“If it’s not really the car you are looking for, pass on it and keep looking.” Those were Miles Collier’s words to me as I was engulfed by the red mist. I was at a Silver auction in Portland when I spotted a handsome 1969 Alfa Romeo Spider. I recall calling Miles from the auction and asking his advice (but hoping he would act as an enabler). The good life My daily driver during my junior year at Reed College in Portland had been a 1967 Duetto. I worked all summer selling men’s clothes at the Macy’s on Union Square in […]
“If it’s not really the car you are looking for, pass on it and keep looking.”
Those were Miles Collier’s words to me as I was engulfed by the red mist.
I was at a Silver auction in Portland when I spotted a handsome 1969 Alfa Romeo Spider. I recall calling Miles from the auction and asking his advice (but hoping he would act as an enabler).
The good life
My daily driver during my junior year at Reed College in Portland had been a 1967 Duetto. I worked all summer selling men’s clothes at the Macy’s on Union Square in San Francisco to save up the $1,800 I needed to pay for it. It was white over black.
I was 19 and owned a Duetto! Life was good, and I made many memories with that car.
Forty years later I felt the itch for another roundtail. It hadn’t yet been scratched when I saw that 1969 Spider Iniezione about to cross the block.
The car checked a lot of boxes. It had been sold new by Griswold in the Bay Area. It was straight, without rust and seemed to run well, with a suspension that had been upgraded by Jon Norman. But it was an injected car, with some concessions to smog and safety.
“I’ve found a great ’69 Alfa. Should I buy it?” I excitedly asked Miles, seeking encouragement. “It’s very close to the ’67 I’ve been looking for.”
He replied, “You told me you wanted a carbureted ’67. If you buy this ’69, no matter how swell it is, you will still keep looking for the ’67 you really want.”
Those few words from Miles have become a touchstone for all of my purchases since then. I now figure out exactly what I want. And then wait.
It took a few years, but eventually a correct and complete two-owner 1967 turned up. I snagged it straight away and have had it for over a decade. It was worth the wait.
I’ve learned the hard way that to buy something that is not the model or configuration I have decided on is a waste of time.
My Merc
When our fabulous Citroën DS21 left, I thought a W114 Mercedes-Benz 250C would be a good choice for our next four-seat cruiser. I started learning and hunting. As they are not rare (nor generally coveted), several popped up almost immediately.
I would never buy a car I found unattractive, so I quickly decided upon the configuration I wanted. No big ugly skateboard bumpers, so 1973 or earlier. No sunroof, as they tend to leak and steal headroom. Air conditioning and power windows were a must. No rust and a decent interior.
Like a hunter in a duck blind, I settled in.
I considered a dozen cars, but all were lacking one or more of my prerequisites. I waited. And was rewarded for my patience.
On last year’s SCM 1000, SCMer Ron Rader pointed me to a one-owner 1972 250C that he thought might work for me, being sold by a friend.
It was an attractive color, metallic blue over white. It had A/C, power windows, a floor shift and no sunroof. There didn’t appear to be any rust or evidence of accidents. (After spending $130k on my Alfa Giulia Spider Veloce, for rust repair and paint only, I stay away from cars with needy sheet metal. Life is too short.)
While the 250C had been thoughtfully maintained over its 50 years, it had never been mechanically restored.
I paid around $20,000 for the car and thought that for another $10,000 I could have a handsome driver. From my research, the top of the market for these cars is around $30,000, so I figured I was safe.
However, when refurbishing a classic, you are not in complete control of the budget. Once you start, you can’t stop until you have touched everything. There is no point to having an old car if it doesn’t start, run, stop or handle properly. Why have a poor driving experience?
One shot
I doubt I will ever own another 250C, so I am willing to pour buckets of money into making this one right for me. This includes replacing the problematic Zenith carbs with Webers, putting in an electronic distributor and swapping the rear end for one from a 300D for more-relaxed cruising.
I am addressing mechanicals only; a solid body and interior were required as a starting point.
Our Mercedes whisperer is Chip Starr, a mechanic and fabricator who is willing to take on interesting projects. He knows I am looking for a reliable, strong-running car for event use. He also knows I understand that the needs of the car will determine how much I end up spending. I am on a slippery slope, but I can’t stop until I have arrived at the finish. With old cars, financial logic is a mostly theoretical concept.
If the “pay to play” cost to have a healthy, reliable, fun-to-drive 250C is $40k, then that’s what it is. Saving a few thousand dollars to have a car that still needs shocks or the correct tires doesn’t make much sense.
As with all my cars, once it’s ready, I’ll listen to the W114 dialect of the Mercedes language it speaks. I’ll drive it a few thousand miles and see if I want to have a longer conversation.
I become more clear about my acquisition technique with each go-round. I educate myself and stay focused on what I want. I search and wait for an example within my budget that is as close as I can get to my ideal. I require cars with good bones.
When I find a car that whispers, “Pick me,” I make it mine. ♦