Though he bought “her”, Jim Murphy sees himself not as his 1933 MG J2 3003’s owner but as her custodian.
Three years ago he purchased the vehicle, affectionately named Min, not just with money but with promises.
Her former owner, who had named her after a small-statured character from the UK’s Goon Show, sadly passed but left a list of strict conditions for future owners of the car.
They were that she must be sold to someone who loved her and would drive her, she must only ever appear in a museum temporarily and never be sold to one, and she must never leave the country.
Mr Murphy, overseas-born himself, moved from Ireland to Australia in 1973 and to Shepparton in 1974 to take up sheet metal work at Furphy’s.
He had known and admired Min for years.
He said as a kid it was every Irish boy’s dream in the 1950s and ’60s to own an MG.
“There weren’t a lot in Ireland, and I just fell in love,” he said.
There were around 3000 of Min’s model made; one of the last with cycle guards.
Most things on Mr Murphy’s beast are original, except a luggage rack and a Lucas 160 mirror that he had made by MG Vintage Spares in the UK.
Although, he said, it was stamped on the exact same machine the right-hand mirror was 91 years before, making it identical except for the left-hand bracket.
A regularly oiled 90-year-old leather belt hugs Min’s bonnet, while an original tyre pump, hand crank and tool kit lie concealed in the back.
Mr Murphy hand-made his own fuel gauge, which is a length of dowel topped by an octagon-shaped handle, fashioned to match the octagon shapes behind gauges on the dash. It has to be inserted into the fuel inlet and wherever the damp line is made on the dowel indicates the depth of the fuel inside the tank.
Min skates on four-inch tyres, is cooled by a water pump rather than fans, has torsion suspension rather than hydraulics, uses a generator instead of an alternator and pulls up her timber-floored and steel-railed chassis with cable brakes, not hydraulics.
Mr Murphy has her on the historic register, which permits him to drive her for 45 days each year, so when he sets out with Min in what he says is like a “premier go-karting” experience, he makes the most of it.
As he folds himself into one of the vehicle’s two fixed bucket seats through its stylish suicide door and straps a seatbelt over his lap that was only fitted to meet safety standards sometime after 1937 when laws demanded it, he says it takes him a moment to gather his bearings before taking off.
For starters, the pedals are so close together that a foot could easily compress two at once.
Her four-speed gearbox (an extra gear to many vehicles of the era) is in reverse and her speedo is in miles, so Mr Murphy has to keep his wits about him shifting backwards and converting kilometres to ensure he doesn’t break any speed limits.
Her top speed is 80m/h, which converts to around 130km/h. Mr Murphy likes to cruise on the open road somewhere between 80 and 90km/h.
He doesn’t particularly like to take her on the freeways because of low visibility among modern large vehicles on the roads, but likes to stretch her legs on trips to Dookie and Rushworth.
He said he was quite worn out after a day of driving her because his senses had been working overtime, hyper-tuned to his surroundings, in addition to the mental capacity it took to operate her.
Despite Min having a soft top installed, Mr Murphy rarely takes her out in winter in case of rain, with the floor being English ash and prone to rot if water gets in; however, the timber gives it a bit of give, making for better manoeuvrability.
Min began her life coloured Sherwood Green with a light green interior. The Clipper Blue she sports today was a colour introduced in 1951. The make came in green, red, black and blue, but could be purchased in undercoat and taken home to paint in whatever colour the buyer desired — with a brush.
She was completely restored between 1995 and 1997 — all her metal off, stripped down and timber frame restored by a coach builder. Her current stunning paint job is 27 years old.
It took Darby’s seven days to match the colour when Mr Murphy ordered a tin, as the paint supplier meticulously checked its mixes in all weather and lighting conditions to perfect it.
Comparatively, she cost more to restore than to buy.
“It was a sportster/roadster built for the everyday man and cost 199 pounds to buy new,” Mr Murphy said.
The average annual wage in the UK in 1933 was 130 pounds.
While the engine’s internals have been modernised, everything on the outside looks the part, with looped copper pipes and a single overhead cam. She runs on 98 unleaded fuel “with a touch of additive”.
Formerly used in mud and speed trials, Min won the Melbourne Motorists Concours d’Elegance in 2005 and once took the guernsey in the pre-war class at Nathalia Show and Shine.
“She’s a head-turner, kids are fascinated by it,” Mr Murphy said.
He’s often asked by little ones if it’s a real car, being a picture so far removed from the cars they’ve seen so far in their short lives.
Mr Murphy and Min once took to the track at Historic Winton behind a pace car for three laps.
“You couldn’t get the smile off my face; it was wonderful,” Mr Murphy said, smiling again.
“4500RPM down the strait; it sounded like a race car coming.”
Aside from Mr Murphy falling more in love with Min every time he drives her, the tiny MG also led him to another kind of love. She was the talking point in the first conversation Mr Murphy had with his now wife, who also poetically owned a more modern MG.
If you want to catch a glimpse of Min in the flesh, Mr Murphy is looking to enter the Euroa Show and Shine in October. He also often joins the Cars and Coffee meets at Emerald Bank in Kialla on Sunday mornings.
Other than that, her future remains largely unwritten. Mr Murphy said he would continue making the most of his time with Min.
“I’m not going to leave her in the garage,” he said.
“If I can’t drive her or I’m not enjoying her anymore, I’ll pass her on to another custodian.”