Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: a small British sports car with a lusty American V-8 engine crammed under the hood. When MG installed the ex-Buick Rover V-8 in the MGB, it promised to give the aging “B” a new lease on life, but it never came to the U.S., and it failed to set the rest of the world on fire. In his short take from the October 1973 issue of the Australian magazine Wheels, editor Mel Nichols had the courage to say what politer British critics only hinted at: “The MGB V8, you see, is a flop.”
I must confess first off that I’m actually not sure whether the MGB GT V8 was ever officially sold in Australia: There were some locally assembled MGB roadsters, but the last of those were completed in late 1972, a year before the V-8 car debuted, and I think that any of the latter that have ended up in Australia were private imports. (Our Australian readers may be able to correct me on this point.)
So, why am I about to show you an Australian review of a British car not sold in the U.S.? Most CC readers are surely familiar with the MGB, the most popular and long-lived of small British sports cars — North American customers bought 345,240 of them, about two-thirds of total production — and many MGB fans have heard of the V-8 version, even if they’ve never seen one. As for Mel Nichols’ review, after reading an array of contemporary road tests of this car, I found his bluntness refreshing.
The MGB GT V8, as it was officially called, was not MG’s idea. Racing driver Ken Costello had had the inspiration of fitting an MGB with the lightweight Rover V-8 (the British version of the 215 cu. in. all-aluminum V-8 used in the 1961–1963 Buick Special and Skylark) in 1969. He found that the 3,528 cc engine would fit with only minor surgery to the engine bay walls and firewall, modification of the steering column, and a couple of adapters. He also substituted the taller 3.07 axle ratio from the ill-fated six-cylinder MGC and added a few cosmetic touches, like a black egg crate grille and a power bulge hood.
Costello got a lot of interest (he did about 200 conversions in the early ’70s, with another batch years later), so officials from British Leyland, the corporate parent of MG and most other British automakers of the ’70s, eventually deigned to take a look at it. Two years later, they rewarded his pluck by cutting off his supply of new engines and rolling out their own version, which went into production in fall 1973 as a 1974 model.
By then, the MGB was more than 10 years old and was being hard-pressed by newer sporty cars, although the roadster version still sold well enough in America.
As Mel Nichols admitted, the MGB GT V8 had strong performance, although it wasn’t quite as fast as the Costello cars because British Leyland used the lower-compression engine from the Range Rover, with 137 DIN-PS (135 hp).
Nonetheless, its straight-line go was still very good: 0 to 60 mph in 8.2 seconds, the standing quarter mile in 16.4 seconds, and a top speed of over 120 mph. With its tall axle ratio and standard overdrive, the engine was turning a relaxed 28.5 mph per 1,000 rpm in 4th/OD, giving reasonable fuel economy.
So, what was Nichols so troubled by? Everything ELSE, basically. He said:
The essential point is this: Does the sudden injection of V8 power really save the ailing MGB? Will it enable Leyland to recapture the buyers long ago lured away by the more worthy performance products of GM, Ford, Chrysler, Datsun, Fiat and company?
I think not.
The MGB V8, you see, is a flop.
Well, Leyland may be able to sell all its diminutive Abingdon works can turn out, but as a motor car it IS a flop.
All the V8 power does is to show up only too clearly the car’s now very long teeth. If you had been charitable enough the last time you drove a four-cylinder B mentally to grant it a stay of execution, feeling that yes, it was old but maybe still good enough to accept a lot more power, then you get out of this V8 version chastising yourself for being so benevolent.
Nichols went on:
For a start, there will not be a soft-top version of the V8. If you fancy the idea of V8 MG motoring, then you’re stuck with the fastback GT. The reason for this, Leyland says, is that the drop-head wasn’t rigid enough for the extra power: tests found too much scuttle shake.
Ken Costello later insisted this was poppycock: He had converted a fair number of roadsters and found no particular problem with cowl shake after adding the more powerful engine. However, I think the reluctance to offer the V-8 in the roadster helped to doom the chances of Leyland offering the V-8 MGB in the United States. By the time the GT V-8 arrived for the 1974, the company was already planning to drop the slower-selling MGB GT coupe from the U.S. market (it disappeared before the start of the 1975 model year), where its place was to be taken by the new Triumph TR7.
While the V-8 car was a good deal more expensive than the four-cylinder MGB, Leyland had been too cheap to even emulate the cosmetic changes Costello had made to his conversions. Nichols complained:
Then, almost unbelievably, there is no change to the fastback body. No bonnet hump, no new grille, no flared guards let alone any new panel work or, heaven forbid, a totally new body, nothing to say that it is a V8 save for four chrome badges on the grille flanks and tail and a set of alloy wheels. Even then the badges come from the Rover 3500.
In the status-conscious seventies, how viable is it for a manufacturer to market a car costing $4700 in England with nothing more than a badge and some rather mildly-styled mag wheels to say that it’s the big mother of the family?
The car is similarly untouched inside, and the only reaction I could get when I saw it and hopped into it was: Hell, it just looks and feels so old.
