Even an unfinished MGB is still a proper sports car

CARBURETTORS, bodywork, master brake cylinders and bonnet release cables. These are just a few of the things I'm no good at repairing.

The chap working for the RAC who I called out to revive my Rover after it temporarily died during a week of being stood in the snow while I was gadding about in Germany will already know what I'm about to tell you; despite everything I say about cars, I am no good at repairing them. Mechanics, like open-heart surgery or trying to explain the cultural appeal of Ant and Dec, is a complicated affair which I cannot hope to understand.

As a result my hat goes off to my dad, who definitely does understand how engines and cars work, ans has - over the past few months - been appointed Project Leader on the restoration of an MGB I bought last year. Nope, it still isn't finished yet, but so far he's done a cracking job.

Since last July, I've watched the '72 GT evolve from a stationary crock in a shed in Cumbria to the fully-functioning beast it is today, and though it's still a long way off from that glorious day in Spring when it'll all be finished, I have finally driven it. It's not as good as I was expecting a sports car designed in the early Sixties to be. It's much better!

I could have bought a MK1 Mazda MX-5, the sports car I actually wanted in the first place, but being an idiot I bought the MG instead for much the same reasons I bought the old Mini; I bought it because it's as smoothly sculpted as the Lakeland countryside it was resting in and because I almost felt duty bound as a petrolhead to get a bit of Britain's illustrious sports car heritage back on the road.

Despite a history of dramatic breakdowns I loved my old Mini because it felt like a sports car, but this rear wheel drive, two-and-a-bit seater with one of motoring's most evocative names actually is one. To quote the Project Leader, the newly-fettled BMC B-Series lump makes the whole car "pull like a train" but to focus on that alone would be to miss out on the beautifully balanced steering you get through the gorgeous Mota Lita wooden wheel and the throaty noise you can when you give it the beans. It's an MX-5 with an understanding of real ales.

I'll be honest; at first I wasn't sure whether the Abingdon old-timer was ever going to live up to my expectations, but now I can't wait to get it to the Buttertubs Pass in North Yorkshire and find out what Britain's best driving road feels like from a proper sports car.

It's just a shame I'll be no good at mending the inevitable mechanical guts that come with the full-throttle glory. Watch this space...