Frontline MGA Factory Edition | PH Review

Hopefully, you’ll know all about Frontline by now. Founded back in 1991, offering a range of upgraded bits and bobs for MG sports cars – back when they really were affordable two-seat roadsters – it’s really kicked on in the past decade or so with fully-fledged, turnkey restomod builds. You might remember the 2.5-litre Bs of a decade or so back, the LE50 and Abingdon, which have been followed up of late with the sensational LE60 (complete with a 4.7-litre Rover V8) and intriguing BEE. Complete with a battery pack and a manual gearbox. With 35 years of heritage, some proper technical innovations, and a unique spot in the market— MGs are very much not Alfas, Porsches, or BMWs— Frontline seems in a good place. 

The MG A Factory Edition is its latest offering. Revealed at Members Meeting, it takes a lot of what’s made various Bs so good— a spicy Duratec, a beautifully redone interior, an expertly overhauled chassis— and adds them to an earlier MG A base. The main difference is that all the restorative work for an A is done in-house, whereas new B bodies can be sourced from British Motor Heritage.

While timing the Edition’s launch with the A’s 70th Anniversary sounds sensible, when presented with this car, it’s hard not to think that this is what Frontline should have started with all along. The B is the better-known, bigger-selling car, of course, but the A is pretty, dainty, and delicate in a way no B could quite be. It’s properly petite, with a windscreen the size of your phone, Dunlop wheels like saucers, and a track that seems almost shoulder-width. Proper Heartbeat spec, basically, what your grandad would call a proper sports car.

But the Edition stops short of looking like a clumsy homage or shameless throwback. The deletion of some chrome and the removal of a few lights (thanks to new LEDs) helps modernise the A’s visage without removing the traditional charm, and the stance on the Nitron suspension is bob on. It’s both faithful to the original and recognisable, while also usefully refined for a new audience.

British Racing Green over tan will always help that impression, and the fit and finish of a Frontline definitely helps explain why the asking price is nudging modern supercar money. It’s an exquisite little object, from the upholstery to the paint, every join neat and every panel flush. Frontlines tub seats are a miracle in terms of support given how basic they look, the Smiths dials are perfect, the amalgamation of classic details and modern features very nicely judged. 

Some customers would probably be very happy with an A purely as a static object; it really is the sweetest little thing, without being kitsch. But the driving is what a Frontline MG is all about, and things get off to a wonderful start. Doesn’t matter where a throttle-bodied Duractec and MX-5 gearbox go, they make driving a whole heap more fun. The 2.0-litre unit gurgles and gargles under load, there’s not a better manual this side of a GT3, and so little weight – 815kg dry, because the engine weighs a lot less than the old iron lump – means a lovely sense of inertia-free urgency at every turn. 

It’s blooming fast as a result, too. Even with just the 225hp (Frontline will build a 2.5-litre hot rod with almost 300hp if you must), there’s always performance in reserve. The gears in this one are a tad too long, really, not that you notice until checking the speedo; the shock is doing almost 80mph in second rather than any hesitancy getting there. That enthusiasm continues into third as well. And fourth. Although it gets a bit windy by then.

The gears aren’t the dealbreaker they might seem. The snort and the fizz of the throttle bodies sound best between about 3,000rpm and 6,000rpm; Duratecs can get a bit thrashy taken out to eight anyway. Keep it in the sweet spot and the A feels fab, a proper retro racer for the road.

A car like this probably isn’t bought for comfort and isolation, yet the way this Frontline MG goes down a road is genuinely sumptuous. The combination of very little weight and very pricey hardware works wonders, because the A is absorbent and assured in a way no classic ever is. Modern cars aren’t, either, being typically clumsier thanks to larger wheels and more weight. The MG rides like cream poured over summer strawberries, flowing with the surface and never less than silky smooth. It’s remarkably resistant to convertible shimmies and shakes as well. A rorty powertrain and loads of speed were to be expected; a structure of such integrity wasn’t. 

This Frontline is fitted with the company’s electric power steering. As with similarly equipped Bs, it feels like you could probably go without it given such modest rubber (185-section here) and mass. It feels overly assisted, jarring slightly with such a raw, visceral, engaging driving experience otherwise. 

On roads we so often use for testing new cars, the A isn’t far short of revelatory. The dinky size means it fits, the modest tyres mean it moves, the chassis’ quality means you can keep on pushing. Honestly, even something like an A110 can’t match the Frontline for sheer thrills on a B road. Any undesirable noise, vibration, or harshness is filtered out, leaving you with nothing but the sensory joys of a great sports car: the sound of a shrieking twin cam, the smell of hot rubber, the feel of a car on the edge of grip, the sight of a beautifully restored MG, and the taste… er, the taste of the Great British countryside all around. Let’s go with that. It sounds gushing, but, honestly, for those that cherish pure driving thrills, it’s hard to think of much better. 

It’s keener and even more communicative than a B too, and less demanding and better controlled than something like a Seven. A Rocketeer V6 has a more exotic powertrain, but still looks like an MX-5. And it’s hard to imagine they’ve entirely got rid of the shakes. Another Frontline was always going to be a great restomod sports car, but the A Edition exceeds our expectations of it. Those tired with overpowered, overcomplicated supercars can find the perfect palette cleanser in Abingdon – the new model wants for no more power, no more grip, no more control, no more anything. Just a shame, really, that it costs supercar money for something most won’t give a second look: prices start at £145k plus VAT, plus a donor car. So while it’s a beautifully built classic that’s sublime to drive, the A will surely remain in the hands of the dedicated, fortunate few. They’ll love every single second.  

Engine: 1,999cc, four-cylinder
Transmission: 5-speed manual, rear-wheel drive
Power (hp): 225@7,200rpm
Torque (lb ft): 178@4,500rpm
0-60mph: 4.8 seconds
Top speed: c. 155mph
Weight: 815kg (dry)
MPG: N/A
CO2: N/A
Price: from £145k plus VAT and donor car