He also found the car’s subjective performance disappointing. It was quick enough, but, he complained, “it doesn’t feel as powerful as you’d expect. Rather gutless, in fact, once you’re past 4000 rpm in anything but first or second.”
The Rover engine was happy to cruise at 100 mph in overdrive fourth, but the rest of the car made that rather trying:
Its old-fashioned pillars, rain channels, big wing mirrors (a compulsory fitting) and poor window sealing create the grand-daddy of all wind noise problems. At 80 mph it is loud, at 100 savage and at 120 you’re really shouting to make yourself heard.
That, coupled with an inherent instability above 90 mph, negates the performance and cruising ability offered by the engine. … The car never gives you confidence. You’re working away at it all the time to keep on a straight path because it feels as if it’s being buffeted by wind.
Where the V-8 car really proved a letdown was in handling. On paper, it seemed like the lightweight Rover V-8 would be a much better fit for the MGB than the heavy 2.9-liter six in the unloved MGC. A bare Rover V-8 was lighter than the B-series engine in the standard MGB, but the installation involved other changes, including a bigger radiator with dual electric fans, so in sum, the MGB GT V-8 was 167 lb heavier than the four-cylinder GT, with much of that on the nose. (It was still not actually nose-heavy, but its weight distribution was close to even rather than somewhat rear-heavy like the four-cylinder car.)
Leyland relocated the MGB steering column to fit the engine, and also made some suspension changes: The ride height was raised 1 inch and the rear leaf springs were stiffened, allegedly to prevent axle tramp under power. Costello had done neither, and his conversions had handled at least as well as a standard MGB. The factory V-8 cars had a higher center of gravity and more rear roll stiffness, which did their ride and handling no favors. Nichols grumbled:
The tail hops about a bit, and at the same time you have a dead, nose-heavy feeling from the other end. It makes the car feel truckish on the one hand, and flighty on the other.
If you care to use that vogue expression “polar moment of inertia”, which means, how fast a car reacts to throttle and steering reactions, well, the B rates very badly. With the nose-heaviness it is terribly slow to respond to the throttle back-off or steering even though the rack and pinion operates with a quick 2.9 turns lock to lock. The response is the same whether you’re turning the wheel an inch to negotiate a long motorway sweeper at 100, or half a turn to go through a tight back-road corner.
Thus the car is not a pleasant handler at all. It feels heavy and dead in your hands, and acts that way. You react by cursing as you come into a bend and find your nose reluctant to go in tight on the line you want. You grab second and belt on the power to get the tail around in oversteer. Which is crude and rough, and once again not at all what you should be doing in a touring car.
I’m sorry to harp on the point, but really it just feels like a bloody old motor car.
The rear seat of the MGB GT remained suitable only for purses and briefcases, but accommodations for front passengers were fine (although some of the minor controls were fussy), and the hatchback allowed reasonable luggage space for a car this size. Still, Nichols remained discontent:
If the B V8 ever does make it to Australia it will be decidedly poor value in the face of Datsun’s 240Z and any of the Big Three performance-packed sedans or hardtops. It might have the MG name, but it won’t be able to cope very well at all with our touring conditions and so the few good points it does have will be lost.
Having spoken nothing but truth to this point, Nichols closed with a remark that proved to be hilariously off the mark:
I drove away in the V8 thinking it was just another Leyland cock-up, but one made harder to understand in the face of such promising new Leyland products like P76 and the Austin Allegro.
(You can click the links to see how well THOSE worked out. Oops.)
As I said, British reviewers were nicer, but they mostly agreed with Nichols on the merits, or lack thereof. Autocar, for instance, was troubled by the “disconcerting imbalance” created by the suspension changes, and allowed that “in most respects of appointment and comfort, it does not score over the opposition.” (Their V-8 test car also had a concerning water leak somewhere in the rear.) Chris Rees of Motor Sport had fun annoying French drivers with the car’s Q-ship performance, but complained that the lofty price “also buys many 11-year-old features which could have been designed out.”
American buyers didn’t get to find out, at least unless they performed their own engine swaps. Leyland’s official explanation for not federalizing the V-8 car was that it would cost too much to certify for U.S. sale, although there were apparently a small number (perhaps nine) of LHD development mules, some later sold in Europe. The Rover V-8 COULD be made to pass U.S. emissions standards, as Leyland later demonstrated with the Triumph TR8, but in 1974–1975, no other U.S.-market British Leyland products were using the V-8, and demand for the MGB GT was perhaps too low to absorb the expense. (If you’re wondering, there was no truth to the often-repeated notion that GM prevented Leyland from selling sports cars with the ex-Buick engine in the U.S. — see again the TR8.)
Without the balm of American sales, there really wasn’t much market for the MGB GT V8, especially at the price. As Paul Frère noted in Road & Track, British buyers could have a V-6 Ford Capri AND a Mini for the same money. A few months after launch, there was also the oil crisis to consider.
