Think of the world of collectible cars as a giant lending library.
While every book is different, most have just five chapters.
Aware. Acquire. Activate. Exult. Farewell.
These are the five chapters that mark the relationship with every collector car that comes into your life. When the last chapter is completed, it’s time to close the book and return it to the shelf.
When its next caretaker selects the same volume, it is new to him or her — and the cycle begins anew.
Remember that it is only the physical artifact that leaves when you sell a car that has played an important part in your life. The memories stay with you forever.
Aware: This is when you first become attracted to a particular car. In 1968, I bought a clapped-out 1957 Alfa Sprint Normale for $500. As a 750-series car, it had the delicate front eyebrow chrome that I found most attractive. That, coupled with the impossibly perfect lines of the fastback rear glass, left an indelible impression. I was left forever enthralled.
It was not until 50 years later that I found the exact eyebrow Sprint Veloce I wanted to restore — and had the resources to do it properly.
Acquire: The second chapter is the story of how the car came into your life. With the Sprint, it happened 10 years ago. I walked by a gray 1958 eyebrow Sprint Veloce while leaving Concorso Italiano. It had been driven to the event in Monterey from Los Angeles two years in a row. A quick look revealed it had its original engine and all the little bits unique to a Veloce of that era. It was very shiny. I mentioned to the owner that if he ever thought about selling it, he should please keep me in mind.
Ten minutes later, with a contract written on a napkin and the exchange of a five-dollar cash deposit to make it binding, the car was mine. Chapter Two was complete.
Activate: Chapter Three is bringing the car back to life. It took me three years to get the bodywork and mechanicals sorted out.
The engine, gearbox and rear end had to be done. In fact, everything had to be done. The car developed a relationship with every Alfa expert I knew, including Jon Norman, Denny Pillar, Stu Moss, Nasko, Dave Rugh, Guy Recordon, Tom Black, Mike Pierce and Chip Starr.
This was a painstaking, exhausting process. The Sprint was over 40 years old. While it looked gorgeous at Concorso Italiano, upon closer examination — and after some road time — I owned a pig smeared with fabulous lipstick.
It took a village.
Exult: Chapter Four is the reward when you first fire up the restored car. The engine burbled at idle through its pair of side-draft DC03 Webers. I released the clutch and was underway. It was a heady moment. My once imperfect, aged and neglected artifact was a proper Alfa Romeo sports car again.
I took the car on several Alfa Club weekend trips. With each trip, I sorted out a few more things. Soon every switch did what it was supposed to do.
The blueprinted engine with modern cams and a 1,400-cc kit revved willingly to 7,000 rpm. The early-style gearbox shifted slickly, with no grinding or untoward noises.
The brakes stopped the car properly without pulling or squealing.
The fourth chapter culminated with the car going on the SCM 1000. It performed flawlessly. After 62 years of benign neglect, the Sprint was once again a functioning, usable automobile.
Farewell: The fifth and final chapter. I had found, restored and returned my car to the road. It had moved from a visual attraction to a working machine. It’s ready for any tour or rally you might choose.
At that point, I realized I could let the car move on. Its next caretaker could create a new set of memories and adventures.
The new owner will be spared the heartbreaking process of restoring and fettling the car, something I would not wish upon anyone. And something I will never, ever undertake again.
I bask in the memories of all the moments I had with it. Even the anguish of getting the heater-fan rheostat to work properly brings a smile.
The Sprint is gone, but I will have memories of it forever. I took a dream and turned it into a reality.
Our old cars are the window into physical and spiritual transitions in our lives. Through each of their five chapters, they create memories that we cherish long after the car has moved on.
We return the book to the shelf. It catches someone else’s eye and they check it out. As one journey ends, we begin another. ♦
Think of the world of collectible cars as a giant lending library.
While every book is different, most have just five chapters.
Aware. Acquire. Activate. Exult. Farewell.
These are the five chapters that mark the relationship with every collector car that comes into your life. When the last chapter is completed, it’s time to close the book and return it to the shelf.
When its next caretaker selects the same volume, it is new to him or her — and the cycle begins anew.
Remember that it is only the physical artifact that leaves when you sell a car that has played an important part in your life. The memories stay with you forever.
Aware: This is when you first become attracted to a particular car. In 1968, I bought a clapped-out 1957 Alfa Sprint Normale for $500. As a 750-series car, it had the delicate front eyebrow chrome that I found most attractive. That, coupled with the impossibly perfect lines of the fastback rear glass, left an indelible impression. I was left forever enthralled.
It was not until 50 years later that I found the exact eyebrow Sprint Veloce I wanted to restore — and had the resources to do it properly.
Acquire: The second chapter is the story of how the car came into your life. With the Sprint, it happened 10 years ago. I walked by a gray 1958 eyebrow Sprint Veloce while leaving Concorso Italiano. It had been driven to the event in Monterey from Los Angeles two years in a row. A quick look revealed it had its original engine and all the little bits unique to a Veloce of that era. It was very shiny. I mentioned to the owner that if he ever thought about selling it, he should please keep me in mind.
Ten minutes later, with a contract written on a napkin and the exchange of a five-dollar cash deposit to make it binding, the car was mine. Chapter Two was complete.
Activate: Chapter Three is bringing the car back to life. It took me three years to get the bodywork and mechanicals sorted out.
The engine, gearbox and rear end had to be done. In fact, everything had to be done. The car developed a relationship with every Alfa expert I knew, including Jon Norman, Denny Pillar, Stu Moss, Nasko, Dave Rugh, Guy Recordon, Tom Black, Mike Pierce and Chip Starr.
This was a painstaking, exhausting process. The Sprint was over 40 years old. While it looked gorgeous at Concorso Italiano, upon closer examination — and after some road time — I owned a pig smeared with fabulous lipstick.
It took a village.
Exult: Chapter Four is the reward when you first fire up the restored car. The engine burbled at idle through its pair of side-draft DC03 Webers. I released the clutch and was underway. It was a heady moment. My once imperfect, aged and neglected artifact was a proper Alfa Romeo sports car again.
I took the car on several Alfa Club weekend trips. With each trip, I sorted out a few more things. Soon every switch did what it was supposed to do.
The blueprinted engine with modern cams and a 1,400-cc kit revved willingly to 7,000 rpm. The early-style gearbox shifted slickly, with no grinding or untoward noises.
The brakes stopped the car properly without pulling or squealing.
The fourth chapter culminated with the car going on the SCM 1000. It performed flawlessly. After 62 years of benign neglect, the Sprint was once again a functioning, usable automobile.
Farewell: The fifth and final chapter. I had found, restored and returned my car to the road. It had moved from a visual attraction to a working machine. It’s ready for any tour or rally you might choose.
At that point, I realized I could let the car move on. Its next caretaker could create a new set of memories and adventures.
The new owner will be spared the heartbreaking process of restoring and fettling the car, something I would not wish upon anyone. And something I will never, ever undertake again.
I bask in the memories of all the moments I had with it. Even the anguish of getting the heater-fan rheostat to work properly brings a smile.
The Sprint is gone, but I will have memories of it forever. I took a dream and turned it into a reality.
Our old cars are the window into physical and spiritual transitions in our lives. Through each of their five chapters, they create memories that we cherish long after the car has moved on.
We return the book to the shelf. It catches someone else’s eye and they check it out. As one journey ends, we begin another. ♦