Let me share a secret with you: the less appreciation there is for older cars, the more affordable they become for enthusiasts like us. This is especially crucial as we approach the era of Autonomous Driving, which might just close the door on this golden age of vintage car affordability. The shift is happening now, but don’t worry, it’s not too late to jump in.
My advice is simple: find a vintage car you love while you still have the chance. For me, that’s my 1973 Citroën SM – my true automotive soulmate. It’s the most genuine relationship I have, my mechanical spouse if you will.
Now, let’s clear something up. My affection isn’t just for older cars; it’s a deep-seated love for them. This isn’t a mid-life crisis thing, and it’s definitely not because I lack options with newer models. Older cars are simply superior in ways that younger me couldn’t grasp. They possess a certain knowingness. They understand their needs and desires. Their quirks are known quantities, already addressed and understood. They are dependable in their own unique way. Treat them with respect, and you’ll find a rewarding and enduring partnership.
Mon dieu, je t’aime. My SM.
My SM isn’t a fleeting infatuation like modern cars that seem eager to please, ready for aggressive test drives, and easily acquired through tempting finance deals.
Does this mean new cars are inherently bad investments? Absolutely not. Just as not every new relationship is shallow, modern sports cars still hold a certain appeal. However, a golden rule remains: never buy a car in its first year of production. Even today’s technologically advanced vehicles can suffer from initial design and manufacturing flaws. Once these issues are resolved, they can lead to a satisfying long-term relationship, but it’s still a gamble.
Personally, I prefer to let others take those initial risks.
Sa Majeste. Let’s address the rumors about the SM’s reliability. Okay, some of them have a grain of truth. The earliest models, admittedly, were problematic. They had their share of issues and could be unreliable. It didn’t matter how well you cared for them, or where you took them; sometimes, they just refused to cooperate.
Looking back, it’s clear that those early SMs were too immature for a serious commitment. Much like that college crush who didn’t appreciate your affections, no matter how hard you tried. Why would she? She lacked the maturity. You hadn’t yet developed the understanding to navigate years of challenges together, offering unwavering support. Even if you were willing, life often got in the way. The more neglected she felt, the more issues arose, creating a cycle that might lead you to seek a simpler, less demanding relationship.
And so, you might have parted ways with that increasingly temperamental, fluid-leaking SM that wouldn’t start reliably. It might have seemed like the right decision at the time, but I understand the regret of losing that initial spark. I’ve been there, giving up on those early models. I didn’t fully grasp what I was sacrificing, opting instead for a younger, seemingly more dependable, “better” option.
There’s a term for those fresh, untroubled models perfect for those—like my younger self—unwilling to invest time, learn patience, or make compromises: Toyotas. Now, I’m not saying all dependable cars are like Toyotas in a negative way. I’m using “Toyota” as a metaphor for any car “guaranteed to function flawlessly from day one.” It’s not an insult to Toyota, a brand that generously gave us Lexus, but there’s a reason even the finest Lexus in the longest, most stable ownership rarely inspires intense envy: they are readily available, and they likely won’t demand unwavering dedication.
“I adore you,” early SM owners would whisper to their cars each morning, “I’d do anything for you.”
Silence would be the only reply.
“Just tell me what you need to be happy. I’ll do it. Please? S’il te plaît?”
Still, nothing.
Because nothing seemed to satisfy them. They were yet to discover their own needs and desires. Just like those early romantic relationships. Maybe your first, second, or even all until you found “the one,” and even then, challenges might persist.
Why? Perhaps your standards weren’t refined enough. Maybe you hadn’t yet defined what you truly sought in a partner, or in a car. You likely didn’t understand each other’s languages, both literally and figuratively. But with knowledge comes understanding. With time comes experience, and ultimately, trust.
However, a Citroen SM, when meticulously maintained by a specialist like Jerry Hathaway, can achieve a condition surpassing even its original factory state. Many vintage SMs lack complete service histories, but a thorough inspection and restoration by a trusted expert can breathe new life into these classics.
For every car brand, in every corner of the globe, there exists at least one dedicated expert, often more. This is one of the great benefits of the internet for vintage car enthusiasts—it empowers the first generation of us seeking to forge a lasting bond with that dream car that once adorned our bedroom walls.
These days, platforms like Instagram surpass even the most captivating car posters of my youth. The internet, in general, has revolutionized the accessibility of vintage car ownership, making research, acquisition, and maintenance easier than ever before.
While I’m uncertain if the internet has improved modern dating, it has undoubtedly transformed every aspect of discovering, purchasing, and maintaining a vintage automobile. If only dating websites offered the wealth of information now readily available online about vintage cars. Within minutes, I can access comprehensive lists of common SM issues. With some strategic searching and social media exploration, you might uncover similar insights before a first date – maybe. However, you’re unlikely to convince someone’s ex to divulge intimate relationship details, unless, perhaps, things took a dramatically negative turn, which might surface in a quick online search. I’ve been down that rabbit hole (the online search, that is).
On a side note, an ex once attempted to harm me, and it wasn’t because I asked her to push-start the SM in heels while I steered. Which she did, twice, the latter being the push-start in heels. But that’s a story for another time.
Regardless of our deep dives into technical specifications, horsepower figures, and manufacturing intricacies, the average person often misses these details. They likely don’t grasp the effort involved in creating these machines. They may not even be aware of the actual costs. What truly matters to them is the perceived value, which isn’t solely based on monetary cost. Over time, it increasingly becomes a function of rarity, the driving force behind the value of items no longer produced.
Usually, that’s the case.
Perhaps this explains why even my well-maintained Citroen SM is still valued around $30,000, comparable to a fully-equipped Honda Accord. Citroën produced too many of them, and despite the fact that many have succumbed to rust, the reputation of the less-maintained examples overshadows the gems. I can live with this, because while public perception and reality haven’t fully aligned, ownership grants me something truly invaluable: respect.
Not the respect derived from mere monetary worth, but the mutual respect born from a genuine and reciprocal relationship, and, among those in the know, the respect that comes from discerning taste.
And taste, thankfully, is free.
I’ve been “married” to my SM for almost eight years, initially acquiring her for $20,000 with 52,000 miles on the clock. I’ve invested roughly $8,000 in routine maintenance and $14,000 in an engine overhaul. Now, she runs flawlessly. So, for a total investment of $42,000, with about $1,000 per year for upkeep, I’ve finally found the ideal, enduring partnership with a stunning French classic. A car I understand intimately, capable of keeping her happy, and always ready for a drive to dinner or a weekend getaway. Okay, maybe not always “always ready,” and perhaps not for extreme distances, but such profound connections aren’t meant to be effortless, especially long-term ones.
But I am content, and I believe she is too. True automotive love is attainable, waiting out there in the forms of Alfas, Porsches, Tatras, and countless other older models from various manufacturers, all longing to connect with the right enthusiast. But time is of the essence.
So, don’t hesitate. Drive with style, but love wholeheartedly. The rewards of true automotive passion are immeasurable.
Alex Roy is the author of the LiveDriveRepeat blog, President of Europe By Car, the founder of Team Polizei, Editor-at-Large for The/Drive and author of The Driver, which recounts his NY-LA Cannonball Driving Record, achieved in 31 hours and 4 minutes.
Follow him on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.
Image sources: roadsmile.com, petrolblog.com, pistonheads.com, autoandrive.wordpress.com, classiccartrust.com, gieldaklasykow.pl, blogspot.com, hooniverse.com, blogcdn.com, influx.co.uk
