As I read Jim Schrager’s “Porsche Gespräch (March, p. 48), it occurred to me that after all these years I may have come across someone who could help me with my dilemma. Since July 1998, I have owned a triple black Porsche 911 Factory Widebody Convertible, which is all stock. I did not buy the car because I am a Porsche collector, but because I think it is one of the most beautiful automobile designs that I can afford to drive. I also have a 1966 Corvette Coupe about which I feel the same. My quandary is this: Not being well schooled in Porsches, and having been given so much conflicting information when I ask self-described “experts,” I have no idea how rare or valuable this car is, or if it is just another 1998 911 convertible. I do not ask this because I want to sell it. I have no intention of ever selling it, but should the need arise that I would have to put money into the car to enjoy it, I would like to have some idea of when that dollar stops making sense. Any information you could pass on to me or any direction you could give me would be greatly appreciated.—J. Craig Griffis, Sylvania, OH

Jim Schrager responds: What you have is simply a very nice used car. There are lots of these around, so they are not rare, but they will always be a great car to drive and enjoy. Will they be collectible? I doubt it; Porsche simply made too many. But maybe in 40 years or so, as with almost any 356, prices will firm. In the meantime, they will fall in value for many more years but will reach a floor, below which they won’t fall. That floor today is about $20,000 or so, but it may be higher in nominal dollars 40 years hence.

Recently, I took a trip from Las Vegas to southern Florida to see three cars I wanted to inspect, hopefully purchase, and eventually arrange shipping for to bring home. During my long hours in the air crossing the country I took that time to catch up on the last three issues of SCM and I have to say “Bravo!” From Keith Martin’s reference in the January issue (“Shifting Gears,” p. 10) to the phenomenal book dot.con by John Cassidy to the sound advice of several columns talking about collector car values and the bubble that surely envelopes the clone market, your magazine continues to inform and educate everyone from the seasoned collector to the beginner. There was one commentary I didn’t see that I think is worth mentioning. To make a clone you have to alter or destroy another collectible car. The defaced example might be a nice Plymouth Satellite made into an imitation Road Runner, or a sweet little Malibu morphed into a replica Chevelle SS, but my point in both cases is a vehicle that used to be true to itself is gone, and in the end that strikes me as very sad. One of the cars I purchased in Florida was a well restored 1969 Plymouth Satellite—all numbers matching—with a fit and finish that told me there was at least one previous owner along the line who probably spent more than the car was worth. Now I’m home and I find myself practically giddy, and I can’t wait for the car to get here. When I agreed on a price and bought the car I felt a little like a buyer on the Plymouth showroom floor in 1969. I’d bought a nice Satellite I could afford instead of the Road Runner that was out of my price range.  The best advice I can reiterate to SCMers is to buy good cars—nice examples that are true to themselves, even if they aren’t the SS or the Hemi, because in the long run they’ll be better off. I have more than a few cars that could have easily been turned into clones over the years, including a 1968 Camaro, a ’68 Chevelle, and my new soon-to-be-delivered ’69 Satellite, and I think they’re all great cars in their own right. Oddly enough, last fall I decided to sell the one true high-end muscle car I ever owned, a 1971 Chevrolet Chevelle SS convertible with the original 454 under the hood (the sale was profiled on page 98 of the March 2007 issue of SCM). I sold the car because in the end I’m a collector who drives all the classic cars I have in the garage whenever I can, and driving a car that nice and that valuable just made me nervous—even more so when my wife borrowed it.—Doug Shaffer, Las Vegas, NV

Keith Martin responds: You make a great point, Doug. It seems that over the last few years, too many people thought they’d found alchemy in muscle cars, and that by dropping a Hemi into the slot that once held a 318, they’d be able to create some auction block gold. It worked for some who got there early enough. But what seems to have gotten lost in the madness is that while people thought they were building “something” from “nothing,” the opposite is a little closer to the truth.

