I'm growing increasingly interested in Brazilian market cars. There's something so familiar, yet very different about them.
(Though I also have a soft spot for South African cars, too.)
Photograph courtesy Mecum
The six best/worst words in the English language: “Bro, keep it at my house.”
A good friend regularly eggs me on to buy something new. My reality: I’m happy with what’s in the garage. And that garage is full thanks to a Miata, M3 and 911. Our Civic Si lives in the driveway.
Of course, I’m regularly tempted. After all, who isn’t?
Are you equally haunted by these missed opportunities? I have six in particular that still make me wonder what would have happened if I actually went for it.
Photograph by David S. Wallens
I love cars that are unusual yet attainable. Call it a way of punching above your weight class.
My wife and I didn’t own a standard, British-built Mini, for example, but instead we found an Innocenti Mini from Italy. At least among the Mini community, it got people chatting. (To most everyone else, it still looked like a standard Mini.)
Something even more unusual yet, underneath, still rather serviceable: How about this 1979 Chevrolet Opala Comodoro spied at Mecum’s Kissimmee sale not too long ago?
What is it? Call it an Opel-derived pillarless coupe powered by a General Motors inline-six and sold in Brazil. Depending on the spec, an Opala could be a police car, a race car or an executive car. Many also saw use as taxi cabs. This one, a sporty Comodoro model, saw bidding peter out at $10,000.
The details reminded me of GM’s American offerings of the time–Coke bottle styling, chrome-plated plastic vents and oh so much brown–but wrapped up in totally unusual sheet metal.
Plus, it had a four on the floor and those cool mags. It’s like a standard Camaro or Nova from an alternate universe.
Who cares if it came from the so-called malaise era. The cockpit felt open and welcoming. Plus it worked well in those earth tones.
The good: I’m assuming the local Autozone offers every mechanical component. And the harsh reality? What happens if you need a piece of glass or trim?
Photograph by David S. Wallens
It looks like a Ferrari GT that’s parked far away. Meet this 1967 ASA 1000 GT Coupe.
In the late 1950s, Ferrari toyed with the idea of a small-bore GT line. Gioacchino Colombo designed the 1-liter engine, Giotto Bizzarrini did the chassis, and Carrozzeria Bertone penned the tiny, timeless body.
Ferrari decided not to enter this market, though, with production eventually going to ASA, short for Autocostruzioni Società per Azioni. After its debut at the 1962 Turin Auto Show, production started in 1964. The expected numbers never materialized, with maybe a hundred copies of the 1000 GT built before the run ended in 1967.
This one sold for $74,800 at Mecum’s Kissimmee sale two years ago. That’s basically Hagerty’s number for one in only “fair” condition. While not a sales success back in the day, today I bet it could have gotten me into The Amelia. Looking back, what if I sold my Porsche 911 to buy this?
Photograph courtesy Bring a Trailer
Everyone likes air-cooled Volkswagens, right? My college roommate had a ’67 Bug followed by a ’70. We’d regularly go to the local NOPI and look at parts that we couldn’t afford. After dreaming for a few, we’d walk over to the comic shop.
What’s cooler than a Bug? How about a Type 3, which many of us associate as the Squareback, Notchback or Fastback.
In Brazil, though, Volkswagen offered additional Type 3 variants, including this 1600L four-door sedan. It looked clean in the listing and should score well at any local Bug show here in the States.
Selling price via Bring a Trailer was a tick less than $11,000 which seems fair in today’s market.
Then it gets a little too close for comfort: The seller was located a few minutes away from us. No idea where you get body parts for this one, too, but maybe it’s still good that I didn’t see this ad until just after the auction ended.
Photograph by David S. Wallens
Can you go home again? Maybe?
My wife and I owned a string of wishbone Hondas, so named due to their double A-arm front and rear suspensions. That setup gave these Civics and CRXs a low center of gravity along with suspensions that craved lowered ride heights. It’s the car that helped define the sport compact scene of the ’90s.
The Type R badge has long represented the top of Honda’s range. When affixed to a 1997-2000 Civic, that meant less weight, more brakes and a high-revving inline-four good for about 182 horsepower at 8200 rpm.
We had a 2000 Civic Si–angry but not quite this angry. I sat in this one for a long time. It went unsold at $30,000 which seemed a little optimistic for me, though.
I happened to be there when they drove it to the auction block. Nothing else sounds like a Honda starter. When the time’s right for a JDM Honda, I tell myself, others are out there.
Photograph courtesy Japanese Classics
Honda wasn’t the only one to offer a pumped-up econobox to Japanese consumers. Toyota fielded the Trueno BZ-G.
While not sold stateside, the front of the car might look a little familiar as we received the pedestrian version–yes, the humble Corolla sedan and wagon.
The Trueno BZ-G, though, received a 20-valve inline-four backed by a close-ratio, six-speed manual box. Individual throttle bodies came standard. It made close to 165 horsepower.
Where a Civic Type R now fetches at least $20,000, this one was advertised by Japanese Classics up in Richmond for $12,795. I think I’d be comfortable taking that risk–and, for a minute or two, started to ponder the logistics of getting this one home.
Photograph courtesy Bring a Trailer
A green BMW wagon with a stick pushes a lot of my buttons. Fortunately, I stumbled upon this BaT listing long after the 2018 auction listing.
What makes this one so special? While Alpina is long-associated with upgraded automatic transmissions, this E36-chassis Touring had been converted to a five-speed manual box. So that means it can legally wear those snazzy Alpina graphics but would still offer the fun of a manual box. And unlike many other E36 Tourings, this one had the 2.8-liter six instead of a smaller four.
It sold for $12,000. Bring a Trailer recently got $40k for another E36 Alpina Touring converted to manual. Someone, I think, landed a good deal on the Boston Green one. Sadly, though, that someone wasn’t me.
1998 BMW Alpina B6 2.8 5-Speed Wagon
I'm growing increasingly interested in Brazilian market cars. There's something so familiar, yet very different about them.
(Though I also have a soft spot for South African cars, too.)
In reply to Colin Wood :
I hear you on the Brazilian cars. That Chevy was cool. When a friend shared similar sentiments about that partcular car on FB, I knew it wasn’t just me.
And I sat in that Type R for a looooooong time. I do miss our wishbone Hondas. They were truly awesome cars: fun, reliable and competitive autocrossers.
A Civic Type R would be like the holy grail. But what’s a fair price to turn back the clock?
Feel you on the type R. When it was time to get a "cool" car I crossshopped the 996, 997, NC Miata and NA1 NSX.
I went for the NSX but I have a kiddo now and love snowboarding. The lack of a backseat and ability to attach a bike/snowboard rack has me wondering if the Integra type R would have been a better fit for "future" me.
Fun fact-the NSX has a latch system so you can still setup a front facing child seat seat.
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