They say is true love is blind. That true love follows the whims of the heart, the intangible yet incredibly powerful strings of emotion, and that true love is devoid of the slightest farthing of logic or sanity. And they're right. Absolutely.
What follows though is the fact that love shouldn't have anything to do with logic or sanity. There is too much logic in the world, isn't there? And if petrolheads aren't the last of the eccentrics, the ones who follow the heart over mind, or the ones that venture into the unknown as true adventurers, then who is?
The truth is, I'm one of those eccentrics - or so I like to believe. And quite frankly, there's nothing I enjoy more than my insanity
. With that introduction, I begin a small anecdote which will walk you through one of my first automotive loves, and how it turned into reality.
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Rollback to the past. The year is 1996, and a young kid of 9 learns that his uncle has just brought home a spanking new Mercedes. Mercedes, did you say? Aah... the ride of royalty, the elegant ocean liner. The beautiful straight lines, the understated design, the three pointed ornament on the hood - It all spells unmatched grace and dignity. The kid sits in the car for the very first time, caressing the soft, real leather, the wood veneer, amazed at the German attention to detail - for this is a kid who's loved anything on four wheels even at his tender age - and the biggest cars he's probably experienced and loved are dad's Maruti Esteem or Tata Sierra. The E220 fascinates him. "I'm gonna own one of these someday," he tells himself.
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Fast forward to 2011. The kid has turned a lot older, and is contemplating the purchase of his first own car. The kind that the family doesn't buy him, but he brings home with the fruit of his very own toil.
(We're not going to go into the buying decisions, contenders and details here, as none of the other contenders came close to this decision. Frankly, the Mercedes crosses out none of the criteria needed for the new car. That's why I'm a petrolhead!)
We go for a drive to NH8, and maneuver uncle dear's Mercedes over a variety of road conditions - The difference? The aforementioned 'kid' is the one who drives it. The car he's sat in, loved and longed for for 15 long years is in his hands. The Uncle's W124 is well-maintained to this date, to say the very least. The paintwork shines, the interior exudes love and care, the engine is as refined as a car at a showroom. The suspension glides over potholes, and the car does a 0-100 kmph in 10.xx seconds. GTO was right - the W124 E220 was F-A-S-T. And this one still is, mind you.
Love wins again. Against reason, logic, and a decent amount of advice and resistance from friends / family. "How do you think you'll maintain it?" / "What if something goes wrong?" / "It's a white elephant, for God's sake!" Petrolhead talks to uncle, and after a certain amount of discussion and persuasion, uncle decides to let the car go to someone who cares so much about it. He's got a few more, newer, swankier MBs, Jags, what not. Why shouldn't he sell an old car to a *kid in love*??
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So at the end of that, I now am the proud owner of my very own W124 E220. 1996, single owner, 150 horses, 4-cyl inline gasoline, 2198cc. But you know all of that. As for the price, I'd rather not disclose it publicly. Let's just say it was well worth it.
She's eager to be revved, shines like a knight, built like an indestructable tank (yet a she!), and each part of her amazes me with quality of materials and detail. After 15 years, each chrome bit shines! And yes, I forgot to mention - she's practically virgin at 140k kms. I hope she serves me well for the years to come. And just so you know - I hope to never sell her. Ever.
I'll now shut up before I cry (and I just might. Of everyone in the world, the team-bhpians should know how this feels. I finally did it), and let the pictures do the talking.