5 Reasons To Love Old Used Cars

Am I the only one who loves crusty old cars? I’m not talking about the epic barn finds you hear about every now and again, where someone cleaning out a chicken coop stumbles upon a 1967 Corvette buried under decades of dirt and feathers.

I’m talking about the older cars that are still on the road, striving to be more than the sum of their parts. Odds are they’re faded, maybe a bit rusty, and have almost certainly been neglected for much of their existence. And since there are no federal vehicle inspection standards here in the U.S. (most states have varying requirements for either emission or safety inspections, though 14 states have no requirements at all), it’s not uncommon to find cars faithfully trying to survive when they probably should’ve been put down long ago.

Maybe that’s where their endearing nature comes from. When enthusiasts see a tired old car defying the odds, especially one that has a smidgeon of performance DNA, it becomes more than just a piece of machinery. It has history. It has battle scars. It has a soul.

Not everyone can drop a quarter million dollars to revive a rotted E-Type Jag or an original 427 Cobra. But maybe you can keep that old Escort GT on the road for another year, giving it one more chance for glory. Yeah, I’m something of a sap like that, but if you’ve ever given your car a name, you probably know the exact feeling I’m talking about. That’s why, as long as I can turn a wrench and hold a paint gun, I will always enjoy shopping for old and cheap used cars.

Here are a few other reasons why going old can be more rewarding than going new. And so you don’t think I’m just pulling this out of my behind, I’m using a few of my personal cheap car challenges over the last 15 years as examples.

Character

In 1987, this Mk2 16-valve GTI was exactly the same as every other Mk2 GTI on the dealership lot. When I bought it for a whopping $600 in 2003, the floor under the driver seat was so rusty that the front seat bolts actually pulled clean through the first time I floored it. That didn’t stop me from flooring it on a regular basis—I just needed a firm grip on the steering wheel to keep from rocking backward like a fighter pilot. Add in the hidden zip tie handle to open the hatch, the nonexistent idle when cold and the shifter with a broken guide for engaging reverse, and it became a car that could only be driven successfully by someone who knew its character. We were bonded, and I loved every minute of it.

Uniqueness

Remember the old Escort GT I mentioned previously? Sadly, us petrolheads in the States never got the epic, rally-bred Escort from across the pond, but I always had a thing for the first generation GT, which is why I bought this 1990 model for pennies on the dollar back in 2002. Throw a decade or two under any car and it becomes something of a rarity on the road, but the Escort GT was fairly rare even when brand new. This one cleaned up well, and of all the cheap car adventures I’ve had, it still holds the title for getting the most attention. I really don’t know why—the only explanation I have is that nobody knew the GT even existed in the first place.

Depreciation

People are holding onto their cars longer than ever, but vehicle depreciation still tends to bottom out around the 15-year mark. So when I bought this LT1-powered 1994 Buick Roadmaster in 2010, I knew that as long as I didn’t do anything stupid, I should come out relatively even on the sale. After nearly a year and a half in my care, I sold it for $2100—$300 less than I had in it. Considering gasoline had shot past $4.00 per gallon in the U.S. and people were running away from big V8 cars like the plague, it wasn’t a bad sale. That’s especially true when you consider new cars lose thousands of dollars in same time frame.

Technology

Technology certainly isn’t a bad thing. That’s why modern American muscle cars are banging out 400-plus horsepower while returning 30 miles per gallon. But with the extra technology comes extra headache—how many of you have check engine lights because the engine computer doesn’t like your cold air intake or exhaust modifications? Or maybe your car won’t even run with the new intake until you get a tune for the PCM? Or worse, how many have been stranded because a sensor didn’t want to play well with others?

Purchased in 2011, this 1992 Mustang LX convertible had just enough electronic control to help me diagnose problems, but the old-school 5.0-litre V8 was a breeze to work on and modify. No catalytic converters? No smog pump? No problem. Not that I ever did such things. That would be wrong.

Satisfaction

Yes, this is the exact same car pictured at the top of the article. I found this 1991 Taurus SHO (with the rare Plus package) at a public auction in 2006. It looked like Satan’s butt crack and was destined for the scrap yard (I was literally bidding against a scrap yard owner), but the engine felt strong and the five-speed manual felt tight, so I rolled the dice, bought it for $400 and drove it home. After considerable elbow grease, bloody knuckles, and another $600 in replacement parts, this old SHO not only looked great, but it served me as a fast, fun, faithful daily driver for two years, accumulating 24,000 problem-free miles on the broken streets around Ford world headquarters in Southeast Michigan. I can’t imagine ever feeling the same kind of personal investment and satisfaction for a new vehicle as I felt for this one.

Sure, I like new cars. But I positively can’t wait for my next cheap car adventure. And with my Sable SHO wagon now sold, the next adventure is right around the corner. Stay tuned.