I’m writing because I was the high bidder on the red 1970 Hemi ’Cuda, lot 280, at RM’s Biltmore sale. It was one of the first Hemi ’Cudas to sell that weekend, and I was quite surprised the owner let it go at a price that after commission would only be about $270,000 net to him. I called Galen Govier, and we went over to the Biltmore on Saturday morning to spend a couple hours inspecting the car. It was purported to have the original engine and transmission and be numbers-matching. What we found was that although the car indeed had just 2,400 miles, it had lost its engine, as it was a drag car. Instead it carried the engine out of a 1968 car. The sellers were nice enough, but someone who had restored the car to that level surely knew the engine was incorrect. Their proof that the engine was original was a sworn affidavit from the original owner stating so. Govier called the original owner and asked him if the engine had ever been out of the car. He said it had been sent to an engine builder in Detroit, but they had “just replaced the pistons.” Needless to say, the sale was rescinded.  I have quite the muscle car collection, so I am interested in your take on prices. I really think it is supply and demand. For example, I paid $480,000 for a green Hemi ’Cuda last year at Barrett-Jackson. Obviously I should have waited until this year to get that car, as it is probably only worth $250,000 to $275,000. More cars and less demand equals lower prices.  The ’Cuda fiasco above really screwed up my weekend; I was shell-shocked. Before going out to Scottsdale, I had a game plan, but I didn’t stick to it. This year there were some really good buys on some great cars, like the white and black 1967 Z/28 from B-J at $110,000. Or the 1968 Yenko Camaro at B-J for under $200,000. I really didn’t pay attention to those two cars, as I thought they would be $150,000 and $325,000, respectively. A collector friend of mine bought the 1970 Road Runner 440 Six Pack convertible for $165,000 late Saturday evening. Just after that a 1971 383 4-speed Challenger convertible went across and sold for about $80,000. Another great deal on a low production car. The green $264k 1969 L88 Corvette at B-J was the car I really should have been on, but I let someone talk me out of it because green is an “undesirable color.” In retrospect, I like green, and it was an L88. Is green really that bad, or is it just that someone decided green is bad and we all believed it? A huge mistake. It wasn’t all bad, I suppose. I did bring home the Dennis Ferrara/Richie Zul Motion-sponsored 1969 Z/28 from B-J. Next year, however, I think I’ll stick to my game plan.—Robert Tyler, Winfield, KS

Keith Martin responds: Auction companies find themselves in a no-win situation with cases like this. Having an “affidavit from the seller” in hand would certainly seem to be proof enough that a car has its original engine, and no further investigation would be warranted. And when a sale is unwound, everybody loses, from the auction company (which has invested time and energy and a slot to sell the car, which could otherwise have gone to something else), to the seller, who goes home with his car that may now be devalued due to a cloudy reputation. SCM continues to advocate that sellers be absolutely straight up about any plusses or minuses a car has. In the end, the truth about a car will eventually emerge. And as we live in a litigious society, somebody, somewhere, will have to make the situation right. Kudos to RM for stepping up to the plate and unwinding the deal, brickbats to the sellers for not being more forthcoming. 

In his profile on the 1958 BMW Isetta 600 (April, “German Profile,” p. 48), Rob Sass wonders if the front tube bumper on the car is correct. Well Mr. Sass, it is correct for an American-market BMW 600. Only the European BMW 600s had the “sharp-edge” bumper to which you referred. However, the car in question sports five-inch headlamps, which were only available on the European version. The seven-inch headlamps and tube bumpers were done specifically for the U.S. market, so I can’t tell how this U.S.-market car came to acquire its European-market headlamps. Since the headlamp buckets are easy to switch, it is possible they were swapped at some point, or perhaps the car just came into the country this way “somehow.” Regardless, nice background coverage on a model that is fairly obscure.—Jim Janecek, The Vintage Microcar Club, Evanston, IL

In reference to Mike Sheehan’s April article on pre-purchase inspection and who should pay for deficiencies found (“Sheehan Speaks,” p. 38), I have a formula that we use with success in the marine industry to assign responsibility.  As the owner of Cape Fear Marine, we are involved in yacht brokerage as well as custom construction. In each sale process, a marine survey is performed to determine condition, much like a pre-purchase inspection. We assign three areas of findings: Safety; Recommendations; Observations. Safety issues are the responsibility of the seller. Recommendations are items that need to be addressed in a timely manner. And Observations are things that will need to be addressed at some point, but do not affect performance or safety at that moment. Each area is ranked from highest to lowest priority. Typically, the areas of recommendations are where the buyer and seller negotiate work to be performed and who pays. This formula takes some of the uncertainty and finger pointing out of what is an emotional purchase, be it yachts or automobiles. The process also provides the buyer a “road map” for future issues that will need to be addressed after purchase. I am fortunate to have been a gearhead most of my life. I grew up across the street from Norman Silver, a wonderful mentor and noted Ferrari collector, had John Clinard, FoMoCo executive and SCM contributor, as a groomsman in my wedding, and have owned, by my wife’s count, around 300 cars since our marriage (lost money on 296). But most impressively, I am a former winner of the SCM Mystery Photo Contest. With these credentials, you know my process works.—Paul Ingle, Cape Fear Marine Yacht Group, Wrightsville Beach, NC

As a retired journalist who worked several decades for a major network in television news, I was surprised about the candid comments from a Speed Channel executive that Keith Martin’s commentary “doesn’t support the market we’re broadcasting to.”  It would appear Speed is interested in helping auction houses sell cars, and if someone’s opinion or the truth gets in the way of said auction company’s marketing strategy, then that someone can’t be on the air. In the name of honesty, Speed needs to run a graphic throughout the several days of coverage with the words, “The program you are watching is paid for by the auction company, which has total editorial control over the comments of its reporters.” The good news is that Speed Channel won’t have to interrupt their important marketing meetings to fill out an application for a Peabody Award.—John Motroni, San Francisco, CA

