Flying W Things

Before I start let me say one thing - my wife is an amazing person. She has tolerated and encouraged all the nonsense that I have put her through in the last few weeks regarding this car, and continues to be supportive of me in my pursuit of British motoring excellence. Thanks, Katy.

Now then. Since I've got you I'll start at the beginning. When I was 15 I bought my first car - a 1972 Triumph Spitfire - from my neighbor Mr. French. In short, I was very hard on that car. I'm sure it was not easy for Mr. French to see his first convertible systematically destroyed by a teenager who expected that his new ride was as immortal as he clearly was. When we moved to California the car stayed behind - sold to a girl I worked with who was in love with the lines of the car and was not put off by the sheet of notebook paper filled front and back with things that were wrong with it. In the sale I got every penny that I had put into the car back out.

Upon arrival in California, however, I feared I had made an epic mistake. Here was a climate for convertibles. And likely a more reliable supply of parts and knowledge about these little British cars. I was filled with regret.

I swore I would get another one "someday."

The years started stacking up, though, and still no Triumph. A couple years ago I decided that I was never going to fall into a pile of money that had "spend me on a convertible" written on it and started putting a little money into a convertible fund every week (side endorsement: ING Direct. Weekly automatic deposit. Works great.)

Earlier this year I felt like I had enough cash set aside that I could at least start gauging the market a bit. I started trolling eBay and a couple classic car websites for cars. I was surprised to see very few on the market in spring but lately things had started to pick up. I suppose that the people who are filled with hope in April have run aground on the shoals of reality in August and just want the garage space back. A few weeks ago I finally saw a Spitfire of the proper vintage (pre-1974) in the LA area on eBay and made arrangements to go and take a look. It definitely needed some work but I was hoping that I could get it for a reasonable price if the auction didn't get to his reserve price.

Unfortunately by the time I got over to have a look he had already gotten an offer that I was unwilling to match. I went home a little depressed. That night I was checking craigslist for cars when on a whim I decided to check some of the other California cities for listings. I was surprised to see a 1969 Spitfire on the Sacramento site. After sleeping on it I dropped the owner a quick email with some questions.

The owner was very gracious on the phone but had already gotten a deposit by the time I talked to him on Monday night. It sounded like the car had little to no rust, was mechanically sound, but needed body work and paint. I asked him to let me know if things didn't work out and tried not to get my hopes up, but on Wednesday I got an email telling me that the deal had indeed fallen through. I asked a few more questions and offered to give him a deposit.

Dark times were ahead, however. The owner didn't want to take a deposit as he was still getting local interest in the car. I could certainly understand his perspective but I was once again getting a little depressed.

It was time for a little groveling.

I sent an email asking "what can I do to convince you to give me the opportunity to buy this car" and offered to get up to Sacramento this weekend. My shameless cry for pity worked. He asked me for a small deposit and gave me until Saturday to come have a look at it.

I paypal'd him the cash immediately and started planning how I would get such a car home from Sacramento - a mere 400 or so miles away.

Saturday morning found me en route to Sacramento with my brother-in-law Adam to check out the car. In short, it was as described and the deal was done. After loading several boxes of spare parts into the car we hooked the car up to a tow dolly and headed back for Los Angeles. Fifteen hours after leaving we pulled up my street, new car in tow, only slightly worse for the tow down.

(If you happen across a right-side sun visor on I-5 in the Sacramento/Stockton area, would you mind dropping me a line?)

And so now I am once again - 22 years to the month after selling my first one - the proud owner of a Triumph Spitfire. Specifically, I am the third owner of this particular 1969 Spitfire Mark III. The Mark III is the third generation Spitfire and the last of the so-called "round-tail" Spitfires. We spent much of the drive home debating names for her but I haven't quite settled on one yet.

Whats-her-name is now relaxing in the garage and giving it that fondly-remembered smell of oil, rubber, and gasoline. Welcome to the family, whatsyourname.

(Mr. French - I'm going to do a better job of taking care of this one. That's a promise.)

For those of you who got tired of reading that and just scrolled down for the pictures, here you go:

Here she is on the tow dolly getting ready to say goodbye to Sacramento. Katy's Odyssey did an awesome job hauling her home.

Mechanically she's in great shape. The interior looks fantastic, and all the gauges work - a major surprise for an old British car. The paint and body? Well, how good do you think your car will look when it's 37 years old?

When we got home last night Katy had a bottle of champagne waiting to toast our new arrival. Cheers!

And now the madness begins in earnest.