Do I detect though, with the implication of you having to walk back for a petrol can, that the test run breakdown was caused by something so trivial as having insufficient fuel in the tank in the first place? If so, methinks that her mockery of you may have been warranted.... 
MG Mark
How is that my fault? 
Actually the fuel gauge wasn't indicating that matters were quite so critical.
As for the clutch someone has come to my rescue on the Commervan Fan forum and a set of rubbers and new piston are in the post tonight!
PS I'd no idea the MG was half German! You live and learn! I'm imagining it was taken to Bruggen by some handlebar-moustached roustabout ex-WWII fighter pilot, who then sold it on to a chum, who sold it on to another chu in turn until it fell into your mercies.
I never work off the fuel gauge - one of the MGA's quirks is that the gauge permanently reads 2/3 full and I've never got round to finding out why, as the trip/odometer on the speedo always gave me the signal to fill up every 200-300 miles depending upon how "spirited" the driving had been. However, since fitting it with the the MGB gearbox with overdrive, the speedo needs recalibrating so is currently disconnected, thus, the "fill-'er-up" estimate is now usually done on a combination of estimated miles on the map and time run.
And, yes, the MGA did form an integral part of NATO's Cold War defences, from 1977 (when she was taken out there by the chap I bought it from in 1981) until she came back with me in 1983 - and, yes, he was a moustachioed pilot of fast jets, who had bought it in 1975 from the old garage at the junction of A4 and the North Circular (can't remember its name for now, but I know it's on the receipt for the car from when he purchased it). He used it in UK for 2 years at Cranwell and Lossiemouth and then took it to Germany in 1977, where due to her failing the test on arrival in Germany (dodgy brakes, lack of lights and rusty body work) she then sat forlorn and unloved, whilst he drove around in a brand new TR7 paid for by overseas allowances and flying pay. Uncaring brute.
I clapped eyes on her on my arrival in 1979 and spent 2 years trying to persuade him to sell (because he was going to "do it up"), which he eventually did on his last night before posting back to UK in 1981. Much work later and she became as you know her now. There was also a second stint of defence duties for her out there, based at Rheindahlen from 1991-94, but this time restored to former glory, mobile, and fully capable of a rapid response to any pesky Russkie invasion.
The new clutch bits for the Commer is music to the ears - it sounds like there is every chance that the Commer will be purring contentedly along the old N138 (or whatever it is called now) enroute to Le Mans
. Good luck with the fitting and bleeding
