Here's a pic of well restored DKW (Das Kleine Wunder). Mine was, as 18 year olds are want to describe things, "baby crap yellow." It was a genuine Auto Union and had the 4 rings up front just like Audis do today. The rings stood for Audi, DKW, Horscht and Wanderer. 

I paid $19.95 for it from the dad of my best friend in high school and drove it until I graduated college. Suicide doors, 3 cylinder, 2 cycle engine, front wheel drive, freewheeling (that's actually a thing) and 4 speed on the column. It would spin the wheels going into 3rd hear and sounded like a rabid chainsaw. Perfect for me. Lots of camping trips in that old and quirky vehicle!DKW_Universal_3=6_[1958)

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OK, sorry, Kevin (and Jim), but here's yet another off-topic post.

But it touches on a lot of those off-topics we've drifted into here.

At Cars and Coffee this morning, here was one of those '$ no object' cars that any red-blooded car guy will, by nature, lust after - a 1959 Ferrari Testarossa.

Testa01

Testa02

Testa03

Testa04

Testa05

Testa06

 

Except it probably wasn't really, because I didn't see any Brinks guards stationed around it and we lumpenproletariat were allowed to belly up and spill our morning coffees on it.

But damn, somebody had done a pretty bang-up job of recreating a mofo Testarossa. Frame tubes, body panels, instrumentation, perspex windscreen, open-gated gearchange. Under the hood was a gen-u-whine Colombohmygod V-12, with the requisite surfeit of velocity stacks and Weber carburetion.

This would definitely be more motivating to drive than my little, ersatz Speedy.

But the question lingers. What the devil would I do with this thing if it were parked in my garage - let alone a real Testarossa? Take it to coffee Sunday morning?

As cool a machine and arguably as much a work of art as it is, there's that butthole factor looming large here. Would I have to wear a bag over my head every time I took it out? I know my wife wouldn't be caught dead within mille miglia of the thing.

I'm thinking maybe it's best to let the legends lie. I can be Juan Fangio or Hans Herrmann in my dreams. But on the roads I drive, I need more earthly wheels.

 

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Would drive. I don't GAF how I look (as those who know me can plainly see). If I had the $500 million net worth, and I got the $20 million classic F car (or the C Jag or the D Jag or the Birdcage or the Gullwing or the 550 or...)

—I would abso-friggin'-lutely drive them in public. Every day feasible. 

How could you not?

 

Today's C&C was the monthly 'EuroSunday', so fewer 'Vettes and more, well, Euro stuff.

But still, I was amazed to see just how many late model Ferraris, Lambos, and McLarens turned out. This was in the heart of one of our more prosperous burbs where, if you got it, you flaunt it, baby.

The surrounding McMansions have all sprung up in the past 20 years or so. The money, like the houses, is mostly newish. Many have moved here from the Bay area, driven out by cost of living. And the realization that you can sell a house in SF, buy a larger one here, and still have enough left over to buy the car of your neighbor's dreams.

Apparently, it takes more than a 'Vette or an S-Class to impress today.

In the parking lot, lots of talk about how much this or that costs, very little about throttle-induced oversteer.

 

 

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