I've Converted

Hello, my name is Courtney, and I have a major addiction. Unfortunately for me, I do not make the kind of salary necessary to support my habit. I should have aspired to be Jay Leno because I, dear friends, am addicted to the desire to own a slew of vintage cars.

For a multitude of reasons, I never would have thought this would be something that I would dream about, lose sleep over, and want to rob a bank to accomplish. I’ve never been into cars and I cringe at the thought of driving anything smaller than my Grand Cherokee. I am thrifty, as anyone who regularly goes junkin’ must be. As well, thrifters must be prepared at all times: This means having enough space to pile a dresser and bed frame into the car at moments notice, simply because the “deals” were too good to pass up. You understand. I always thought convertibles were silly for people who live in the South because really, how often do we have wind-blowing-through-your-hair weather? It’s typically so hot your hair will stick to your face before flying around and so humid you will be soaked in sweat before the end of the block.

That all changed for me about two years ago. I happened to pass a used car dealership in the suburbs and saw the love of my life before me. [Note: My husband was at home.] There in all its glory was an ivory 1965 Mercedes Benz 230SL Roadster, epitomizing all that is good in automotive design. I drove home, grabbed J and begged that he come see this amazing car at once. The salesman told us it came from the original owners in San Francisco and was in all original condition. The seats were impeccable, the paint job pristine and even the clock worked. It proudly boasted both a hard and soft top and had the most amazing hubcaps I’ve ever laid eyes on. Then the man dropped the bomb: she was a standard. I’ve never learned how to drive a standard, much less one without power steering or power brakes. But just like real-life love, her tiny flaw didn’t matter to me. I saw so far beyond it; being able to actually drive her was simply a bump in the road, shall we say.

We came home with the beauty the following day and I’ve never regretted my decision! I’ve never owned a brand new car or picked out any car I’d driven, so this was such a special treat for me. And oddly enough, everyone who knows me and has met my car comments on how alike we are. I am flattered…and yes, I am all original too.


After a few fights with J in the parking lot of Luby’s [trying to learn something new from your spouse is almost as hard as learning how to drive a ’65 standard], I finally had the nerve to take the car on [gasp] the Interstate. Although she doesn’t have AC [clearly not a necessity in California…or Germany!], we spend a lot of time together on the weekends and early morning brunch runs. Ever-giving, not only does she makes me feel good, but she has educated me in a topic I never thought I’d know, or care, anything about. I’d be happy to talk with anyone about her unique unit frame and body chassis, fuel-injected engine, the purpose of her shoulder strap seatbelt, and safety-conscious crumple zones [of which I am like a proud momma to say was FIRST debuted as feature in my lovely little gal!].

I feel compelled to tell the story of "Me & My Girl" because I’ve recently read a lot of posts discussing the desire to own a vintage car. Unfortunately they are all too often met with resistance and negativity, encouraging a litany of "Don't do it!"s and "You must be crazy!"s. While I can’t speak for other brands, I can say my purchase has been nothing but pure joy, albeit I bought a well maintained and cared for car from the getgo. The original owner and his family took great pride in this car – they recorded every tune-up and each gas stop in a book that has been graciously bestowed upon me. Mercedes-Benz now has a Classic dealership in Irvine, CA solely dedicated to restoring and purchasing their vintage models. So finding parts is a cinch! Not to mention, my 230SL cost half of what I spent on my Jeep. See, it’s economical too; I told you I was thrifty!

While I know this is an expensive “toy,” how many people can actually say they own a car that has appreciated in value! Our car is already worth over $12,000 more than what we paid for it. And as if that’s not reason enough to justify my beauty, I love how I feel when I drive it; not ostentatiously, but nostalgically. I feel as though I am a part of something very special – a deep-rooted heritage in a brand that still has class, and a company that exudes quality and craftsmanship...but never underestimates a damn good looking car!

So in that spirit of nostalgia [that I can only expect will elicit a hearty laugh from my husband], here are my next wish list items. In no particular order; I don’t discriminate.

1. Black 1965 Lincoln Continental with suicide doors, à la Entourage.


2. Tobacco Brown 1961 Mercedes-Benz 300 SE Sedan. One day I will have children and I’ll need a place for them to sit, right? So really this is strictly out of necessity…


3. Red 1981 Porsche 911 SC. I am stalking J’s old boss for this car. It barely has 11,000 miles and it calls out to me each time we see it. I keep telling it to be patient. One day Little Porsche, one day.


4. 1949 Plymouth Woody Wagon Deluxe. Since we don’t live near a beach for me to strap my surfboard on top, I will fulfill another dream and strap my Christmas tree on the roof and ride home, windows down, tree flappin’, and singing carols along the way.


5. Red 1960 Mercedes-Benz 300SL Roadster. OK, I admit, I really just want the junk in it’s trunk.



P.S. Standards Encouraged.
[photographs of me & J in our car taken by the talented Julie Soefer.]