Alright, let me tell you about my little adventure with a dream, the Mercedes SL from 1960. Not the crazy Gullwing, but the roadster. Always had a soft spot for that shape, the style. Saw one parked on a street in Europe years ago, shiny silver, just perfect. That image kind of burned into my brain. I thought, man, owning one of those would be something special.
So, maybe five or six years back, I finally felt like I had enough breathing room, financially speaking, to maybe, just maybe, make it happen. Started digging around online, checking auctions, classifieds, you name it. Let me tell you, reality hits hard. Pristine examples? We’re talking serious money. Like, money I didn’t really have just sitting around for a weekend toy. It was a bit of a shock, honestly. I knew they were classics, but the prices were just way up there.
Okay, plan B. Find one that needs work. A project car. How tough could it really be, right? Famous last words. Found one eventually, couple states over. Photos looked okay-ish, description mentioned “needs restoration”. Drove out there full of hope. “Needs restoration” was an understatement. It was tired. Really tired. Paint was shot, some rust creeping in, interior looked like a family of raccoons had lived in it. But the engine turned over, and the guy gave me a story about how it was mostly complete.
Getting Down to It
Against my better judgment, probably blinded by the shiny silver one I saw years ago, I bought it. Got it towed back home, parked it in the garage. Felt pretty good for about a day. Then I started actually looking closer. Started making lists of what needed doing. The list got real long, real fast.
- Bodywork was worse than I thought. Lots of hidden rust.
- Chrome trim? Some bits missing, others pitted beyond saving. Finding replacements was a nightmare.
- Engine turned over, yeah, but it ran rough as heck. Needed a full rebuild, basically.
- Wiring looked like spaghetti thrown at the car.
Every step was a battle. Finding parts was one thing. Finding parts that weren’t priced like they were solid gold was another. Then finding someone who actually knew these cars, who wasn’t booked up for months or charging the earth? Even harder. I tried doing some stuff myself. Bought tools, watched videos. Spent weekends covered in grease, getting nowhere fast. More frustration than fun, if I’m being honest.
This went on for the better part of two years. The car sat there, mostly apart. My garage looked like a disaster zone. It wasn’t bringing me joy, it was just this big, expensive, metal headache. Every time I walked past it, I just felt this weight. It wasn’t the dream anymore, it was just… work. Hard, expensive work with no end in sight.
So, I made a tough call. Put it up for sale. Didn’t get back what I put into it, not even close. But the feeling of seeing it loaded onto someone else’s trailer? Pure relief. Seriously. Like I could finally breathe again.
Learned a lot, though. Mostly about myself. About chasing dreams. Sometimes the idea is better than the reality. And sometimes, it’s okay to just admire something beautiful from a distance. Don’t get me wrong, I still think the 1960 SL is a gorgeous car. But now, I’m happy just seeing pictures or spotting one at a car show. My garage is clean now, and my weekends are mine again. Way better trade-off for me.
