Because I always wanted one, and it's one of those rare things where the having lives up to the wanting.
I wanted an MG because nothing else would do. It's not about the 'safe' or 'practical' thing to do, it's about dreams. It has something to do with an image I had of the heroes of the Battle of Britain; I always pictured MGs parked by their airfields.
It is about green hedges and country roads; an escape from everyday reality to a romantic unreality that never existed anywhere else outside of my heart.
It's because everything looks better through the windscreen, and my wife looks wonderful with the wind in her hair.
It's for the quick, light steering, and the simplicity. It's because of the sudden elation I feel after taking a corner a little too fast and getting away with it .
It's because I like the way my face hurts from grinning after a spirited drive, and because I like the satisfaction that comes from knowing that I keep it running myself.
It's for the fact that, when I drive it, adults smile and kids gawk, and I always seem to meet someone who had one once, and wishes they still did.
It's for the memory of my father, and long runs in the crisp autumn air in his MG.
It's kind of like, if you ask a New Yorker why they would put up with that impossible city; because it's worth it, because it's like nothing else.
If you have to ask. come for a drive. If you don't understand then, you never will.
It's all these things, and more. It's a common man's "something special" in an otherwise ordinary world.