I always enjoy seeing articles pertaining to the Fiat 8V Ghia Supersonics. I have owned two of these lovely cars over the years (0041 and 0043), and have done extensive research on the Ghia 8Vs. Your profile in the March issue (“Etceterini Profile,” p. 44) was generally accurate; however, you have given some misinformation about these cars generally and on your feature car specifically (0039) that should be clarified for the record.  The “Supersonic” moniker is widely associated with these cars, but was first used in reference to the three Jaguar XK 120 chassis rebodied by Ghia in 1954. It now is the accepted reference for the 8V versions as well but was not used originally.  You state that only eight examples were built. There were actually 15 examples built on the 8V chassis between mid-1953 and 1954—s/n 0035, 0036, 0037, 0038, 0039, 0040, 0041, 0043,  0044,  0045, 0049, 0053, 0054, 0055, 0056. Three of these are not presently accounted for. The profiled car is, as you noted, widely known in the 8V enthusiast circle. However, it is not regarded as having had a superb, historically correct restoration. Most of the knowledgeable enthusiasts consider 0039 to be a lovely “Auction Quality” car. From 30 feet away, this car looks terrific. The body fit and paintwork are all very nice. Where 0039 falls short in the quality of the restoration is within the engine compartment and within the interior. Many items and trim pieces are either incorrect or missing. The list is fairly extensive.  Considering how these cars seldom surface for sale on the open market and the new owner’s desire to acquire one likely explains the strong price paid for this car. That being said, this car does now set a benchmark for the pricing of a Supersonic. I would think a correctly restored Supersonic might bring $50k–$75k over the $453k paid for 0039—maybe more.—Erik Nielsen, Sonora, CA

Donald Osborne responds: The build dates for the Jaguars may have been after the Fiat production began, but obviously the design pre-dates them. Since the world knows all the cars with this design as “Supersonic” and the Fiats were referred to as such in period, the distinction is not really necessary. Regarding the number produced, you are correct; 15 cars were built. In my final paragraph, I state the car has had “a superb restoration to a very high standard,” not an “historically correct” one. There is a difference. I do not disagree with your price assessment on what an “historically correct” 8V Supersonic might bring over this one, and it has indeed set a benchmark.

In your April story of the 1936 Delahaye Type 135 Special (“Etceterini Profile,” p. 44), you refer to the “all-conquering German cars” in the 1930s, giving the reader the impression that this would apply to two-seater sports cars, too. It did not. It only applied to grand prix racing, where the only two non-German wins from 1934 through 1939 came from Alfa Romeo at the 1935 German Grand Prix and Delahaye at the 1938 Pau Grand Prix.—Martin Schroeder, Hannover, Germany

Being an SCM subscriber and a Corvair owner, I appreciated the number of auction reports covering a variety of Corvairs in the April 2007 issue. As usual, B. Mitchell Carlson’s sense of humor and accuracy was right on the mark.—Paul Gibson, Rossland, British Columbia, Canada

I read Pete Zimmerman’s letter in the April issue (“You Write, We Read,” p. 16) regarding his puzzlement over the 500-horsepower car. Although I do not disagree with Keith Martin’s response, I think he missed a FUNdamental fact. The 500-hp car has very little to do with the people who buy the cars, or the fact that of those who do buy them, 99% either cannot drive them as intended or do not visit venues where the cars can be properly exercised. No, my friends, those who build and those who buy are simply supporting those of us who find ourselves part of the most significant subset of the car enthusiast hobby: The Dreamers. I am part of that subset—a 53 year old guy whose brain, when the opportunity presents itself, will dream boyhood fantasies. And one of them, the most time consuming, concerns cars—fast, curved, beautifully chromed, shaved, frenched cars.   Zimmerman would be correct to write that there’s an awful lot of print about an awfully small batch of cars, if there were no dreamers. But it is the dreamer who supports the market, who has bought enough issues of SCM to help the magazine go from its relatively humble beginnings as the Alfa Romeo Market Letter to a 146-page, full-color extravaganza. I have owned some fun and neat cars—a few Porsches, a couple Ferraris, and an E-type—but honestly, none of them has given me as much pleasure as my dreams.  What is the best and most important part of dreaming? It keeps us in touch with the boy inside, the boy who often is forgotten (and sometimes orphaned) as we don our Brooks Brothers and Armani suits, fire up our 500-hp lawyers and 1,000-hp lines of credit, and drive the rat race that consumes so many and conquers the most unfortunate among us.  It is turning the pages of SCM, Hemmings, Evo, and other motor mags at kitchen tables, visiting the Petersen Museum and The New York Auto Show with siblings and parents and sons and daughters, and watching NASCAR and Formula 1 (at 1 am from Japan) that keeps the boy fuelled and fun.  I will never be able to afford a Pagani Zonda F (my current all-time favorite), but I hope Horatio Pagani continues to build this Fabergé Egg on wheels. That it is only a dream didn’t stop me from visiting and wandering about the factory and looking at the lobby showcase with its sample  pair of shoes that every Pagani owner receives—shoes made from the same leathers as the interior of the purchaser’s car and, I was told, crafted by the Pope’s cobbler.  I think we should spend less time growing up, and more time growing down. We owe it to the boy inside.—Cliff Ingber, Greenwich, CT