Every car enthusiast can vividly recount defining moments throughout their formative years when they were stopped in their tracks by being in the mere presence of automotive greatness. Similar to how audiophiles describe first hearing The Beatles, these moments have been vividly etched into our minds for eternity.
For me, one of those defining moments was laying eyes on a brand new 1987 Signal Red Mercedes-Benz 560 SL. Our next-door neighbour’s boss had just purchased the car and he was applying a coat of wax before delivering it to him.
I must have driven my cranky old neighbour mad with my incessant line of questioning. “How much horsepower?” How much did it cost?” “What was it like to drive?” “Can I sit in it?” “Can you take me for a ride?” I was too young for a paper route let alone a driver’s license, and had little to no sense of the finances required to obtain such a magnificent piece of machinery, but I was immediately enamoured and the encounter never left my mind.
I would round the corner on my walk home from school every day hoping to see the gorgeous piece of automotive art sitting in the driveway, but it never returned. It would take 37 years for the stars to align for me to finally drive one.
New and Old Collide
The Los Angeles International Auto Show is typically aligned with Daylight Savings Time. As the days grow shorter, the temperature drops and the trees turn bare, the promise of enjoying the sunny state of California becomes even more inviting. I extended my stay after the show. Los Angeles traffic is world-renowned. Infamous for its urban sprawl and lack of public transportation infrastructure, I would need to rent a vehicle to get around.
Rather than arranging a boring rental car from the typical service providers, I tried the Turo app. Similar to the Airbnb business model, owners list their personal vehicles for rent. Users select a location and can choose from a wide array of vehicles for short and longer-term rental. Scrolling through the app specifically looking for an older convertible, I saw several options for classic SLs. I scoured each profile to find the most suitable example and made the reservation, hoping for the best.
Any interest in the brand new models being unveiled at press conferences on the show floor of the auto show paled in comparison to my excitement for the end of the week when I would be driving a car that was built when Miami Vice was still on the air.
My Dream Comes True … Sort Of
The day finally arrived. Similar to a first encounter with someone you met online through a dating app, things are not always what you expect. Pictures of the car in the profile were quite obviously dated, as it had seen far better days. Heavily dented in multiple areas and covered in a thick layer of dust in an underground parking garage, the car was most certainly not as advertised. I felt committed, though, and couldn’t bear the thought of not enjoying the beautiful sunny day by driving a classic convertible.
I couldn’t help but laugh as the car continued to reveal itself as a complete and utter basket case while I drove. The alignment was so poor that onramps could be taken with the steering wheel at dead centre. Multiple interior panels fell off when the car shuddered over potholes.
Nevertheless, any frustration I had about the experience blew away into the breeze as I drove through Beverly Hills. Exploring an area where hypercars like Ferraris, McLarens, and Lamborghinis are as commonplace as a Honda Civic in most neighbourhoods, the timeless, elegant lines of the Benz felt right at home despite its condition.
Opting for the 560 SL (rather than the lesser 380 or 450) meant getting a 5.5L V8 under the hood mated to a four-speed automatic transmission. As was common at the time, performance was dismal at best. While it isn’t uncommon for a modern four-cylinder powerplant to be making 300 hp, the 560SL’s 227 hp and 287 lb-ft of torque are downright quaint, especially for its 1,715-kg (3,781-lb) curb weight.
At the time of production, it was stated that the naturally aspirated, fuel-injected V8 could propel the cabriolet from zero to 100 km/h in 7.1 seconds. All these years and likely a few missed oil changes later, I’m guessing that number is a touch higher. Certainly not expecting a canyon-carving sportscar, I was surprised at how much of a sedate boulevard cruiser the car was. The V8, while not as spirited as I would have expected or preferred, did sound nice.
California’s Best
I made my way to the Petersen Automotive Museum, which I had been hoping to visit for years.
Truly a world-class destination that no automotive enthusiast should miss, even the parking lot offered better car spotting than I have seen at some car shows. In addition to permanent displays, they have rotating exhibits that are ever-changing, providing worthwhile motivation to return again and again. Make sure you take the time to visit The Vault. It costs extra but is worth every penny. Astoundingly rare classics, one-of-a-kind prototypes, and vehicles immediately recognizable from TV and film (not replicas, the actual cars) fill the underground garage, along with F1 cars of peerless pedigree. I would dedicate an entire day to the museum, but true car enthusiasts will still be overwhelmed with all there is to see and read.
The SL story starts back in 1951 when Mercedes decided to get back into racing. Thus, the 1952 300 SL, for “Super Light,” was born. There are few vehicles that have been constructed on this planet as iconic and aspirational as that original model. Nine generations have followed, with varying levels of success.
The generation I was driving, known as the R107, started in 1971 and ran until 1989, producing the highest number of units at 231,287. While it was obvious that this particular example had been sorely neglected, the original build quality was still evident. In fact, it still ran well and was very enjoyable to drive despite decades of being mistreated. It didn’t sour my experience, and I was able to experience the car’s many redeeming qualities. Opening and closing the soft top is an involved process that requires numerous steps and a dedicated tool. The car is refreshingly free of safety nannies, screens, and haptic response tabs. It has buttons, knobs, and switches. Piloting the vehicle requires the driver’s attention. What a novel concept!
A Simpler Time
With the top down and the 1980s-era stereo turned up, I was taken back to a simpler, less hectic and hurried time. I felt like Warren Beatty as I casually cruised into the Hollywood Hills. I was eager to explore Laurel Canyon, an area where members of bands such as The Beach Boys, The Mamas and the Papas, Buffalo Springfield, and The Byrds, shared songs (among other things) during the mid-1960s, giving birth to an entirely new genre of music that fused folk with Rock ‘n Roll. It has been immortalized in a documentary called Echo in the Canyon that is hosted by The Wallflowers frontman (and son of Bob Dylan), Jakob Dylan. Not only an inspiring ecosystem for music, the mountainous area features fascinating architecture, as no two homes are alike. It made me consider how distinctive car designs used to be. You could immediately recognize them and tell them apart, unlike today, where most of the vehicles on the market look the same.
From there, I made my way west to the Pacific Coast Highway (Highway 1). Passing through Malibu, I stopped at Neptune’s Net, which is a must for any film buff. Fans of The Fast and the Furious franchise will recognize the patio where Brian and Dom shared deep-fried seafood after drag racing a Ferrari in the not-so-subtle 10-second Supra.
The PCH has been featured in countless films and television shows and has inspired many songs and pop culture references. It is easy to understand why people flock to one of the country’s most famous highways. It almost defies explanation.
Enjoying the smell of the fresh breeze and the sun on my face as it slowly sank into the vast Pacific Ocean, I couldn’t imagine a better way to experience such a moment than behind the wheel of a classic convertible I’ve lusted after for nearly four decades. Nothing — not even the terrible L.A. traffic or the Benz’s neglected condition — could have wiped the smile from my face.
