apparently capable of about 70-75 mph flat out.
The Magna was MG's answer to the contemporary craze for small sixes. It used the Wolseley Hornet overhead-cam motor, giving just 37 bhp at 4100 rpm - but chassis weight was low, so performance could be quite brisk. The 4-speed, non-synchro gearbox (which was highly praised at the time) was bought in from the ENV company. There was quite a choice of bodywork available: 2-seater open, 2-seater coupe, 4-seater open or 4-seater saloon. Plus special designs from independent coachbuilders. According to MG historian, Mike Allison, 248 F-types were built before the model was superceded by the slightly more powerful L-type in 1933.
Heygate collected his car, new, straight from MG's recently completed Abingdon factory. Desperately trying to hide his excitement, he nonchalantly hopped in and drove away - as if he was quite used to owning a shiny, brand-new sportscar. But once out of sight of the factory, he stopped and literally crawled all over it - examining it from every angle, exploring the controls, pushing knobs and buttons, and peeling off the running-in instructions which had been stuck to the windscreen (40mph max for 1000 miles).
The car had a Hampshire registration, CG 1425, but those first 1000 miles were mostly covered in London. Heygate reckoned that he'd be tempted to open the throttle too far if he took it out on to country roads. No speed restrictions in those days, of course - not even in towns. Another interesting comparison with today's motoring conditions is that driving round London in an open car was actually considered enjoyable sixty years ago!
Once CG 1425 was fully run-in, Heygate and a chum decided to travel around the continent for three weeks, living as cheaply as possible - which meant sleeping in the car most nights. They couldn't just 'up and go', however - and it's fascinating, today, to read about the preparations that were required.
As well as passports, it was necessary to obtain an International Driving Permit from the AA, and that actually meant undergoing a driving test. This would have been something novel for a British driver then, as UK driving tests weren't brought in until 1935. Heygate passed, luckily, and got his Permit. The car was issued with something called an 'International Certificate for Motor Vehicles'.
Watching the MG being loaded on board the cross-channel boat, at Dover, must have been a nerve-wracking experience. It was slung on ropes wrapped round its axles; then lifted by crane over the side of the ship and down into the hold.
They headed for Berlin, and - as it turned out - John Heygate found a job there and stayed for six months. But his friend had woman trouble back home, so he returned alone, at the end of the three weeks.
Life in Germany was difficult for many people at that time, and you'd think that a foreign worker might have been resented; but Heygate must have had an engaging personality, because he seems to have made friends wherever he went. His MG was much admired - it gathered crowds of knowledgeable enthusiasts each time he parked. The car now looked a bit different, though, because he'd fitted a heavy, double-bar front bumper, and a set of winkers, to cope with Berlin's traffic.
After spending a winter in Berlin - during which the river froze so hard that he was able to try ice racing in the MG - Heygate travelled south. It was now February, and his ambition was to reach the Dolomites before the end of the ski-ing season.
The road south wasn't particularly good, and there was a biting wind that chilled him "from the stomach up". It started snowing quite heavily, and he was involved in a minor accident, yet he managed to reach the German/Austrian border by late evening of the second day. Austria's borders had been rearranged after the Great War, and southern Tyrol was now part of Italy. Seemingly typical of Heygate, at the Austrian/Italian border crossing he got chatting to the (Austrian) customs officer - who, it turned out, needed a lift down to the Dolomites himself.
So with Franz now installed in the passenger seat, Heygate drove along difficult mountain roads, and down into the Isarco and Eisack valleys. Progress was slow, because the roads were covered in snow - on top of ice - so the MG was sliding uncontrollably for much of the time.
The pair stayed in little guest-houses for the equivalent of ten pence per night. Chatting to locals in the bar, after an evening meal, politics were never far from the surface. This area was obviously Austrian in terms of its people, their language and culture - but now it belonged to Italy. Town names had all been changed: Brenner had become 'Brennero' and Salurn was now called 'Salurno'. Armed Italian soldiers were much in evidence.
Franz was carrying Austrian newspapers to distribute amongst the local population: an illegal act that would have resulted in prison sentences for both him and Heygate if they'd been found out. The MG would probably have been confiscated, too.
The car behaved impeccably, despite being stuffed into snow drifts at regular intervals. It seems curious, but there was no anti-freeze in the radiator; so it had to be drained each night, then refilled with warm water. First start of the day was on the starting-handle - one 'up-flick' was all that was needed, apparently.
But, even with snow chains fitted, they nearly came to grief in blizzard conditions on the Rolle Pass. The MG finally made it to the inn at the top of the pass just before the road was closed. So Heygate got out his skis, and spent three enjoyable days playing in the snow, while his companion became steadily more irritated by the presence of an Italian army officer who'd been snowed-in with them.
After more adventures, John Heygate returned to England, and took the MG back to Abingdon for a major service. It had done well over 20,000 miles on the continent, in often appalling conditions. But it was still going strong. In fact, it had never once let him down, he said.
There were certain points that needed attention, though. Various bits had dropped off along the way, and the bodywork was no longer attached to the chassis as firmly as it had originally been. The MG was battle-scarred and weary. Its silencer had blown, and its engine was burning a fair bit of oil. But Heygate was very proud of CG 1425. Interestingly, he wasn't keen on the new model (presumably the L-type Magna). He sat in one while his own car was being checked over, but he disliked the new type of gear-change, and he found the driving position uncomfortable.
The following year, Heygate returned to the continent in his MG. He'd written to Franz and they'd arranged to meet. But things were changing - Fascism was on the rise. Hitler had assumed power in Germany, and Austria's allegiances were split. The Viennese government had mobilised home-guard troops to counteract rebel Nazi sympathisers, leading to an overwhelming atmosphere of fear and suspicion. Someone painted a swastika on the MG in the dead of night. Austria wasn't much fun anymore.
Heygate went on to Czechoslovakia - where, surprisingly, they drove on the left, just like Britain. He enjoyed his time there, and rented a cheap room for a while in the centre of Prague. As usual, he made plenty of friends, and got invited to picnics, parties and wedding feasts.
The MG went better than it had ever gone before - Czech petrol apparently had a high alcohol content, which seemed to suit the little ohc engine. He had his first breakdown in Czechoslovakia, though, and had to to replace the head gasket. Perhaps the petrol wasn't that good after all?
Eventually, a romantic attachment took Heygate back to Italy, and he met up with the lady in question at the famous Stelvio Pass. Photographs show that this amazing road looked much the same in 1934 as it does today - winding 8000 feet up the mountain via 48 consecutive hairpin bends. The Stelvio was one of the major continental hill-climb venues, and a timed ascent actually took place while they were there - with Alfas, Lancias and Maseratis blasting their way up.
When it was time to go, Heygate obviously felt torn at leaving Maria, his Italian beauty. But his over-riding concern - as he headed back to England - seemed to be the thought that he would soon be selling his beloved CG 1425. How, he wondered, could its next owner possibly know of its remarkable achievements? Would it be treated properly, or would it end up in the hands of someone who'd callously flog it to death?
It would certainly be fascinating to find out what happened to this MG; to discover whether or not it survived...
"Motor Tramp", by John Heygate, was first published in 1935 (by Jonathan Cape). It's been out of print for many years, but copies still turn up at second-hand bookshops. Anyone who likes old MGs, or continental touring, will love it.
David Landers
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