Silverphile
John Kuhn Bleimaier
I See Red
When it comes to vintage Mercedes-Benz automobiles, I am a purist. I treasure originality and eschew that which is fake or aftermarket. I see red whenever I encounter a hacksawed and mutilated old Volkswagen dune buggy masquerading as a prewar classic Mercedes, with false radiator enclosure and counterfeit star. At one point, some scamps were marketing a fiberglass ark with a GM V-8 slushbox that was intended to look like the legendary 500K Special Roadster from Sindelfingen. I can scarcely keep down my gorge at the thought.
By the same token, I react violently to those who would desecrate a Mercedes old-timer with unwarranted stylistic flourishes. A while back, I remember a lady who covered the roof of her 450SEL with grained vinyl to create the look of a faux Fleetwood Brougham. Uggh! Then there was the lout who emasculated a graceful Finback utilizing a coarse grinder and body putty. Another dude with an El Camino fetish chopped a 600 Pullman in order to produce a monstrous pick-up. Would that the angels of good taste intervene in these cases with their terrible swift swords and banish these aberrations to the hidden heap of automobilia.
At Amelia Island this year, I saw red … in a somewhat different context. Allow me to explain. On the contrasting green grass before the Ritz Carlton, there reposed resplendent a crimson roadster, fleet of line and possessed of an egg-crate grille in the fashion of an early 1950s’ Ferrari Barchetta. However, on the bonnet in place of the yellow badge with the “cavallino rampante,” there was – what to my wondering eyes – but a three-pointed star. I did a double take. I stopped in my tracks, mouth agape and eyes bugged out.
Quite fortunately, the vehicle’s owner was standing nearby and I was able to satisfy my hyper curiosity without resorting to any unauthorized touching. The scarlet, stellar roadster is denominated a 1953 Kircher Special. It was a successful racer in the Sports Car Club of America (SCCA) way back when, and since 1957, powered by a Mercedes-Benz 300SL engine with transmission to match. Conceived by German-born racing mechanic, Kurt Kircher, the unique aluminum body was fashioned by Denver-based coachbuilder, Charles Lyons. The carrosserie – or body – claims the distinction of opening like a clamshell for mechanical work. Suspension, brakes and chassis are one-off.
As I carefully examined the Kircher Special, I found myself overcome by an unexpected sensation. I am not sure that I can explain it. Should I feel embarrassment? Can I confide in you? Well, here goes … I like this car. I feel better now that I have gotten it off my chest. I like the Kircher Special. To my fellow Mercedes purists, allow me to elaborate: This is not a kit car or a poseur. It is a purpose-built chassis and body for the track, designed back in the day for an SCCA racing class. This creation utilized the unbeatable 300SL engine and transmission. The car has heart. It has soul. It is not a desecrated Gullwing. It is a 3-liter Mercedes-powered open sports car that antedates the 300SL Roadster.
While I was admiring the Kircher Special, an impeccably tanned Floridian, with trophy wife on his arm, commented to the owner, “You should have scrapped this aluminum body and installed that 300SL engine and transmission in a new gullwing body, which one of the restoration shops could easily have fabricated. That way you could have maximized your return on investment.” Then I did see shades of red before my eyes. You understand, whenever someone talks about the thoroughbred classic cars that I love as mere trading commodities, it’s as if that person were waving a red flag in front of a charging bull or Ronald Reagan. Or me.