WITHOUT DOUBT, ANY one interested in old cars will have toyed with the MG marque at some point. And I'm equally sure that every reader, like myself, has a favourite model - after all, there is an enormous choice, ranging through thinly-disguised racers to sedate yet sporting saloons. Speaking personally, the TC best sums up what the magic of MG is all about and I suspect that similar thoughts ran through Maurice Ballard's mind a few years back when he first saw what appeared to be a TC nestling under a makeshift shelter in a neighbour's garden.
Maurice, who lives in Woodchurch, Sussex, was able to get a good look at the car but, as in so many cases of this sort, the owner was unwilling to sell the vehicle. In fact it lay there for 16 years before, one day, the neighbour relented. The princely sum of £80 changed hands and Maurice stumped up a further £25 at a later date when the owner discovered the whereabouts of the petrol tank. Maurice thus became the proud owner of a dilapidated TC.
Or rather, he didn't.
For £105 Maurice had secured something much rarer.
"I knew it was a copycat, a replica of the TC," he recalled. "Under that awful body was a M type Midget trying to get out. I set my mind on bringing the car back to its former glory." Sceptical readers who have heard these words before will know only too well the depth of their 
meaning - and the often frustrating period that follows. Restoration of the Midget was certainly no easy task but fortunately Maurice had worked in the motor trade and he felt that he would be able to do a lot himself. In the event it was to take three years and some £7-8,000 before the M type once more turned its wheels.
The M type Midget was actually announced in 1928, the engine being derived from Wolseley, this latter unit having been deemed too powerful for the new Morris Minor (hard to imagine, 70 years on!). The car had a stepped chassis, came with a three speed crash gearbox and owed its svelte lines to Carbodies. Simplicity was the keyword at that time: the ash and plywood construction was largely fabric-covered and so designed to incorporate a pointed tail for the spare and luggage. At £175 all-in, the public were interested from the time it went on view at that year's Motor Show. The diminutive 847cc engine coupled to a lightish (around 1,100 lb) chassis proved to be a convincing selling point and it wasn't until 1932 that production ceased, some 3,200 examples having been constructed.
The actual car featured here bears number 2 on its brass plaque although it seems the vehicle wasn't registered until 1929. It was in a sorry, state, to put it mildly, and came with those legendary "boxes of bits", some of which took a time to identify.
The first task was to strip down the car to its chassis. "I then took the body along to the tip," admitted Maurice. "After sifting through the bits I drew up a shortlist of what was missing: there was no cylinder head, no valve gear or bevel gears and the exhaust was past it. Of course there were no brackets or framing for the body proper and the bonnet sides were useless. The screen, too, was missing although I did find the old frame which was subsequently restored." The magnitude of what lay ahead was becoming apparent...
A cylinder head was located after trying a Morris Minor item which proved to be incompatible. It appeared that the original head had been sent off for skimming but that the firm had managed to lose it. Barry Bone, the MG specialist in Brighton, proved to be very helpful in locating and supplying new and secondhand parts all through the rebuild. The block itself needed cleaning up because it was rusty; it was then refaced on all sides. The crank was reground and the bearings re-metalled, Maurice making up a simple jig to facilitate the operation. The block was then rebored and new pistons and rings fitted. The front pulley had worn so was turned down and re-sleeved. The starter, unsurprisingly, proved to be inoperative but was not too difficult to repair; the dynamo had to be stripped and rebuilt and to finish the ensemble, a 6 volt coil from a Volkswagen was fitted. "It provides a better spark and looks quite authentic," Maurice told me.
With the engine largely completed, work could commence upon the chassis. The differential was found to be serviceable but the rear axle needed new bearings and oil seals as the originals had deteriorated. The phosphor bronze brake bushes were in fine fettle and so were retained. On the chassis proper four or five rivets were replaced before the whole apparatus was chemically dipped, primered and painted with black coach enamel. Up front, the axle's kingpins, bushes and brakes all required work and again Barry Bone came to the rescue with odd items. One advantage of working with MGs, as with Austin 7s, is that there seem to be plenty of specialists around.
Maurice's car had no brake cables to speak of so our new owner set about learning how they worked and made up a set. The system comprises four rods and four cables and where the rod and cable meet there have to be left- and right-handed yokes. Utilising his engineering knowledge, Maurice triumphed.
Wheels were next on the agenda. They are basic Morris Minor items, attached by three studs. These were also chemically-dipped before being painted and re-attached to the chassis. He thus now had a rolling chassis and was able to spend some time on the gearbox and ancillaries before getting to grips with the body proper.
Stripped, the gearbox's cogs were found to be in reasonable order, only requiring a good rub with an oilstone. The propshaft and handbrake mechanism were located and then all the major components were married up and dry assembled on the chassis, new rubber mountings being fitted for the engine. It was not necessary to fit it all in situ as Maurice merely wanted the mechanicals in position to help him with reference points as he began work upon the body.
