I remember the day well. It was August 1965, I'd just got back from a holiday with my mates on the Norfolk Broads, and was stoney broke. One of the lads kept a few ducks and chickens on a field next to his house and used to buy stale bread to feed them from a local pig farmer who bought it by the ton from a nearby bakery.

I went along with him for the ride, and discovered in the middle of a field full of pigs, the 1937 MG VA saloon. I was eighteen years old and had only been driving for a year but already had petrol flowing through my veins. The car was a bit dilapidated and already the carbs and instruments had gone missing. It was love at first sight, and I had to have it. (In the same field was a Jaguar MkIV drop head, white with red roof and upholstery, worth a small fortune today but too far gone for my modest abilities. The father of the same mate who had taken me, had an immaculate MkIV saloon which he was advertising for £50 and getting no takers, how times change.)

The farmer revealed that the car belonged to the chief engineer at a nearby paper mill, and that he had already sold it to a scrap man who was coming to take it away the following day.

I had to move quickly or the car would be lost forever. The owner was found and told me that if I paid him the £5 for which he had agreed to sell it to the scrap man, I could have it.Five pounds was an entire weeks wages for me then, and my mum used to take £3 10s off me, leaving me with just £1 10s to run my Standard Eight, get drunk once a week and take out the girls. Times were hard. I managed to scrape together half the money, but another mate agreed to go halves on the rest. Not the ideal solution but better than letting the car go. We towed it back to my place with the Standard Eight.

The journey, although only a couple of miles, involved a long steep climb known locally as Stoneclough Brow. This just about finished off the Standard, which was almost on its last legs to start with.

We rented a lock up garage about a quarter of a mile from where I lived and set about restoring the car to its former glory.

To finance the project I sold the Standard for thirty quid (I had bought it with money saved from a paper round when I was still at school) and started walking to work.
A 1.5 litre Jaguar in the scrap yard yielded a suitable pair of SU carbs, and a set of instruments were obtained from S H Richardson. This left just enough money to buy a few cans of ivory white Tecaloid coach enamel which I applied with a brush. The body work was sound with no rust - the only repair needed was to the rear wings which were coming away from the body. I fixed them back on with strips of fibreglass - not the way I'd do it today, but these were early days.

A spray can of silver paint had the wheels sparkling and the budget even ran to some white paint for the tyre side walls.

The car looked a million dollars when it hit the street the following summer and ran surprisingly well. The previous owner had sold the registration number RN 63 for £5 so a new number - YWH 692 was issued.

It felt really powerful after what I'd been used to, and the gear box with its stubby lever was a delight to use. I even mastered the art of changing without the clutch.

The only problem I had with the car was silt in the fuel tank blocking the fuel pipe. I used to cure this by swapping the pipes round on the pump so that it blew the muck back into the tank. It was also a great courting car with a big back seat and a blind on the rear window which could be operated from the driving seat.

Unfortunately it was costing too much to run and when the insurance came up for renewal, it had to go. After several weeks advertising in the local paper, a Manchester business man arrived one Sunday afternoon - we didn't have phones in those days - with a white overalled mechanic to check out the car.

He wanted it for his son's 21st birthday present. The mechanic couldn't fault it so a price of £50 was agreed. His man came back a few days later with a cheque for the agreed amount and took the car away. I should have known better - the cheque bounced. Eventually I got paid, but only after sending a solicitor's letter, which incidentally cost £1. (Yes that does say one pound.)

The car was gone but the taste for rescuing and restoring cars has never left me, the only difference now is that I have the resources to do a better job.

Fast forward thirty years, and I was having some work done on a Bentley at SVW restorations near Hull. They had records of people who owned the pre-war MG saloons and informed me that the VA was still alive and well and now in the ownership of someone living near Portsmouth. I occasionally dream of owning the MG again and doing a proper job of restoring it, but the present owner met his wife as a result of owning it and is unlikely ever to part with it. I shall have to settle for my memories.

JM

Proud owner. The tax disc reads Oct 1966