XXIII MG winter meeting - 14/15/16 March 2014

Click here to print the presentation and registration form

I don't want to recap here all the events and moments we enjoyed, which everyone will cherish forever. I just want to share the wonderful feelings this event gave me and my wife Giusy.

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Max has finally published the presentation of the Winter Meeting, and since January everyone has been dreaming of this event that opens the season of gatherings and outings with our beloved old ladies.
The phone calls between us members invariably ended with the wish "see you at the Winter" and finally March 14th arrived: we collected the MGB from the mechanic the evening before at 8 am, but after three kilometers it broke down dramatically and irrevocably, the mechanic could do nothing but accompany us to the modern car.
Not for a moment does the thought of giving up cross my wife and I's mind. In the first half hour, I convince myself that even at the back of the caravan and without the chance to enjoy the sun and wind with the top down, it will still be a wonderful experience. Then, fate calls.
I also tell my friend and business partner Federico from Ancona about this misadventure, and in true British spirit he heartily offers, even insisting, that I go with his 1966 MGB roadster.
No sooner said than done, we head to Ancona, transfer our luggage once more, and off we go, the adventure towards our dreams and our friends can continue, in the sun and the wind, as Lucio Battisti sang.
In Possagno, the thrill of seeing so many colorful MGs preceded the pleasure of seeing friendly faces again and shaking hands with people we hadn't met in months: the MG Car Club is like the old military service, uniting Italians in the name of a shared pride and passion.
But since we were not made to live like brutes, after the heavenly meringue, the pleasure of seeing not only Canova's works, but also the splendid garden surrounding the museum.
Finally in convoy towards Bassano del Grappa and the subtle pleasure of being able to cross the barriers of the limited traffic zone with our cars to be able to park in the square: what a spectacle, over 40 colorful cars in the setting of historic buildings in the most perfect Venetian style!
The interest, friendliness, and politeness of the people—who even asked permission to be photographed with the cars in the background—made us feel truly welcome. Here, I experienced the meaning of the phrase “warming welcome.”
Max and his Venetian friends, always present but never intrusive or dictatorial, offered us, but didn't impose, a visit to the distillery. Perhaps it was the charm of the bridge, evoked in early childhood nursery rhymes, or the beauty of the city's various corners. I saw several members choose to stroll among the picturesque views or enjoy a requisite spritz with friends, even those they'd just met, but who were immediately available and easy-going, as is a requirement—not written but inherent—of our Club, along with our wonderful guide. And so, from chatter to chatter, it was time for dinner, and polenta was a must!
A quick and delicious dinner featuring various local specialties, though perhaps difficult to judge at first glance given that not only I, but many others, ordered not only seconds but even thirds.
We were so enthusiastic about the wonderful day that we didn't want it to end that when it was suggested that we drive to the hotel with the top down, all of us unfortunates enthusiastically agreed.
And indeed the first few kilometers were exciting, I enjoyed the fast and accurate driving of some TDs that preceded me, but then after a few hairpin bends a feeling of biting cold: wow, so it's true that after Livigno the Asiago Plateau is the coldest place in Italy.
But this marginal discomfort stimulated the heroic and adventurous side that lies in every MG owner and so no one stopped to raise the hood, but rather continued on our very own personal raid towards the comfort and refuge offered by the hotel that seemed never to be reached.
Finally, with my wife no longer cursing me to save her energy, thrilled by the occasion, I entered the providential (but only for our cars) garage below the hotel. After going up to reception and quickly completing the formalities, wow, the Centro Regionale Veneto hit the mark once again: very nice and spacious rooms, value for money fully achieved, and my wife pacified.
What could be more wonderful for a racing enthusiast than to see and hear, while having breakfast, that even though it's early, there's someone more determined than ever, warming up the engine and preparing the car for the day? It's a moment of suspense, but then, thanks to the warmth of the garage, all the cars start on the first try—what a satisfaction.
Off we went to taste and buy Asiago and various types of delicious cheeses at extremely reasonable prices at a small dairy that had only one flaw: being too close to the hotel, so we didn't make any turns. Instead, we consoled ourselves with the smoky flavor of the toma di gallio or the buttery taste of the fresh Asiago.
Then off we go, driving in technicolor, the white of the snow along the road, the blue of the sky and the green of the conifers that forms the backdrop to our multicolored cars: some learned luminaries prescribe chromotherapy, and I really believe it works because when we arrived at the refuge for lunch I didn't see anyone without a blissful smile.
After eating and checking to see if the altitude and microclimate had affected the draft beer, the highlight arrived: not only did the approach to the lands of the Cimbri offer us some beautiful curves, but then the Strada degli Gnomi, starting with its name and the welcome gadgets, projected us into the past, unperturbed by the occasional intersection with bulky SUVs along the narrow, winding road.
How satisfying it was to see the faces of those drivers as they realized that even without four-wheel drive and traction control, cars weighing less than 1,000 kilos could go anywhere, and quickly. Back at the hotel, another test drive: endless hairpin bends along a nearly deserted road, except for a kind camper who, with amusement, made it easier for the elderly cars to overtake, engaging in an undeclared duel with the car ahead and behind.
With their usual foresight, Max and his Venetian friends had put together a program that included plenty of free time, and so, instead of returning to the hotel, several of them visited the interesting surroundings, such as the town of Asiago, with its imposing public buildings and a lively and civilized historic center. One member of the group was killed when he was about to say goodbye to his car due to a fuel leak. The traffic policeman and the tow truck were looming, and only the explanation given for the overflow allowed the red TF to stay with us.
At dinner, after a refresher on the history of the plateau and its cheeses, we also savoured the emotions and sounds of mountain songs, a brief performance that perhaps made it much appreciated.
The fun and games continued. I'd been wanting to do it for years, and finally I dared: I wore a tuxedo to a British car rally, even though James Bond never had the fortune of driving a real sports car like our beloved ones.
Prizes and party favors for everyone, and everyone warmly embraced and comforted by the fine blankets from a well-known wool mill whose name I can't remember now. The evening passed pleasantly, I had the feeling of being at a family dinner with Max pulling out the bingo numbers.
On Sunday morning, we visited the industrious bees, or rather, the products of their hard work. After loading my wife into the car, we headed towards Marostica with Maurizio.
Maria Grazia and her beautiful green MGA cruised along delightful roads that inspire you to return one day to revisit them, but you already know the next ride will be even more beautiful. Arriving first in Piazza degli Scacchi, the pleasure was not only seeing the castle while sipping the inevitable spritz, but also watching the other MGAs arrive, truly beautiful. A sensation repeated in the castle square where we had lunch: how lovely to enjoy an aperitif while watching the multicolored parade of MGAs.
There was also a 356 but, poor thing, it was the classic grey: raise your hand if you wanted one.
Finally, the farewells, particularly joyful this year and harbingers of a see you soon, not only at the next Winter but at the next gathering.
Warm greetings to friends…near and far.

John

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