Can you run a classic car on a shoestring – and even make a profit?

The headlining was bagging off the removable hard-top, one walnut trim insert was cracked, the driver’s seat bolster looked like it had been attacked, the engine’s auxiliary belt needed replacing, the paint lacquer had worn through in a couple of places and the hydraulic roof mechanism definitely needed attention if the grudging way it heaved into place was anything to go by.

All of this suggested in no uncertain terms that I shouldn’t buy it. On top of that, the 1992 Mercedes 300 SL 24V had a very sporadic service history. It looked to have been pampered by its first owner and mostly abused by the second, who then left it in a garage to the mercies of time and neglect. This was a risky purchase, and I knew it.   

But it drove well, and it was red with a cream interior – who doesn’t love that combination? – with only 60,000 miles on the clock and an achievable price tag.

Plus, I’d researched it exhaustively via the brilliant geek-fest that is the Mercedes-Benz Owners’ Club, and all of the bits that worried me – including dash lights that randomly lit up – seemed common faults with easy fixes. 

I wanted it with the sort of obsessiveness that has you checking the advertisement on an hourly basis to check that it’s still for sale, while you wrestle with the aeons old “I don’t need and can’t afford a classic car” versus “I really want it and I’m sure it’ll be an investment, really” debate.

I had nodded sagely at too many reasonably-priced Porsche 911s, Mercedes 190 Cosworths, BMW M3s, even Ferraris (remember when you could get a 355 for about £50,000?) over the years, and said “I should buy that, it’ll be worth a fortune in a while,” – only to ignore my own advice and then want to eat my credit card when, sure enough, I see them selling for six-figure sums a few years later. 

This was my moment, and the slightly shabby R129 Mercedes SL was my car. I lasted 24 hours after driving it before I handed over a modest £4,400. I don’t have a garage, nor a lot of money to run and restore it. This was going to be an exercise in whether you really can own a 25-year-old classic car on a shoestring budget. 

One year on, and how’s that going? Quite well, actually. The Merc passed its MoT test at the first attempt a few weeks ago, and the only big wobble it had is when some water got into the alarm unit and caused it to flash its hazard lights endlessly. A trip to the auto-electrician, and £400 later saw that as being the biggest expense so far.

Otherwise, it’s never let me down and it is used fairly regularly. The only mechanical stuff I’ve done is to fit a new auxiliary belt, which cost £50 from Mercedes and £40 for my local mechanic to fit it.  

Have I sorted the soft-top roof? Nope. But I like the car with its hard-top on and I don’t have the money right now, so currently my Merc roadster should be regarded as a coupé.

Have I done anything to the slightly saggy interior? Nope. And the headlining may well fall off if I don’t do something soon. 

This was always going to be the way with this project – doing little bits here and there when the bank balance allowed, which is why I was ruthless in my one rule that whatever I bought should be mechanically sound but could be a bit shabby cosmetically. The SL fit the bill perfectly.

In the meantime, I will pay for storage over the winter, and come warmer months I’d rather have it on the driveway under a cover so that I use it regularly. After all, I bought the car to enjoy it as well as in the hope that it might be worth something in the future.

Anyway, without wishing to bore you with more numbers, all costs factored in - including insurance for 12 months, storage for six, two new tyres, an MoT, new auxiliary belt and the aforementioned electrical whoopsy, the Merc has cost just under £1,600 to run thus far.  I’d say that’s a win for a 25-year-old car.

Granted, that’s not including fuel costs at some 20mpg on a good day, but I’d really rather not think about that. 

Has it gone up in value? Yes, but probably not as much by as I’ve spent on it; it’s hard to tell given that values for R129 SLs seem to be wildly erratic. And I’m OK with that. 

It’s still cheap to buy and run by classic car standards, and it’s still a car that I love owning and driving, which is confidently set to go up in value and yet also seems amenable to my ad-hoc, eBay-at-best budget. 

Making money on it in the long run will likely rest on nothing major going wrong with the Merc, and while this era of SL is one of the more reliable classics that you can buy on a small budget it’s still an old car that might one day lunch its gearbox or require an entirely new wiring loom.

My crystal ball is broken and out of warranty. I’ve found that you quickly get used to the gentle paranoia of living with an old car, where you kind of expect things to fall off or stop working occasionally, and hope that it’s nothing significant. 

The even bigger risk is that I’m going to refuse to part with it, thereby making it a whimsical money pit rather than a savvy financial move. 

I just adore the way that the SL instantly makes me drive like I have all the time in the world, even when I don’t. It’s a vehicular canal barge – you get in, and normal time and desire for progress is replaced with a sort of fuzzy, care-free desire to simply enjoy the scenery. I like to think of it as a slow, uncomplicated joy in a fast and complicated world. 

Whatever it is, owning the SL is a privilege and an adventure. Maybe it will make me money, maybe it will cost me money, maybe I’ll just stop counting pounds and start counting memories.

Classic car ownership on a shoestring is certainly proving rosy so far… Here’s hoping it stays that way.

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