Motor Mania
4 DECEMBER 2020
Why collecting cars takes true dedication.
Poppy McKenzie Smith
Poppy McKenzie Smith writes for The Telegraph about old, fast cars and spends most of her time at auctions encouraging other people to buy them. In 2018, she was involved in the sale of a 1961 Aston Martin which became the most expensive British car ever sold in Europe.
Sir Hugh Casson, CH, PRA (1910-1999), ‘A Sheet of Studies with Vintage Car’, pen and black ink, 16 x 21 cm.
A garage door can conceal any number of hidden treasures. Damp boxes of long-forgotten files, gently corroding tools, discarded hockey sticks - sometimes even a car. While for many households across the world, a garage acts largely as a cobwebby storage room, for car collectors it takes on an almost deified state.
Car collectors are an odd breed – as are collectors of almost anything – who will go to baffling lengths to protect their pride and joy. They cocoon them in temperature controlled, plushly-carpeted automobile palaces, refuse to drive them in the rain, and spend hours polishing already gleaming bits of chrome. Indeed, for some self-proclaimed petrolheads, the joy of driving is secondary to the pride of ownership.
The myriad classic and supercar clubs in existence are testament to this fact. Car lovers want everyone to know what particular shape their adored lump of metal takes, and will happily wear caps, jackets and badges adorned with a prancing horse or a snipping scorpion. They want their automotive allegiances to be known when their car is unable to be seen and admired, an act of tribalism rarely found in other collecting circles. Or perhaps they just don’t make bomber jackets emblazoned with Chippendale cabinets yet.
That is not to say that there is no common ground between collectors of antiques and collectors of motor cars. Both groups spend large sums of money on beautiful items which perform a service rather less well than their modern equivalents would. Even the most ardent petrolhead would admit that a 5 hour slog up the M6 would be best tackled in a spacious sedan rather than a furiously twitching Frazer Nash, just as an antique furniture collector surely recognises the benefits of a pillowy DFS sofa over a spindly Regency chaise longue.
Land Rover Series I 86 inch, 1954
Image courtesy of The Motor Shed Ltd.
So why do both camps put themselves to such expensive discomfort? To the unenlightened, a car is simply a common collection of hundreds of parts. Calipers, crank shafts and clutch discs work in harmony to get a driver safely from A to B just as well in a Mokka as they do a Murcielago, so why not save yourself hundreds of thousands of pounds and plump for the former? Similarly, a large dining table from Oak Furniture land can be procured for a few hundred pounds, whereas the Mouseman equivalent can run to five figures.
However, both classic cars and antique furniture are more than the sum of their parts, and their value (both monetary and sentimental) lies more often in their past than merely their appearance. With both, it is the story behind each dent and scrape which renders them all the more desirable for both dealer and collector.
However, where wooden cracks can be varnished over and ceramic chips remedied with superglue, challenges facing those dealing with classic cars can be rather more complex. It is here that a clear divergence between the spheres of collecting emerges. Most collectors of antique items would not expect to have to carry out any major repair work on their acquisition, whereas those filling their garages with old cars and motorcycles are rather less fortunate.
It is easy to see the astronomic prices commanded by some classic vehicles at auction and in dealerships, even by rather pedestrian 70s and 80s models, and assume that there is a quick buck to be made. Richard Stafford, a motor car specialist at the auction house Bonhams, explained the current automotive lie of the land.
1997 Volkswagen, Hatchback Original Beetle.
Image courtesy of Peter Vardy Heritage.
“The 80’s heroes of middle-aged motorists’ childhoods are a case in point. A nippy little Peugeot 205 GTi would initially have been released from the forecourt for about £6,000, whereas one in relatively good condition can reach between £10,000 and £20,000 at auction, with rare, low mileage examples capable of achieving even more. People who had posters of these cars on their bedroom walls suddenly have the money to afford them, even at a price increase of over 100%. At the other end of the scale, hulking Series I Land Rovers are perennially popular among car collectors - they are generally affordable, hold their value well, and are easy to fix and restore.”
As with any collectable market, there are trends to be observed and acted upon. Big, brash, limited production supercars are falling rapidly out of fashion as they lose their value the minute they are harshly accelerated down the Kings Road and their manufacturer releases another “investment grade” limited edition model. Ferraris, Porsches and even the more staid Aston Martins are providing little to no ROI, whereas the timeless (if a little bulbous) Mercedes-Benz 190SL has sat at about £100k for several years now suggesting that they’ve found their level in the market. For now...
Those with decades of experience in buying and selling valuable old objects could be lured in by the tasty ROI some of the aforementioned classics provide, but selling old vehicles requires a very specific set of skills - spotting fakes is incredibly difficult on an item with thousands of individual parts, and mis-reading a chassis or gearbox number can render a car practically worthless.
Jaguar E-type Series 1.5 4.2 Fixed Head Coupe, 1967.
Image courtesy of The Motor Shed Ltd.
Any car collector or seller worth their salt needs not only eagle eyes, but fairly deep pockets. Even the most reliable of modern day steeds can lead to hefty garage bills, but the maintenance of older engines can often cost more than the car housing them. Parts, labour and expertise all come at a price, and first time classic car dealers are often surprised by the cost of simply keeping their car on the road. More seasoned experts may have good contacts or the ability to carry out their own work, but even they understand that making a profit on a car requires immense effort and a dose of good luck.
If an antique sideboard is a self-sufficient adult, a Jaguar E-Type Series 1 is an impatient toddler, requiring constant supervision to avoid disaster. While most collectables can be left unattended without major adverse effect, cars need to be cajoled and indulged, even when not in use. A full restoration to bring a car up to a sellable condition can take anywhere from six months to a decade, and then any resulting financial profit must be measured against the time taken to achieve it.
This is by no means to diminish the painstaking care many antique dealers take over their acquisitions, but the mechanical knowledge, expertise and patience required to successfully deal in classic cars is often wildly underestimated by both buyers and sellers.
For those thinking about turning their collecting hand to automobiles, I urge you to first consider how many valuable side tables, grandfather clocks and objets d’art you could fit in an empty garage.
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