So if you've read this blog thoroughly (which isn't saying much as this is my 11th post), you must know I refer to all 1984 and older Mercedes-Benz as Babymamas. You will also know that it's all in honor of my very own 1984 300SD Turbo Diesel Babymama :) Those who know me personally know that I am absolutely smitten on that car. I love her like a person and she keeps me safe. Babymama is my first car and I fully intent to keep her forever, even if that means keeping her by means of her "nose" (hood ornament) if, God forbid, anything tragic happen. Anyway, I would like you to get to know her better. Most people don't look twice when they see a 1970s - 1980s Benz. I do. And I always say "babymama!" with the biggest freakin' smile on my face. That's affection. Despite the fact that she's been beat and totalled and has suffered technical hemorrhages galore, I adore her. My Mister has said it quite well, scars give you character. True true true, even for cars. If you came across my post about Concours D'Elegances, I'm sure you get a sense that I love a well kept classic. However, there is something about a car that has seen life, that has trucked through it and said "bring it" to whatever rough terrain it had to go through. Such was the case of my Babymama.
She was picked up from Stuttgart, Germany in 1984. She's a true Euro! Mercedes-Benz offered my parents a 1 way ticket to Stuttgart to pick her up straight from the factory! Included in the program was a complete tour of the Mercedes Benz factory. Once they picked her up, they drove her through the Black Forest. Once it started raining, my dad (USA) turned to my mom (FRANCE) and said quite bluntly: "this is your weather, you drive". They encountered a funny piece of land that sat in the middle of the 3 lane freeway: a little house who's owner refused to sell. Babymama drove them all around France before they dropped her offand handed over her keys at a parking lot at Avenue de la Grande Armee in Paris. From there she made her way onto a boat a travelled across the seas. Two months later a phone called informed my parents that she had made it to San Pedro, CA. Why Diesel?? Emission laws in California made it terribly complicated to get a gasoline car from Europe. That's the reason my mom had to forfeit her sexy little Mercedes Coupe, you know the ones with the pagoda roof you could forget a cup of coffee on, and it would make it across town just fine...
Now she's travelled her way into my hands. I can't say I've always treated her the way I should. I don't mean I call her names or hate on her! She's my first car. I've hit a pole or two, I've driven over those obnoxious parking cement blocks and got her oil pin stuck in the oil pan (that means oil leak!!!) and I've gotten two flat tires. But she gets a "good morning" and a "thank you" and a "good night" every day. I know her faults, her foibles, her troubles, and her triumphs! I go by Randall "Memphis" Raines' philosophy (Gone in 60 Seconds) : you take care of me, I'll take care of you. I believe it. I wash her myself almost every week and try to vacuum her every now and then. I check the oil level frequently as she's known to leak. You may think I'm a lunatic-wierdo by now, but that's OK. If you're really in-tune with your car, you'll get it. There is a reason a car is often referred to as "my baby". A car is usually a person's second greatest purchase in life. You definitely want to show proper care to something that important. I live in Los Angeles, so your vehicle is even more important considering the unimpressive public transit system (not to diss the Big Blue Bus, of course!). However, car care and car love are distinguishable. I don't think the dude over there driving on PCH like a befuddled version of Michael Schumacher in his expensive, new Porsche quadriporte, after having 10 people detail his car, really gives a rat's ass about it. It's an item of luxury. It's a sign of wealth and social status (and who knows, he could live in a shit hole and have invested it all in his ride just for looks). I'm making a gross stereotipization here, but I've encountered that "type" in the past. He cares enough about it on the surface, he keeps it in pristine condition, both physically and mechanically. But when I see the older man in his 1965 BMW 2000 CS, somewhat beat it may be, I know it's love. When I go to Pomona and see greasers drinking beer and talking car at 8am, its definite car love! And that, to me, is worth more than a million dollar car.
Here's a circa 1965 BMW that chills close-by to where I live. It's got charm! Below is a 1960s Chevrolet I saw a little old man get into. He actally looked at me funny as I was snapping shots of his car.
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