Guilty Pleasures – The Austin/MG Maestro

See that cartoon image up there? That’s not a work of fantasy. That’s an image that was made for me by the very talented Why Grow Up? designs and is based on a photograph of my old MG Maestro track car. I wanted that image so I could print it on a t-shirt, which I have since done. Why? Because I loved that car, even though I never really did anything with it. But also because I love the Maestro. It is my guilty pleasure.

I didn’t grow up with one in the family, my friends never owned one, and prior to the track car I had, I’d never owned one. Yet still, I always look at them and smile. It’s a peculiar affliction. But before we get into that, we should look at the Maestro itself. 

Introduced in 1982, the Maestro took over from not one, but two cars, namely the Allegro and Maxi. Both cars were getting long in the tooth and so needed to be replaced. It was the design from the team working under David Bache that won approval, though a four-door notchback was proposed, too. However, the five-door hatch seemed to more appropriately tick the boxes for the market. 

Austin did away with the Hydragas suspension of previous cars on the grounds of cost. Instead, the Maestro has traditional MacPherson struts up front and a torsion beam at the rear. It was made available with a range of engines including A Series, B Series, S Series and in the case of the mighty 2.0 MG version, the O Series. There were also some horrid diesel engines, but we don’t talk about those. 

The motoring press loved the Maestro when it came out, which is something critics today are keen to ignore. It drove well, it was incredibly spacious and for its time, it was loaded with tech. Vanden Plas models had a digital talking dash. It was like driving a Brummie K.I.T.T. 

Then, of course, MG got a hold of the Maestro and ramped things up with either a 1.6 or 2.0 engine. Though if you were a particular fan of torque steer, there was also a turbo version. Fitted with wings, spats, sills and spoilers along with more red stripes than a Jamaican beer factory, it was the perfect hot hatch for the ‘80s. 

I think, looking back, that’s where the love started for this car. The MG Maestros seemed, to my young and impressionable eyes, stand out more than the other hot hatches. Certainly, it had a taller profile, which helped it stick out. But more than that, it seemed to be more brash, the wings and spats more pronounced, the lines more angular and rugged. I liked it. And that never went away. 

I also love the potential that a Maestro holds. These days, I don’t need an MG badge to be interested. I just like Maestros. The track car I bought was the one that made me look at them in a different way. You could take a stock Maestro, lower it a couple of inches, fit some 16 inch MG TF alloys and you’d be half-way to having one cool-looking retro driver. At least to my mind. 

And it would cost peanuts to do, which I think is where the true appeal of the Maestro lies. You could buy one in nice condition for about £4. The wheels would be about £1.50 thanks to being a weird PCD (95.2.x4 in case you’re wondering). The springs aren’t much more. Boom, a cool, weird old car for not a lot of money. I like that. It appeals to my ‘never had a lot of money’ sensibilities. 

I also just love British cars. I think the later ‘80s and ‘90s stuff is tarnished with a thick coat of unfairness. I have a Rover 800 Vitesse Sport, which is my second, and I adore it. It’s got a turbo, it’s got factory 17s and it’s got Recaro leather. What’s not to like? Apart from the onslaught of Alan Partridge jokes, of course. 

I like underdogs, I like the cars the masses tend not to, and this is why I like the Maestro. Sadly, the track car was way beyond my abilities, so I sold it on. But in doing so, a seed was sewn. I will have another. I will realise my weird dream of Maestro ownership. I can see it now, proudly parked next to my 800. That’s the dream. 

And let my lust for a weird Austin be a motivator for you. The motoring world is rich and diverse and full of unique gems. Like the cars you want to like, not the cars you think you should like. Yes, people might mock your choices, but so what? If that odd, obscure, generally unloved car brings you joy, that’s all that matters. 

Right, I’m off to Car & Classic to look for a Maestro…