The headline of the Wheels review wondered, “The six-cylinder MGC lasted two years, how long does that give the V8?” The answer was three years, but during that time, sales totaled a mere 2,591 units. The six-cylinder MGC had sold almost 9,000 in its two-year run. So, while Nichols was wrong about the P76 and Allegro, he was completely correct that the MGB GT V8 was a flop.
Related Reading
Vintage C/D Review: 1966 MGB GT – Sometimes, Refinement Isn’t Everything (by me)
Vintage R&T Road Test: 1968 MGB – Fully Synchronized, At Last (by Paul N)
Curbside Classic: MGC GT — Woulda’ Shoulda’ Coulda’ Had The Rover V8 (by Paul N)
Curbside Classic: 1972 MGB GT – Early Adopter (by Tom Klockau)
Curbside Classic: 1978 MGB – Determined To Survive (by Eric703)
In-Motion Classic: 1980 MGB Limited Edition – Taking A Ride With My Best Friend (Joseph Dennis)
No, the V8 was never officially sold here, though there did (and do) seem to be quite a few about. Completely absurd that having sold a huge number of B’s in America they never bothered to try and sell a V8 version there, or, indeed, a drop-top version. Many conversions since have shown that shell to be entirely up to the task.
I have great respect for Mel Nichols. He led the charge of the Oz brigade into British car journalism, which was hitherto awfully staid. He became the first of many, many Oz editors of English titles, with a disrespectful and pointed style that was unafraid to crap on poor cars (or not-good-enough ones from vaunted makers), which not only startled the English writers, but also, over time, demonstrably led to much better cars. As you see in this review, it’s very direct about real faults in the car, and rightly so, but thankfully falls short of the smart-arsery that this cheeky approach also ultimately fostered (arguably culminating in one J Clarkson, insert opinion here).
As an aside about the P76, the fundamentals of that car were always excellent and well ahead of the local Ford and GM products, but the execution (and timing) was, um, shall we say, ugly? And Nichols couldn’t have known that in ’73. As for the all-Aggro, well, let’s just say that in ’73 he likely had optimism that a new FWD car from Leyland, 10+ years after the excellent 1100, had promise…
Yes, that’s exactly why this one struck me. The British reviews noted most of the same faults, but buried them in the usual stultifying politeness and minutiae about the accessibility of the tool kit. (John Bolster’s Autosport review is especially obsequious.) Nichols wasn’t doing a hatchet job, but he said uppfront, “This is crap, come on now.”
The Rover V8 also made it to the USA in the SD1 3500, though in small numbers, and eventually in the Land Rover/Range Rover SUVs.
The implosion of the British motorcar industry in the 1970s remains a sad spectacle all these years later.
There are a couple of CBS News specials (people under about 50 will have no idea what those were) from the era I dearly wish I could find. One was “The Second Battle of Britain” from 1976, in which Morley Safer explored the virtual collapse of British industry, often over simple missteps, like late adoption of electric start killing off their position in the motorcycle market. I don’t recall the title of the second, but it was a fascinating piece that profiled 3 or 4 different men in different countries, all with the same job: assembly line work bolting bumpers onto cars. The vast difference in their economic circumstances was striking, from near-poverty to the American able to buy a ranch as his second home.
I’m going to suggest the CBS report was over simplified. The British motorcycle industry did not die because of late adoption of electric start. It was due to 20 years of no continuous improvement or fixing of common faults. I think much the same was going on in the auto industry.
Senior management in the UK was selected based on what school you attended and what society you ran with so most were grossly incompetent.
The demise of the British motorcycle industry was to a great degree due to corporate looting and generalized “public school” (Think Eton) incompetence. However, the late adoption of electric start was one element that the Japanese beat them with. My personal disgust is focused on the idea of building a transverse 3 cylinder with four main bearings, with a vertically split crankcase. Utterly bizarre and hard to assemble accurately and quickly. The horizontally split crankcase was deemed too expensive!
This should have been been the 1969 MG-C with better chassis turning. That would have sold reasonably well. But the 240Z made it instantly obsolete.
The V8was lighter than the old iron 6 of the MGC which was noise heavy. Alas the V8 was not certified for the US and the unreliable V8 in the Truimph Stag had given British V8 s a bad rap. You had to wait for the TR8 of 1981 but it was too late.
The Rover 3500 (P6B) was available in the U.S. through 1971, which overlapped the run of the MGC. I can’t say it covered itself in glory, but it was (re)federalized.
I loved my 1967 MGB GT MKI .
-Nate
Being largely a dues-paying stranger, here, I have no idea what is thought of dropping the odd URL—but here goes. I found this searching for the source of the lovely R&T quote about the engine design . . .
https://www.mgexp.com/phile/48/166491/How%20to%20develop%20the%20MGC-GT%20for%20modern%20day%20use..pdf
They did sell them in NZ, not many though, I had the brochures decades ago, a 302 Ford V8 fits in just as well.
Never driven one of these but I’ve done a good mix of driving in an RV8, which is largely the same package but with a soft top and a little more power. The review is spot on – especially how skittish they feel at speeds over 80mph.