"Before I started on the body I made up four rigid supports for the shell. These were very important as you can't do anything unless all your planes are precisely level. I made constant use of a plumb line and spirit level to ensure that all the angles were as exact as possible." When you view the complexity of the job you begin to see the wisdom behind this forward planning.
To help with the construction of the body, Maurice contacted UK Restorations of Maidstone. "They examined the chassis and were able to supply drawings, together with some pieces of ash and ply. Some were shaped but most weren't. It certainly wasn't a kit." For an outlay of £500, Maurice was now able to proceed.
An initial hurdle to be overcome was that of the vehicle's floor. The chassis design dictates that it is on two levels and it proved fiddly to make up sections around the gearbox and bulkhead. Templates, together with trial and error, paid off eventually, though, and it was firmly located to the chassis. The whole was then treated to a covering of preservative, administered by the garden spray! The prop shaft tunnel had to be allowed for and this was replaced by a metal shroud.
Supports for the body sides were then made up and the wooden verticals were screwed and glued into these bases to ensure rigidity. There are four main cross-pieces on the M type and it was essential to incorporate as much strength as possible into them. "Make the door opening first, then the door," advises Maurice. "It's a lot easier that way around."
In order to shape the various curves (some of which were of double curvature), Maurice hit upon a painstaking but nonetheless simple method. A hot kettle and a wad of felt proved to be effective when the hot felt was laid on the plywood. Two or three applications usually resulted in the glue softening up and the wood was then strapped or weighted to retain the desired curve. "It isn't that difficult," Maurice said modestly, "but you do need patience!"
Doors proved simple to assemble from the plans and they incorporate little pockets. Rescued from the boxes of bits were the original door hinges and locks which, with minor adjustments, were hung on to the body. The next job was to fit the fabric body itself. All the car, with the exception of the bonnet area, was thus covered; interestingly, export models apparently did not receive this treatment. Thin haberdashery padding was attached to the panels with glue and this was covered with warmed Rexine - a local upholsterer gave advice here. This was largely tacked on but glued in places of stress. Aluminium framing was acquired from a coachbuilder's in Ashford and this was cut and trimmed and screwed on to complete the body proper.
One last task was to cover up the rear axle on either side of the body. Steel plates were shaped over cardboard templates; Maurice admits that they're somewhat haphazard but he was unable to obtain any good photograph of the original fitments.
Inside, the dash was hopelessly wrong so Maurice made up his own, out of mahogany, from an advertisement of the car. He learned the mystic art of French polishing and the whole was then marine-varnished. The instruments were a mixed bunch: a new centrifugal speedometer had to be found, the ammeter proved serviceable but the oil gauge was past restoring. Amazingly, a replacement from a tractor saved the day. By now, too, he had located replacement bonnet sides: these are fluted affairs and required trimming to fit the actual car.
As for the upholstery, this was the last big area for attention. There was nothing to salvage from the "TC" so seats were made up from scratch. An old Minor yielded its interior and the seats were stripped. Springs were retained and these, together with webbing and hessian (foam wasn't around in 1928, remember!) were covered in Rexine. The tricky fluting was farmed out to a specialist. At various stages Maurice used his Austin 7 as a guideline and was able to complete most of the work, save the heavy stitching.
By this stage there remained only the little items to attend to. Most of the chrome was replated and attached. The screen frame was used as a guideline for a template and a local glazier then made up the distinctively curved screens, a feature of the M type. Another upholsterer manufactured the hood; it's a pretty ugly affair when raised but since the UK isn't blessed with predictable weather, it proved to be a boon on odd occasions. The single wiper is not original and the headlights are a compromise - but generally the car is extremely well-presented, and a credit to Maurice's skill an dedication.
Out on the road the Midget lives up to its looks. Entry is not difficult via the rear-hung door and the lower part of the steering wheel isn't overly close to the seat. That said, the driver is obliged to hang an elbow out over the cockpit side if comfort is desired. Seats are firm and supportive and the only real difficulty lies in getting used to the pedal layout. It's an inverted triangle arrangement, typically Morris, with the clutch on the left, brake on the right and a button of an accelerator under and between these two. Great for heeling and toeing and economising on space but a nightmare for the long-legged or stiff in limb.
Instruments are straightforward with a flip-down ignition switch, pull-out choke and push button start. This particular car didn't like idling so it meant pressing on with the trip each time I took her out. Once warmed up, though, the problem did not recur. The three speed box proved to be easy to use, at least on the up-changes; down through the box called for a degree of practice to avoid those unseemly noises. As there's a dog-leg first, it's more than easy to shove the car into reverse in error if you're not careful; this latter undertaking would doubtlessly aid the cable brakes which were adequate, at best.
In good old MG tradition, handling was exciting yet safe on those tall wheels. The M type has a limited turning circle and that single SU carburettor did its level best to push up the bhp so progress was never embarrassing, except on the occasional long hill. That said, there is plenty of low-down torque and the car was quite happy to pull away in third from around 15mph. All in all, the vehicle gave me a week's pleasurable driving, provided the top could be stowed. In retrospect, I think I'll have to reconsider my philosophy on the TC after all...
Alwyn Brice
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