Frontline MGB 2.5 review

Yahoo

06-02-2025

Does Abingdon-based Frontline still need an intro? As one of the most established names on the restomod scene, perhaps not, but herewith the nutshell.
In 1991 Tim Fenna began to develop competition-reliable parts for classic MGs, having been repeatedly let down by the company's original gearboxes. By the 2000s, Frontline was the worldwide go-to for performance parts for these cars, whatever your requirement or application.
In 2010, it moved to its current home, the old Benetton Formula 1 team factory, and not long after that it started making full MGB restomod rebuilds – first up the LE50, with a modified 2.0-litre Mazda MX-5 engine.
More than a decade later, Frontline is still focused on the MGB, although the interiors have become more artful and the hardware more serious and ambitious than ever. Two years ago, the company introduced the spectacular 4.8-litre V8-engined LE60, with performance to hunt down a modern BMW M4 CSL, as well as the BEE GT, an electric conversion built in response to demand from clients wanting the thrill of driving a diddy, expertly honed MGB, only in near-silence.
Here we're focusing our attention on neither of those cars but the unassuming 2.5. Don't be misled by the prosaic name. Screw any suspense: here is one of the sweetest, most neatly conceived restomods we've driven in the past year, or any year, which goes some way to taking the sting out of an asking price close to £150,000 and a waiting list that runs to two years.
The basis of the 2.5 is standard Frontline fare. You can supply your own old MGB for conversion, although Frontline prefers to use a fresh shell from British Motor Heritage, which owns the tooling from MG's old Abingdon factory.
Sales director Conner Matthews explains when we show up to collect our test car that people often have a good donor car, but even if you acid-bathe and shot-blast the best, there are areas you still can't quite get to.
He also mentions the fact that the MGB has a unique, inbuilt advantage as a restomod subject, stemming from its conception. 'Remember that in 1962, the car was first developed as a roadster, not a GT that they cut the roof off, so it was already a very strong chassis,' he says.
'What let it down was the fact that all of the adjoining panels weren't seam-welded. So we seam-weld them to FIA specification and that strengthens the entire body.' As such, a Frontline MGB needs no additional bracing (beneficial for weight-saving), although the comprehensively revised rear suspension does aid stiffness.
So that Frontline's conversions identify as true restorations, not Q-plated kit cars, the live rear axle remains. But it's markedly adapted, now using a six-link set-up to stop the axle wandering independently of the body. There's also a Quaife differential, strengthened half-shafts and new bearings and seals.
Up front, the 2.5 retains the original spring pans, lower arms and drop links, but the top half of the strut is bespoke. Crucially, none of the adaptations require lots of holes to be drilled in the shell, and it's easy enough to return a car to standard.
This example – a development car fondly known as Sue – is also running manually adjustable Nitron dampers and a hefty brake kit with ventilated discs.
From a technical perspective, this is an involved project, although you forget the detail the moment you hit the road, so instantly comfortable, intuitive and enveloping is the 2.5.
Beyond electric power steering (EPAS), which is adjustable via a little dial under the dashboard, there are no driver aids whatsoever, but such is the transparency of the car that even on greasy back roads you're quickly exploring the upper reaches of the engine.
And it's a cracking little engine – perhaps the defining element of the package and enough to make you wonder why you would ever need the added meat and inertia of the LE60's Rover V8.
It's a crate Ford Duratec with ported heads and new pistons. Frontline also fits its own fuel injection, hotter cams, valves with stiffer springs, plus a new ECU and exhaust. It totals 289bhp and 240lb ft and spins out forever – a sensation enhanced by the long arc of the gently sprung throttle pedal.
It finds an easy balance, peeling into bends steadily but accurately, with your fingertips on the filigree Moto-Lita wood rim. It grips well enough but leaves room for antics.
Roundabouts become your best friends, the car's combination of Quaife diff, light nose, outstanding visibility and razor-sharp throttle response coming to the fore. Pure joy.
Yes, there is something a bit rudimentary about the handling, which isn't perfectly cohesive at all times, but that's the point: it's authentic, a touch rustic. The B is of course also tiny. For those of us used to moderns, it's so refreshing.
Ride? Good. Connected but not brittle and totally unflustered on the motorway (the Nitrons were about in the middle of their 21-click range for bump and rebound). Pedal weights are sensible; the clutch is reasonably forgiving; and the 25kg of sound-deadening that Frontline chucks in helps make the 2.5 only a little less polite than a Toyota GR86.
Naturally some will pine for a racier experience: lose the EPAS, quicken the rack, deeper buckets, a bigger contact patch to eradicate understeer, more mid-range wallop (hello, V8). And Frontline will do all that for you.
Equally, it's difficult to imagine a more versatile, honest and charming restomod than dear Sue.
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