By naterisch
11/10/2014
Last week, I brought home the Shark, which clicked the car-counter into the unprecedented nosebleed territory of eleven. For the record, the basic enumeration is this: There are, as I like think of them, the Nixon-era triplets: the ’72 2002tii, the ’72 Bavaria, and the ’73 3.0CSi. There are the Zs: the ’99 Z3 and Z3 M coupe. There is the recently purchased E30 ’87 325is I wrote about in Roundel.
By naterisch
11/03/2014
I hear Led Zeppelin’s “Trampled Under Foot”  playing somewhere in the distance. I hear the sound of fluorescent lights humming overhead. I see on my calendar that it’s fall. All of these things pile a heap of depression the size of a large sedan on my brain.
By naterisch
11/02/2014
A few weeks ago, I concluded a piece with “I have almost enough money to entertain doing something really stupid.” Come on, it’s me; surely you didn’t expect to hear, “nah, nothing happened; I was good, sane, and boring.”I bought a 1979 Euro 635CSi.
By naterisch
10/27/2014
The day started out great. I had received an invitation just a couple of days before to a BMW M track day at the Thermal Club in Southern California, host of the new BMW Performance Center West. I had to work the day before, so I was making the two-hour drive out to the Coachella Valley before the sun came up.
By naterisch
10/27/2014
A few months back, I wrote about doing the brakes in a customer/friend’s car, a tidy-looking small-bumpered square-taillight 2002. He’d bought it as an inexpensive running-but-non-drivable project. It came to me with brakes that were essentially non-functional—and leaking brake fluid to boot. 

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