What is that one car that you can never, ever get out of your head? You know the type – maybe it’s a car that you didn’t expect to see modified, or a car with those dream wheels you’ve always wanted, or a car with paint so nice that you wonder what kind of wild magic the painter pulled off in the booth.
Classic car prices are exploding… and us classic ’80s and ’90s BMW fans are watching in terror as cars that were once disposable and cheap have reached new heights in value. The icons of the era, like the E30 M3, are well more than double their cost when new, while poorly kept examples headed for the junkyard have moved from a “few hundred” dollars to a “few thousand.” As these classics age, it makes finding worthwhile examples exceedingly tough, too.
Picture this: a “Utility Yellow” Chevy 3500 stake-bed truck, formerly owned and operated by the Pennsylvania Department of Transportation. Imagine the neglect and rust you’d expect to find under and within it, thanks to a life lived hard and put away wet. Think of the “government fleet vehicle”-spec trim and complete lack of features of any kind, including a vinyl seat and vinyl flooring. It refuses to start without ether or compressed air in the fuel tank.
The Porsche 911: If you ask me, it’s the quintessential sports car, and defines a genre. It’s also undeniable in both its form and figure; wholly unique and unmatched by any rival. The 911’s shape is its own and nothing but, and both enthusiasts and laymen alike know it well. Today, we take a quick look at the presence of a firmly-planted example, photographed by the talented Alex Pfeiffer, perched in the hills of Austria.
There it was, parked under a tree. Three years of rain, snow, leaves, and dirt shrouded what was once a beautiful example of a 1973 Mercedes Benz 450SE, but instead, it sat with 3 inches of standing water inside of it, along with an abundance of mold and resident spiders, living lavishly by most measures. “All it needs is a fuel pump,” Jose Torres was told by his brother in law, the second owner of the car, feeding a line familiar to Craigslist conquistadors like you and I.