Mercedes-benz 190D
Hello, my name is Theodore Gillam and I’m a tat-magnet. As an addict in rehab, I’ve taken it one day at a time but I’ve recently fallen off the wagon. I had promised not to buy any more vehicles after acquiring the Jowett Javelin but was led astray and ended up spending £175 in just one week… on three vehicles. The first was an Mot’d Suzuki Wagon R+ fitted with an LPG conversion and a towbar, complete with diddy trailer. The cost of this dream outfit? Free. Now that’s my kind of price. Sarah, my other half, asked: ‘What the hell are you going to do with that?’ To which I replied: ‘Happy Valentine’s day,’ and said it was a gift. Do you see what I did there?
The second vehicle was a ‘Robin Reliant’ in a Gosport garage that I simply had to buy, according to the parents of Sarah’s best childhood friend who lives next door to said tricycle. On wrestling open the up-and-over door, it turned out to be a 1973 Reliant Regal 3/30 21E. Sadly, the owner of the car died recently and one of her sons, Andrew, was sorting things out. After a rare flutter in the Eighties, his mum had won some money and decided to buy the family a car,
using aerosols. Why it was later left there for over 29 years, nobody can actually remember.
My brother-in-law, Matt, acted as pimp and facilitator in this affair: I paid Andrew £100 for the car; we lifted a ton of LPS and general detritus from the coachwork; pumped up the tyres; and man-handled it out of the garage and onto the trailer. Being a 21E, standing for 21 Extras, it has a spare wheel; carpeted footwell sides; chrome bumper overriders; and a steering wheel glove, among other perks to raise the heartbeats of buyers with low expectations.
Today, the bodywork cries osmosis, the bits underneath say tetanus vaccination, and there are greasy bits suspiciously missing from the engine. Needless to say, Sarah had heard about Operation Regal before I’d even got home.
‘What the hell are you going to do with that?’ she asked. I tried making it a gift but it was cruelly spurned. Well, really.
In the middle of all this, my friend Graham rang to ask if I wanted a Mercedes-benz 190 that was mouldering on a neighbour’s drive. Not really, but I went to have a look just to be chummy.
When I saw the 190’s ‘D’ suffix, I felt that familiar tingle in my loins, the algae clinging to the Benz’s paintwork offsetting its carbon footprint. So when Graham later rang to
Three new cars in one week for Theo with a total £175 outlay
announce he’d secured it for £75, how could I refuse? The one-family-from-new W201 hadn’t been used in over six months and looks all the worse for it: the under-bonnet sound-deadening is decomposing all over the engine; the sunroof isn’t quite plugging its hole; there’s an indoor swimming pool in the boot; and various electrical issues are afflicting the user interface. But it’s a diesel, so who cares?
After giving it a minor service, I took it for an MOT test, which it passed after fitting a new brake-light bulb. I’m going to give it a major service before pressing it into use by Gary Middlemanagement. ‘What the hell are you going to do with that?’ asked Sarah. ‘We’re going forward,’ said Gary. ‘Now make me a cup of tea…’ Strangely enough, she didn’t see the funny side. @practicalclassics@bauermedia.co.uk