The worst car buying story

In the mid '80s, I was engaged to be married. I was also on the lookout for a street-legal sportscar to drive in amateur motorsports competitions called autocrosses, which involve speeding around temporary road courses marked by orange cones.

One day I discovered a red, 1962 Lotus Super 7 Series 2 convertible. It sort of looked like an MG from the early 50's, and was displayed on checkered flag tiles in a used car dealer's showroom. It was British, with out-of-state plates and no available history. Nevertheless, excited at the prospect of owning something really special, I bought it.

Imagine driving a tiny, noisy, stiffly-sprung convertible sportscar with one of your elbows barely above the hot, exposed exhaust pipe – which ran down the side of the car, and the passing freeway just inches below. The tires, only partially covered by fenders, kicked up road debris. It had no bumpers or heater. I installed a hand-operated wiper, in case of rain. Smiling motorists gave me thumbs-up.

I planned to enter it in monthly autocrosses but it broke down before every single event. Lotus cars were frail to begin with, but mine was way worse. I discovered that its original engine had been replaced with a different British engine, which did not fit properly. That caused ongoing problems. Every time my mechanic finished a repair – which often involved fabricating custom parts, something else broke. Eventually I sold it at a big loss.

Like the familiar line about boats, my happiest days with that car were the day that I bought it and the day that I sold it. My (now ex-) wife told me that car nearly ended our marriage before it even began.

The moral of this story: never buy a used car without getting it checked out thoroughly first.