Jezabel (so named as she possessed a somewhat errant nature) was a 1966 Morris Mini Minor, assembled at the BMC plant in Dublin; registered MZI 265. Jez belonged to a succession of relatives before coming into my life in 1982, although by then, the poor little beast was a sorry heap.
Dad drove it from Wicklow to Cork with the driver’s door held on with rope and no doubt, his ears plugged with newspaper. The things you do for your kids…
My initial examination wasn’t promising. The relationship between the driver’s door & the hinge panel was tenuous at best, it wouldn’t stay in third gear, the engine smoked more than a Coal Quay navvy & the driver’s side sill was largely composed of chicken wire & filler. However, the floorpan was sound & it was honest enough.In addition it sported a full-width dash filled with non-working instruments, Ro-style wheels and a natty duo-tone paint job which looked very 1960’s – or so I reckoned.
The next couple of years saw me in a frenzy of stripping, sanding, filling and generally beautifying the little beast with a view to turning it into a kind of replica Cooper. We replaced the engine with a 1000cc unit but had to use an 850 gearbox which did interesting things to the gearing. The hinge panel was welded up but the hinges were worn so the driver’s door always dropped but when it was re-sprayed grey and black, it looked fantastic. However, I was still too young & too broke to drive it – legally.
I finally got it on the road during my first year in college during which time the exhaust fell off, the steering went, I sheared the retaining bolt that held the engine stay-bar in place & I had several near-death experiences teaching my sister to drive. Also, the hydrolastic suspension developed depression at the front which combined with cheapo remould tyres, made the handling somewhat amusing. To say the least.
But I loved it & right up to the arrival of an equally decrepit Alfasud a couple of years later – (my father redefines the term long-suffering) it was my pride & joy. Neglect & lack of money consigned Jezabel to the garage & there it stayed. I started my first job so the oft-promised restoration remained on the back burner. Meanwhile, I moved to London & the Mini stayed put, covered in detritus in the family garage. Years passed. I used to occasionally look in on the poor neglected thing on my trips home. One day, I vowed, I’d get around to that restoration.
It never happened. One day, Dad was doing some DIY & the Mini was dragged out into the driveway. An enthusiast saw it, asked after it and after a brief negotiation, he departed, Mini in tow, vowing to return once the restoration was complete. Jezabel was gone.
They say you never forget your first car & I expect I will always hope to see 265 MZI again someday – resplendent following the rebuild I never gave it. The Jezabel spirit still haunts me…