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I’m completely self-taught. I never had anyone showing me how to do this stuff, and because of that, I never had the old Mercedes guys telling me what not to do.
My first 190 was a 2.6. Then it became a 3.0, then a 3.6. That car eventually rusted out, so I bought a ’95 wagon, pulled the 3.2 out, and put the 3.6 in. I drove that for about 120,000 to 150,000 miles. Eventually, someone wanted to buy that engine from me, and I found an E55 in the junkyard. Everyone said it couldn’t be done.
About three weeks before I moved to Seattle, I pulled the 3.6 out to sell it and had to get the 5.4 in so I could make the drive. Around the same time, the 1970 280 SE I got for my wedding was burning a quart of oil every 50 miles. About three weeks before the wedding, I realized that wasn’t going to work, so I ripped the stock engine out and put in a junkyard 4.3. That’s really where everything took off.
That 280 SE is the number one car. I finished it around the time I closed my shop in Michigan to move to Atlanta. Before I left, I built one more. Those two cars started circulating online, and people found out about them — and about me.
While I was in Atlanta working for another shop, I kept getting phone calls asking if I could build cars. I kept saying no, I wasn’t doing that at the time. Eventually that situation fell apart, I moved to Nashville, and people were already waiting for me to build cars when I arrived.
This car is a 1964 Mercedes 230 SL, commonly referred to as the “Pagoda” because of the shape of the hardtop. It’s a nickname from the ’60s that just stuck. This one was someone’s failed restoration that we picked up on Bring a Trailer. Originally, we planned to do a period-correct hot-rod V8 swap with a Mercedes 3.2-liter. At the last minute, we decided to put a modern engine in instead.
It has a 5.1-liter from an S55 AMG. The reliability of these engines is incredible. This was really the golden era of Mercedes engine and driveline engineering. You’re going from 135 horsepower to about 400 horsepower with the naturally aspirated version, and they just don’t have issues. It lets you take a 50- or 60-year-old Mercedes and drive it like a normal car.
That’s why I do this. I want to see these cars driven. A lot of them end up in collections and never see the light of day again. That’s fine — it’s their choice — but I’m still going to drive mine.
I always dreamed of owning an Alfa. Most people don’t even know the Berlina exists. You’d say “Alfa,” and they’d say, “What’s that?” I couldn’t afford an Alfa at first, so I figured I’d get another B-sedan, like the cars that raced in the ’70s. I looked at Datsuns, but those were getting expensive too, so I bought a Datsun 1200. It was a retired ice-racing car from Saginaw Bay. I did a bunch of work to it and got it running with a Datsun pickup motor and a Z-car transmission. Then I had to move, had too many cars, and sold it before I ever drove it on the road.
I still wanted an Alfa. When I was in Seattle, I worked at an Alfa race shop as a fabricator and spent a lot of time around them. That’s where I really caught the sickness.
When I moved back to Michigan, I started doing support work for a guy in West Michigan who had several retired Trans-Am Alfas that he ran in vintage races. One day, driving east of Grand Rapids to buy tires, I saw this Berlina sitting next to a barn. I stopped a few times but never caught the owner. I left my card with his wife, but he never called.
Later, while doing support at a vintage race at Grattan, I kept thinking about that car. I went back again and finally caught the guy mowing his lawn. I asked about the car, and he told me it was his father-in-law’s and that it wasn’t for sale. We kept talking, and it turned out he had a Mercedes 190E 2.3-16 Cosworth, just like mine, but it was burning a ton of oil.
I told him I was probably the most qualified person in Michigan to rebuild that engine. He asked what it would cost, and I said an Alfa Berlina. He agreed. We made the deal, and he had the Alfa towed to my shop later that week. I picked up the title from him at his work — and actually drove the Alfa there to get it.
I’ve never heard from him since. I’ve tried calling, texting, emailing — nothing. Someday he might show up and say I owe him an engine rebuild, and I’ll happily do it. Until then, it was free.
I acquired the Alfa three weeks before the 2021 Round Headlamp Rally. It had been sitting for 23 years, so I figured we’d see if we could make it happen. All the brake calipers were seized. Every brake line burst one at a time as I tried to bleed the system, so I replaced every line. The clutch was completely shot.
Someone had already removed the SPICA injection and installed Weber DCOEs, but they were set up for an early Giulia 1300. I re-jetted and re-choked them for a 1750, but it didn’t run right. I went back and forth between setups until I finally got it running properly.
I did about 900 of the 1,000 rally miles before the tie rods started coming apart. It was terrifying, so I dropped it off and finished the rally in a different car.
A couple of years later, after selling my Mustang, I had the chance to buy a GTV 2000 — my dream car. It was in similar condition to the Berlina. I fixed it up and daily-drove it for a year. Over that time, I realized that as much as I loved the GTV, the Berlina was the better car.
The Berlina is more practical, has more usable space, and the longer wheelbase makes it feel more stable. The biggest factor is the engine — the 1750 is just better than the two-liter. If it were a 1750 Berlina versus a 1750 GTV, it would come down to whether you want something more nimble or more comfortable on the highway.
The Berlina was a bit of a fill-the-gap model while Alfa was working on the next generation. The Giulia was starting to feel dated, so the Berlina ended up being a bit awkward looking — round front arches, trapezoidal rear arches — but it’s fantastic to drive.
I can drive it at 11/10ths and barely break any laws. That’s the joy of slow cars.
I definitely get attached to cars. I’ll probably be buried in my Cosworth because they won’t be able to get me out of it. If I had to sell everything except two cars, it would be this and the Cosworth.
There’s just something about a Michigan summer. I always wanted to be part of a cool car community, doing cool car things with like-minded people. That part has been really refreshing.
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