In 2011, with the help of Jeremy Whittle, I stumbled across the find of a lifetime. Tucked away in a garage in central Georgia was a 1971 2800CS, sitting right where it was parked 4 years prior. It hadn’t moved an inch since its owner brought it home: after discovering the cost of the parts and pieces needed to take the car from clean to perfect, his interest waned, and it was by sheer chance that I was the first to call when his Craigslist ad was posted.
I remember the first time I saw Ron’s 1971 2800CS quite well. I was at the StanceWorks HQ, and having just finished up bolting on my newly acquired Work Meister S1s to my E38, I was feeling pretty jazzed. After pulling the car outside to admire the new wheels, we heard an M30-powered car ripping towards us.
Any true BMW enthusiast is quite familiar with the E-series chassis codes. “E”, short for “entwicklung”, or “evolution”, was paired with a different number to differentiate each new BMW chassis from the last. For instance, the most commonly known code, “E30”, denotes the 2nd generation 3-series in its entirety.
There’s something special about classic cars. Their defined lines and established curves, strangely inviting, even to those who don’t know the difference between wheel and tire. Yet somehow, there’s a bond seemingly everyone shares over these few remaining pieces of history. It’s as though the presence of a classic car is enough for even the busiest of people to pause for a moment, if only to look and smile. But if they look twice, it’s only a matter of time before they ask.
I am guessing that it’s rather apparent to most people that I am a diehard BMW enthusiast. I’m sure there are a certain number of people who would also argue the point, but nonetheless, I’m as pro-BMW as they get. I’m probably most known for a car I put together which goes by the name of Rusty Slammington.