Thoughts over here.
I never owned a B, because I learned my lesson from my first car, an MGA — don’t buy a convertible.
There are people with hair who can manage convertibles, but I am not one of them. My hair looks bad enough without going through a seventy MPH uncontrolled blower. Or even slower, for that matter.
So I bought a 1967 (pre-emissions, pre-uglybumpers) MGB-GT. It got me through high school. I gave girls rides home in it. It was my preferred car for dates over my dad’s company-car GM behemoths. I loved it in many ways.
But it never got me laid. Sometimes, a car just isn’t enough.