In the beginning...

…somebody created light. But I digress. Being a sort of gearhead I’m always browsing random classifieds and craigslist ads in search of interesting prospects and spectacular deals. A buddy of mine and I even have an ongoing car relationship where we send each other craigslist links with comments like “Oooo” or “I’d buy that if I was rich.” or “When are we staring our own West Coast Customs shop?” on a regular basis. Snap to December 3, 2009.

I was taking a break from reviewing a particularly monotonous 74 page commercial lease and stumbled upon a 1962 (63?) Triumph Spitfire lazily draping its fenders across a craigslist ad with an economically spirited price of $700. For a Spitfire. That runs. This is interesting.

I figured there must be excessive frame rot, pleas from Nigerian governments to split $20.5 Million dollars, or a Beta email test from Bill Gates attached. None of the above. This IS interesting.
Turns out this fellow was selling a legitimate 1962 (again I say 63?…because it’s registered as a ‘63 although the prefix and serial number say ‘62) convertible Spitfire. I called the number on the ad and arranged to go look at the thing. It didn’t look particularly glamorours…but for $700 you can’t really raise a big stink. Enter Amanda. (my fiance’)

For some time I’ve fancied (I’m using ‘fancied’ because it sound British and this is a Triumph after all) Amanda as a driver of some cute little convertible – both from my conversations with her about her ultimate Napa cruiser and from overexposure to Hugh Grant movies. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to make these stars align. I talked to Amanda. We agreed to check it out. The same evening. ($700 cars are hard to come by…and that’s if you’re looking for a Ford Crown Victoria…forget cool British cars)
So we drove up to San Rafael and I proceeded to check it out. It was a Triumph…it was a Spitfire. The seller said he rebuilt the carbs…it was apparent he didn’t. The interior was rough. The exterior was rough. There were leaks, creaks, and etc. But overall the car was straight, the frame rails were straight…there wasn’t excessive rust behind the wheel arches or on the floorpans. There was tape and random stickers throughout…apparently this was one of the prior owner’s preferred methods of repair. And lo and behold the damn thing started up and ran…and we drove it around the block a few times in freezing weather with the windshield fogging up and me hanging my head out the window like a Golden Retriever. It was pretty fun, even in it’s worst condition. I could only imagine how good it could be after some good, solid work on it.
Heck with it. Amanda gave me the “Let’s do it” look and I haggled $100 off the price. The car was delivered two days later on the 5th, and we agreed to split the cost of the expired registration and the deal would be done. And that’s how we came to own a 1962 Triumph Spitfire. Ah, how the world turns.
- Cam