RICCI’S GARAGE
Mark’s finally admitted defeat on a project... in to order finance another
For many years I’ve jumped head first into the most terrible financial decisions imaginable, providing they’re car shaped and have some form of interesting story behind ’em. But for once I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.
Last year, I went and bought a 1989 W126 Brabus Mercedes. It was originally German owned, had half a million kilometres on the clock and had once been a seized company asset. Obviously. But it had also been left in a leaky barn for 15 years without a cover, so while the underside remains oddly solid, the bodywork was toast.
It’s an Eighties Mercedes though, so surely it wouldn’t take much to get it running? That’s what I thought, until a ‘specialist’ tried to charge me £17,000 to get it roadworthy again. Thankfully, I had smelling salts to hand, so when I regained consciousness, I trailered it down to Ned Davis Motors in Rothwell, which is handily two minutes from my house, to get a proper idea of what was actually needed and what was priced-up nonsense.
With just a few key service items – including a rebuilt throttle body, replacement fuel pumps and cleaned injectors – the Brabus came back to life. And with a bit more fettling, Matt got it starting first time on the key and idling perfectly. It even drove straight and true, remarkable given how long that it had been laid up for. Things were looking good.
Right up until the point I received a quote to put the bodywork right. I’d exhausted the smelling salts by now, and if you’ve ever had some bodywork done on your car, you’ll know how quickly costs can spiral out of control. The more you dig, the worse it gets. And in the case of the Brabus, every single panel needs repairing or repainting – all 5.16 metres of it. Which makes it an expensive job.
I didn’t want to sell it. I actively hate selling cars because the process requires entertaining many people keen to waste your time or who simply want to try and kick you in the nuts. In fact, I’m pretty sure selling an Eighties Mercedes is one of the tasks on the next season of SAS: Who Dares Wins.
Thankfully I know a man who hates money even more than me. A man whose nickname is the ‘shitbox collector’ and resides all the way in Chicago, Richard ‘Fish’ Fisher. We’ve known each other too long and one of his old cars – a 190e Cosworth – is sat in our lock-up. So it’s only fair to send him a silly Mercedes back.
The issue now is the fact I still own a Brabus W126, because for some reason I thought it’d be good to own two. But now Fish owns the other... and while we’ll never admit it, this will quickly turn into a competition of who can build the best. I’m far too stubborn to admit defeat, so expect to see many other things appearing for sale soon to try and keep up with him. What could possibly go wrong?
“EVERY SINGLE PANEL NEEDS REPAIRING OR REPAINTING – ALL 5.16 METRES OF IT”