The Alfa Romeo

Somebody asked me not too long ago why I didn’t have a more exotic or upscale car.  I thought about it and then said that, for the most part;  I had already had all I wanted to have.  And, as with old girl friends, exciting places visited, etc. - I would rather have my memories intact, no matter how rosy-tinted they may be - so I don’t really want the old sources of them back again to spoil it for me.  I doubt they would have the same magic now as they did then. 

A kind-of example is that when I was a kid I read about and wanted a Studebaker Avanti.  When I was about 35 I bought a 1963 R-1.  Rebuilt the engine  (it was stuck - not worn), new tires, new brakes, new exhaust, etc.  It was very cool to look at and to talk to people about and to say that I had.  But driving it was just exactly like driving a 1963 Impala;  mushy suspension, one finger power steering, automatic transmission - nothing exotic or high performance about it.

My new Corolla is very comfortable, roomy, quiet, very fast, handles well, will pull strong to well over 100 mph, and it does it all while getting 35 mpg.  It make me laugh to think of what it would have like having it back when I was in high school.  In the quarter mile those big heavy America cars would likely beat it - but in a mile?  I’d be Gone. <g>

At about the same time as the Avanti I also had a 1948 Plymouth coupe and a 1962 Alfa Romeo 2000 roadster  Total production on the model was about 600 or so.  Someone before me had done a very nice cosmetic and engine restoration on it but the chassis got worse and worse with rust - until they felt the car was junk - for parts only.  2 liter four cylinder, DOHC, two side draft Solex carbs, all rebuilt.  Nicely lacquered red body work, nice chrome, decent convertible top.  Although it appeared to be in decent shape;  with a nice leather interior, etc. - it was the standard Italian unit-body rust-bucket - so much so that if you sat in it you couldn’t close the door because the chassis had flexed down so much. <g>  I think I gave a thousand or fifteen hundred for it.  Then it was towed home, turned upside down, jacked until the bottom of the car looked straight and square, and then power wire brushed pretty clean.  After that the entire underside ‘pan’ of the car was coated in Gluvit, which is a tough-as-nails marine epoxy, and then 6 ounce canvas was bedded into the Gluvit, rolled in, soaked through, and then more Gluvit painted over the canvas.  This all went up into the wheel wells too.  I forget how much now - but about 4-5-6 layers in all.  A week later the chassis was dead-solid-rigid.  Any seams and sticking-out edges were ground off smooth and then the entire bottom of the car was coated with spray-on black undercoater.  It really looked like brand new. 

Then the car was turned up right again, I rubbed out the 15 coats of lacquer it came with, and rebuffed out the chrome, and repainted the wire wheels.  It looked pretty sharp.  As a mental image for you;  the 2000 Alfa Romeo looked pretty much the same as about a 1953-era Ferrari.  There were pretty much no parts available for it. I had to custom make the exhaust system and later I had to make a brake caliper for the front and a brake cylinder for the rear.  I used to take it out just before sunset in the summer and carve up the back roads for a hour or two - I used to run the devil out of the little thing. <g>  But it was hot inside for my feet, you could always smell oil and exhaust fumes, it was impossible with the top up, and the overall allure wore off in a few years.  After that it was mostly just sitting in the carport.

One day a guy called me: 

I understand you have an 1962 Alfa Romeo.

Yes I do - who are you?

(I forget now how he had heard about it)  I’m so-and-so and I am curious if you had any interest in selling it?

No really;  I never really thought about it, what do you want it for?

Well;  I’ve always wanted one and they’re pretty rare.

Yeah;  I kind of like it - you never see any other one on the road, that’s for sure.

So would you consider selling it?

I’d consider it I guess - sure.

What kind of price did you have in mind?  What would you consider selling it for?

I don’t have any price in mind - just two minutes ago I wasn’t even Considering. <g>  I really have no idea.  But tell me this:  you’ve been looking for one yourself you said - what kind of prices have you seen them sell for?

I really don’t know;  how much did You pay for it?

That was a long time ago - I can’t remember now.  And I try not to think about how much I’ve spent on it since then. <g>  Rebuilt engine, new paint, new leather, custom exhaust, and I had to custom Make the brake parts for it.

Well;  would you take ten thousand for it?

(I am dumbfounded at that number- although silently <g>)  I might I guess.  Do you want to come look at the car?

Well;  I can’t come by but I can have somebody look at it - when is convenient?

Any time is OK with me.

How about tomorrow morning at ten o’clock?

Sure.

So I go out to the dusty neglected Alfa and pull all the dead leaves out of it and wash the thick dust off with a garden hose and realize how shabby looking the car really is at that point.  I start it with jumper cables, a mouse nest blows out the exhaust pipe, and I connect a charger to the probably-bad battery.  I tinker for a while and then think:  oh forget about this;  it is what it is - just some old rat that I have flogged around for a while.

The next day is Saturday and go up early to start and warm up the Alfa - so it would make a good impression. <g>  At about 9:30A a car shows up;  a big BMW, parks out on the street, and a guy gets out to stand next to his car - he is alternately looking intently down the street and at his watch.  So I go outside and he gestures towards the Alfa, about forty-fifty feet away under the carport, and says: 

That’s the car I guess?

Yep;  the key’s in it - want to take it out and see what you think?

No.  (he’s not really looking at me - still staring down the street)

Want me to start it up for you?

No.  Oh;  (he reaches into the car and gets an envelope off the seat)  here’s the check.

What check?

For the car.  Cashiers check for ten thousand - that’s what we agree to.

I don't remember agreeing - and don’t you want to look at the car first?

No.

What are you standing out here for?

I’m waiting for the truck.

What truck?

The truck to tow away the car.

You can just drive it.

No thanks.

OK;  the title’s in the glove box.  Want to see it?

No;  I’m sure it’s fine.

I signed it already.

OK

So you are just going to tow the car away?  Without even looking at it?

I can see it from here.

(I start laughing)  So what if the car doesn’t run?  Say there’s no engine in it?  Then what?

You said the car was fine - that’s good enough for me.

Maybe I lied about the whole thing?

You seem like an honest guy - I’m sure it’s all fine.

Aren't you interested in the condition of the car?

Not really - it’s going straight to the restoration shop anyway - it really doesn’t matter what the condition is now - it’s going to be restored to like-new condition anyway - top to bottom.

It doesn’t need that - it’s fine now.  You can drive it just the way it is.  What are you going to do with the car anyway?

It’s going to a museum.

Really?

Yes;  that’s it.  That’s why we’re buying it.

Just about then the immaculate shiny flatbed showed up, the guy spoke briefly to the driver, and then without another word to me, got in his car and drove away.  The driver pretty much wouldn’t talk to me and as soon as the car was secured up on the platform he took off with it.

It was the oddest selling of a car that ever happened to me. <g>

I have often wondered what the restoration shop guys thought when they dug into that mostly-epoxy chassis tear-down. <g>