More than a Mayfair…
Simon Heap is my kind of chap. He doesn’t always like his cars to be the way they left the factory, but the way he chooses to improve them is to make any addition look like a factory fit. Rear head restraints, for a kickoff – never fitted to a Maestro yet his 272000 mile Mayfair has them. Ditto a CD player – made by the same company as the standard radio, and subtle enough to not look out of place. Power steering – a genuine factory option – is another retro-fit to the car, as is Trafficmaster (Complete with a branded side panel – you’d have to be clever or an anorak to tell it wasn’t stock). The MG alloy wheels set the car off further, and being standard Maestro items looked like factory fitted parts. Having never driven a Maestro 1600 with PAS, I was intrigued as to how it would feel, and Simon was more than happy to pass me the keys. It would also be interesting to see how well the car had lasted given it’s intergalactic mileage.
Power steering seemed to make little difference to the driving experience; having driven a few non-assisted Maestros I can only conclude that the Montego I drove first had something wrong with the steering or suspension. Power assistance is only really needed at very low speeds, and the rest of the time it feels like a standard example. In Mayfair trim the car is plush, comfortable, and smooth, and Simon (who had come along for the ride) commented upon just how serene an experience it is from the passenger seat. Pushing the car didn’t really seem appropriate, yet I was given the impression that the car had power and torque aplenty for most normal circumstances. I was really starting to enjoy driving this car – a car that even began to tempt me from an ownership perspective – but there was a tiny fly in the ointment.
As I have alluded to in the past, the VW gearbox in 1.3 and 1.6 Maestros is not renowned for it’s friendliness. I have read of it as being notchy, indecisive, a pig, and worse, unrepeatable terms. Simon’s Mayfair was the fourth car I’d driven with this gearbox, and I was beginning to think the nay-sayers were talking rubbish. More than anything it seemed, smooth, comfortable to use, and with a pleasant action despite the mad position of reverse in the box (Push and to the left of first is not where or how I am used to finding reverse, I prefer it to be underneath fifth). But changing down from third to second, I discovered that second gear and first gear had sloped off to the nearest pub for a quick half whilst they weren’t being used and hadn’t yet returned. Back into third I had to go, before declutching again and there they were – having clearly realised that they may be needed. I’m not quite convinced by the naysayers, but any praise of the box I may make should be taken with a pinch of salt.
The rest of the car was superb – from the cosmetic angle despite my dislike of silver, from the interior, and the driving impressions were on the whole favourable. The modifications I’ve mentioned set the car off, but the neatest touch is the one I’ve saved until last. An MGF rear view mirror. “Big deal!” I hear you say. It is – the MGF mirror has map-reading lights in the underside, which Simon has wired into the Maestro loom. Something the factory should have done but didn’t, and possibly the most useful modification to the car. As with any of the other – brilliantly subtle – changes he has made, you need to know your stuff to sense anything is out of the ordinary. And that’s what I like about this particular Maestro Mayfair more than anything I have written so far. It’s not standard, it’s better. And the man on the street has no way of knowing what is or isn’t original. As far as raising the profile of the Maestro goes, Simon’s done a top job.