RICCI’S GARAGE
Report 11 Are you after two Brabus SELs? Neither was Mark, but here we are...
It wasn’t long ago when having a friend on the internet seemed a bit weird. Granted, when their display picture was that of a Slipknot mask and their username read XX_GOATSLAYER_99, it was a justified concern. But in 2021 – not least because we’ve all relied on the internet for sanity this past year – it’s now completely normal.
There are still plenty of questionable e-friends out there, providing your search is a bit more specific. Not in a Silk Road way, that’d be very bad. But if they’re into a very particular type of car culture, and they’re from somewhere like Germany, chances are they’ll either be wonderfully eccentric or a cannibal.
Time to introduce Till Dönnebrink. He’s not a cannibal, but he is German. And he’s a man I’ve got to know digitally through several other digital friends. He’s also entirely responsible for the latest idiotic purchase to keep this column entertaining. And if you think I’ve exhausted all personal excuses and now need to blame foreigners like a gammon-faced Brexiteer, you’re absolutely right.
The problem with buying turd old cars like they’re some kind of cryptocurrency is – just like those Forex traders on Instagram – suddenly people you don’t even know start sending you things to buy. The bigger problem is, I have zero self-restraint. My brain instantly assumes that if I don’t pull the trigger now, the opportunity is never going to return. That’s how I ended up buying a Cat C Brabus 560SEL last year. A car which still doesn’t move and, according to one specialist, needed about £17,500 of work in order to make it roadworthy (excluding the bodywork). We never met in person, so I can only assume I have the voice of an 85-year-old woman who’s bought doubleglazed windows three times.
In my defence, how often does a Brabus W126 come up for sale? From what I understand now it’s roughly every nine months. Because another classic Brabus recently popped up for sale (a pre-facelift 500SEL), but this time in Belgium. As the advert was written in German, I asked e-friend Till to check its availability. OK, I rang him. “I’m going to look at the car later – when are you sending the money?” he said in a voice message. “It drives, so Dennis will come with me to drive it back. Send cash, I think I can get it cheaper.”
Buying a second Brabus was slightly more progress than I was expecting, and once again I found myself sending thousands of euro to a man via PayPal to buy an unknown car in a different country. “I have a friend at Brabus, I’ll run the VIN and see if any information comes back,” Till added to me in another voice note.
True to his word, more info was gained. This particular W126 now ran a 560SEL engine, had every Brabus trinket and had spent time in the Netherlands, Germany and Belgium. It also had a wedding invite down the back seats... in Turkey.
Several days later, another series of messages arrived from Till who was now stood in front of the Brabus surrounded by another Brabus W126 and an S70 AMG W140. Fast forward a few more hours and Till was now outside Brabus Classic. “They wouldn’t let me in,” he said. “But I will try again soon.”
In the same message, a short video was attached showing Till’s friend being locked in the boot to confirm its space. I really hope this doesn’t end up being used in a documentary.
Murder mysteries aside, it’s people like Herr Dönnebrink who make the automotive industry such an entertaining place to be. We are all fundamentally a bit odd, and definitely shouldn’t be left alone in public spaces, but we’re unified by the love for these silly pieces of metal which cause all common sense to go out the window.
Which is good, because after flippantly suggesting to Till that we should get a boot mounted aerial for the Brabus, he’s arranged to go and pick one up from SGS Styling in Germany... 250 miles away.
“THESE SILLY PIECES OF METAL CAUSE ALL COMMON SENSE TO GO OUT THE WINDOW”