The Time I Became a Criminal & Torched an MGB GT for a Friend...

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In the mid-70s, during the energy crisis, people were trying to get rid of their gas-guzzling, full-size sedans in favor of more fuel-efficient compacts. American automakers would need to retool while foreign automakers feasted.

It made no sense whatsoever when a friend of mine decided to sell his gorgeous, white MGB GT. It was a very cool car with a leather interior and wire-spoke wheels, and it was fuel efficient, but the monthly payment was draining him. We all figured it would sell quickly, being fuel efficient and cool, but it didn't. There was little to no interest in the car…

At the time, the big gas guzzlers were being torched so their owners could get out from under them. It became common practice. When my buddy said if he could, he'd have his car torched to get out from under it, my friend and I seized the moment. We'd never thought about torching a car, but there we were, staring at an opportunity. We were only 20 years old…

Frustrated with the lack of interest in what was a beautiful sports car, the owner listened as we told him how we could help.

The plan was to give us a set of keys, and one night when the car was parked behind a local bar/pizza place, we'd come get it. I'd drop off my buddy using my car, and he'd take the MG back to his house, where we'd both get in it and drive it to a nearby sand pit where we'd torch it. We asked the owner not to report it stolen for two hours, giving us enough time to get it done.

The first part of the plan came together nicely, but then there was a problem… Instead of driving directly to his house, my partner in crime decided to go joyriding, driving by his wannabe girlfriend's place of work, a local ice cream stand, so that she could see him behind the wheel of a beautiful sports car. I waited at his house while precious time ticked off the clock, wondering where the fuck he was…

He pulled up a half hour late with a big smile on his face and a story to tell, but I cut him short and said we had to get going right away before the police were called and we got arrested for stealing a car.

We had a full can of gas and a plain white tee shirt wrapped around a rock we planned on lighting and then tossing into the car once it was soaked with gas. We also had a hammer to make it look like we broke in through the driver's side window and a screwdriver to pop the ignition, making it look like we hotwired it…

We weren't pros, but we were confident we could pull it off. It seemed simple; what could possibly go wrong?

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My friend's MGB GT was white, just like this one…

I had ridden in the MG a lot, and I couldn't believe its life would end in my hands. Once we got to the pit and we went to town with the hammer and the screwdriver, it became very real. We had become criminals; we were torching an expensive sports car, albeit for a friend.

After we popped the ignition, all four emergency blinkers came on, and we could shut 'em down. Afraid we'd be seen, using the hammer, we put 'em out for good.

We opened the gas can and soaked the interior first and then the exterior. Once the tee shirt was doused with gas, I asked my buddy for the matches, and he went looking for them and shocked me when he said he didn't have 'em… After a moment of panic, I was ready to kill him. He frantically looked for them in every pocket and then started laughing hysterically when he found 'em. He was just fucking around, he had 'em the whole time…

I was the one who wrapped the tee shirt over the rock, leaving a tale that would make it easy to toss. I was fully expecting to be the one to toss the flaming tee, but my buddy insisted on doing it. He was a hockey player; I played baseball, it should have been my job, but I let him do it, warning him that he had to make a perfect toss. He said he could do it…

We stood about twenty-five feet away from the gas-soaked car, and after I lit the tee, my buddy smiled wide and gave it a toss… Fucking hockey player was short by five feet! It was close enough to be dangerous, and I told my buddy to run up to it, cup it with one hand, and flip it underhand through the missing driver's side window, to which he said, "No fucking way!"

I said, "You gotta be fucking kidding me! You fucked up, and now you want me to do it?" He nodded his head yes…

The clock was ticking, the call was gonna be made soon, and it had to get done immediately. I ran up to the flaming ball of tee-shirt, cupped it, flipped it through the missing window, and then turned and ran like hell. I didn't get to see the car ignite, and I wanted to, but once I was far enough away, I turned and watched it burn for a moment before the gas tank blew. We ran back to my buddy's house like we had just stolen a car, because we did, and we didn't stop until we were in his backyard, drenched in sweat, hearts pounding. It was an incredible adrenaline rush…

I forgave my buddy for all his fuckups, we laughed, and then we high-fived each other, celebrating a job well done. The car's owner paid his tab, walked out of the bar, and then ran back inside and announced that his car had been stolen. The bartender let him use the phone to call the local police. Apparently, some of the neighboring houses heard the tank explode, saw the blaze off in the distance, and called the police long before the owner did. We got out of there just in the nick of time…

It was a one-time thing for us, and it took months for the owner's insurance company to make the payout. What did we get for our efforts? Some beer, some pot, and this story.  

Was it worth it? Ab-So-Fucking-Lutely!

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.