Your classic
FIAT DINO SPIDER OWNED BY Mike Lowe FROM Adelaide FIRST CLASSIC 1971 Fiat 124 Sport Coupé (BC) DREAM CLASSIC Ferrari 250GT Lusso for the road; Lancia Delta S4 for rallying
I blame Phil Sutton and Mal Simmonds. Back in 1993, as a new arrival into New Zealand, I joined the Waikato Fiat Club in time to attend the Nationals. The Bent Sprint that year was held near Tauranga and Phil and Mal had their Dino Coupés there. I’d never seen one and, after driving them, realised that I would like one, too.
Fast-forward to 1997, and I was off to the US for work and decided to buy a Coupé project to bring home. After scouring Hemmings, I found a solid 2-litre Coupé with no engine or ’box on the outskirts of LA, and a San Francisco car that was so rusty it was ‘pink stickered’.
A couple of days later, I landed in LA, purchased the roller for $700 and arranged for it to be shipped. I then rang the San Fran guy, only for him to drop a bombshell: he had sold the car.
I had a dilemma: I owned a Dino Coupé without its most important asset – its engine – and I needed to find something fast. So I called Wally Clark, who ran the newsletter The Other Dino. He couldn’t help… “unless you want a Spider”.
Even back then, Spiders cost far more than Coupés, but Wally reckoned that this 2000 could be cheap because the owners needed to move it pronto. It was also in San Francisco, so I thought I’d take a look.
The car was owned by a couple of guys who bought it in 1988 after Enzo had died and anything Ferrari was going berserk. It had been given the typical ‘we can restore a
car in 48 hours’ makeover, which basically meant bodging the rust, painting it red and sticking a Prancing Horse on the nose. It didn’t look bad from 20 paces; was okay at 10; and looked like a project close up.
The owner had at least put a new battery in it, but before we cranked it I suggested that we check the fluids. After a quart of oil and two of water, I got it started and off we went – smoking like a train, with every balljoint shot and no brakes. So the negotiations began. I offered $4000; he countered with $12,000 and so on, until he announced that he wouldn’t take a penny less than $9k. “How about $7000?” I asked. “Done,” he said.
So now I owned a Dino Spider… and a rolling-chassis Coupé that Mal agreed to take off my hands. I arranged to have both shipped to NZ – and even paid extra for a Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries-level clean. Or so I thought.
Both cars weren’t exactly pristine, but the inspector was fine until she spotted leaves in the Spider’s scuttle. So the car ended up quarantined for fumigation and thorough cleaning – at my cost, of course. It arrived in Rotorua some days later and, after fettling to make it safe, I took my son Scott (then seven) for the Fiat’s first drive on Kiwi soil.
With some naïvety, I announced: “Two years and she’ll be done, I reckon,” and the stripdown began. Coachbuilder extraordinaire Mark Lysaght, who had done my Abarth, was the obvious choice. Removing the interior revealed some rust, but nothing too bad; the biggest discovery was that the car was originally dark green and I instantly decided to have it resprayed in Giallo Fly.
Once all of the mechanicals had been removed, the shell was sent for blasting: everything from the door bottoms down was rotten. All the panels had to be handmade by Mark because none were then available. Two years on, he needed a rotisserie to work on the car, so my mate Steve and I made one.
While all this was going on, I was scouring the globe for the parts needed to ensure that everything mechanical was new or rebuilt.
As things were completed, they were neatly wrapped and stored because one day soon – surely? – they would emerge, ready to make the yellow butterfly real. Eventually, there was light at the end of the tunnel: it was time to spray the body and build an engine. After 14 years, assembly began in my shed, with Scott lending a hand. Next stop was Ric Ensor’s for the final painting.
Meanwhile, the V6 was taking shape at Mal’s and, after a thorough rebuild, the magic day came early in 2012: fortunately, she purred like a kitten and the project was in full swing… until I dropped the news that I was moving to Perth and wanted to take the car with me.
There was now a lot of work to be done in a few months, so we concentrated on getting the engine and ’box back in before moving it to Hunts Electrical, where Mike sorted all the wiring and made sure everything worked. On 3 March 2013 (my 54th birthday), the car fired on the key for the first time in 16 years and it sounded great.
On arrival in Perth, my first job was to find a house with a large garage then join the local Fiat club, where I made some great friends.
Thanks to the WA Ferrari Club president, I met a Czech trimmer called Sidney, who made a hood, door and boot linings plus carpets from scratch. He’s a perfectionist, so we agreed that he’d take as long as he needed. After all, what was a few more months after so long?
Seventeen years had passed, and finally the day came to put the car back on to the road. After much bureaucracy, it was registered and was then shipped across the continent to my new home in Adelaide where, for the first time ever, I was able to enjoy driving my fully restored 1967 Fiat Dino Spider.
And it didn’t disappoint: it is unique in South Australia, so gets a lot of attention – especially with the sound of that engine! The combination of carburettor intake, cam gear drive and exhaust note make for an intoxicating noise.
A project of this scale took the help and patience of family, friends, specialists and other Dino owners around the world whom I would like to thank. The car is now being enjoyed and fettled as required and, although it may be near-concours now, it is to be used and it will wear its first stone-chip with pride.
‘It had been given a “we can restore any car in 48 hours” makeover, which meant bodging the rust and painting it red’