By Dean Sprague
It was early summer in 1964. I was driving my Mother’s 1953 MGTD from Asheville, North Carolina to Fresno, California. This was to be our new home (again) so I packed the car from stem to stern including a trunk on the luggage rack with most of my valued possessions. This was the first time I had traveled alone. I was supposed to wait and go with my Sister, Mother and her friend but I wanted to get there earlier.
I left about 5:30 AM and all went well for the first half of the trip. The Interstate network system was still under construction but you went in about the same direction as I 40 is today. I remember driving on portions of US70 and RT 66. Actually, it was a very pleasant drive, not too hot yet and at times a little cool but the Arnold heater worked well. I was driving about 55 to 60 mph at or under 4000 rpm. I drove across Tennessee, Arkansas and Oklahoma occasionally stopping at rest stops for catnaps (fun in a TD by the way). I was almost into Texas when I heard a big boom!!!!! Then power fell off suddenly as the engine dropped to 3 cylinders. I knew this was not good. I was half way to nowhere so I slowed down and keep pushing her over the border into Texas. I limped into the nearest service station and discovered I had oil (a lot of oil) all over the engine and running down the left wing and running board. The attendant looked at the car and said, “Is that one of those foreign cars?” It was official; I was in trouble. The good news, he thought he had seen that same emblem (you know the one on the radiator shaped like an octagon that says “MG”) down the road near Amarillo somewhere.
I thanked him. I bought a case of oil, topped her off and headed for Amarillo. I could only make about 40-45 mph and had to stop about every 30 miles and put in another quart or two of oil. It was a long slow trip but I made Amarillo by late afternoon. It was on a Saturday. I stopped at the first gas station I could find to ask about this garage that had the octagon shaped sign on it. The attendant said, “That’s one of those funny foreign cars”? A question whose answer I felt was self evident- maybe it was a Texas thing, but he was nice enough. He gave me directions to the end of town to the end of a dead end road. There it was an old WWII Quonset hut converted into a garage. Over the top was a string of signs that read Austin Healy, Triumph, Morris and MG! I couldn’t believe my eyes! I drove in skipping on my 3 cylinders when an old man (probably 40 or so) wearing a greasy ball cap and matching coveralls came out. He took one look at the TD loaded to the gills with North Carolina plates and oil running down her side and said, “Where you headed?” I introduced myself and told him Fresno, California. He (Al) said, “Boy, you got some trouble” another understatement. It took him about 5 minutes to determine that I had blown a piston. He was right I had trouble. Al told me it was too late to do much work on it today so bring it back on Monday. Well, I was 16 years old and had very limited resources (an understatement) so I asked him if I could sleep with the car. Al smiled and said, “Get in the truck son you can stay with me and my family”.
Sometimes the best things come from the greatest adversity. I had a wonderful weekend, ate some real Texas barbecue (it was different from North Carolina vinegar based I knew) and made some new friends. One in particular. Al had a very pretty daughter named Melissa. She was more than beautiful. She had long auburn hair, alabaster skin and green eyes that looked right through you.
Monday came and I helped (well mostly watched) him take it apart. Sure enough number 3 piston had a hole right thru the middle of it. He said we could fix it with a used piston. Along the inside of the building he had long wooden shelves where there were engines, transmissions, front and ends etc. He must have had a dozen Morris10 (XPAG) engines. He found a piston that fit perfectly then replaced the rings, some bearings, gaskets and oil. By the end of the day it was running like new! Of course, I had to call my Mother to wire some money. I can’t remember how much it was (isn’t it great being a kid) and I was ready to go. Al said, “You know you need to break those rings in” I think I said what? He then sent me to an abandoned airstrip where I learned to break in rings quickly by making five zero to wide open runs then back to his shop to repack the car and get a final tune. Al invited me to stay another night but I felt I needed to get going California since I was already 3 days behind, besides another evening with Melissa…I would either be in “love”, big trouble or both. I completed the remainder of the trip without mishap.
I acquired the MGTD from my Mother in 1969. I gave it a frame-off restoration, which I completed in 1999. That was the first time the engine was apart since this repair. It provided five more years of daily driving, one more cross country trip and two trips up and down the east coast and she never skipped a beat. I often reflect on this adventure and wonder if anybody today would or could be as trusting and accommodating as Al and his family were to this young man in trouble. I will always remember their kindness. He was a great deal more than just a good mechanic. Thank you, again Al.
