I’ll start this off by talking about myself and my journey so far with my own car.
I’ve always been obsessed by cars. From as early as I remember I was reading the names on the back of cars on our family road trips in the UK, and teaching myself to identify them by the shape of the tail lights or headlights. I am deeply interested and compelled by cars of all shapes and sizes. Cars just grab my interest, and seeing something I’ve never seen before is always a thrill, even if it’s relatively ordinary.
As a teenager in the 1980s some cars stood out to me more than others: the Ferrari Testarossa, the Lamborghini Countach, and the Audi Quattro.
As I neared 40 years old, the urge to own a project car started to blossom inside me. I wanted something affordable, old enough to be able to work on it myself, manual and still fun to drive. I thought about an older Volkswagen, or maybe an MX-5, but I kept coming back to 80s and 90s Audi coupes. I had owned a barn-find coupe quattro in the UK which I bought for 350 pounds, and worked on with a friend to get back on the road. I learned a lot, made mistakes, but we got it running and road legal. It was never reliable. Then the side was run into by a learner moped rider. He was unhurt but it dented my door. Eventually I sold the car for 250 pounds. But along the way it gave me some great experiences and a lot of smiles.
There’s something about that 80s shape that really appeals to me, and nothing sounds like an inline-5 engine. Even though it was what I really wanted, I discounted the idea of buying a quattro turbo early on as they were starting to go up in price and were way outside the budget I had set myself. I looked at a Coupe quattro, actually rarer than the turbo with only 3000 built. In pictures the car looked great, in Tornado Red, but something felt off about the seller so I walked away.
Then I received an email via a car forum from a guy called Steve in Taupo saying he had a quattro in his shed that he hadn’t got around to working on. Bit of a project but he’d be willing to sell it for a very reasonable sum, and it came with a 2wd parts car. Despite Steve’s assurances, for the asking price I thought it couldn’t possibly be a turbo, but I went up to check it out. Steve had to work that day so he left the car in the driveway of his rural property, with the keys, and said to just rock up and check it out.
The second I drove around the corner and laid eyes on the car I’d already bought it. It was definitely a turbo, wide arches, digital dash, and very complete. I didn’t look too hard at the scuffs and rust marks, the duct tape covering holes in the bodywork, the spider webs and rat droppings in the engine bay, the flickering dash, or the whiny power steering. I certainly saw the potential. The car started, idled, drove okay up and down the drive. And there I was, hooked.
A few weeks later Project Rusty was delivered to my door in Wellington and the long saga began.
My plan was a light restoration over about a year with a small budget. Oh how optimistic I was! Rusty was road legal around five and a half years later, at a cost of around four times the original budget. And that’s doing a big chunk of the work myself.
There were times when it didn’t seem worth it. When it took months to find a particular part, or after spending over three hours on one rusty nut and bolt. Or the times when I thought I’d fixed something, then later realised it had to be taken apart and done properly. And on several occasions where I thought I was done, then realised I was actually nowhere near.
The lowest point for me was about two years in, when I had the bodywork all fixed and freshly painted. The car looked amazing. I re-assembled the interior, got the whole car back together, then I had a really good look underneath and realised that everything needed to come off and be replaced or refurbished. That was the point where I realised how much I’d underestimated the work needed, and that my budget was wholly inadequate. I felt the sinking feeling that I’d made a huge mistake.
You often hear about projects that have stalled. Someone takes a car apart and never gets any further, or they are “still working on it” but the garage door hasn’t been opened for 15 years. I suspect a lot of projects stall at one of these low points where the owner either realises they have taken on too much, or it becomes clear how much money needs to be spent to finish it.
But I stubbornly refused to let that happen. I was going to enjoy my classic 80s car if it bankrupted me!
I jacked the car up and rested it on four axle stands, and bit-by-bit I started work. Off came the suspension, sub-frames, exhaust, brakes and brake lines. The rubber bushes were all perished, brake calipers seized, brake lines worn out. I found more rust in the floorplan which needed to be cut out and welded. I slowly learned how to repair everything and worked through cleaning, stripping, painting, or replacing everything underneath. There were parts where I needed professional help, but I did as much as I could on my own. Many cuts and bruises were inflicted. Many swear words were muttered. So many.
And eventually after a couple more years, a lot of hours, money and patience, Project Rusty sat in its own four sparklingly clean wheels.
It was almost time to go and get a Warrant of Fitness test. But first a test drive. With great trepidation I eased the car out of the drive and drove it around the block. All good, no bad noises. So I decided to venture farther afield and go to the petrol station a kilometre away. It was over 12 years since the car had been road legal so I wanted to keep a low profile. This was when Rusty decided that every time I turned the steering wheel, it would beep its horn. So everyone was looking my way. It was the most embarrassing and funniest drive of my life. It was a problem of my own making when I had replaced the steering wheel, and it was easily fixed.
After a few attempts, and a few more repairs both electrical and mechanical, Rusty passed its first WoF in years and was road legal. There was still a long list of jobs written on the garage wall, but at last I could drive my project car! I upgraded my AA membership to the maximum just in case, and optimistically booked the car into the Gumboot Rally, a run of over 1000km of New Zealand’s best roads over a weekend. There were a couple of breakdowns on the lead-up to the event: a flat battery at the shops, and a couple of times the car refused to start - turning the key did nothing - then it would suddenly fix itself.
I persevered and one sunny September Friday we headed off on the five-hour journey from Wellington to Taupo, to start the rally. Our first stop was a tyre and suspension shop about 50km from home, to try and fix the rubbing from the rear tyres. It was never a problem until the first time the car had two people and luggage on board. With that under control, we stopped for petrol. Once fuelled up, the car refused to start, eventually kicking into life with a bump-start thanks to a push from a helpful passer-by. We soldiered on. There are some pretty significant hills on the road to Taupo, and Rusty did not like them at all, getting slower and slower towards the top whatever I did. Eventually we limped into our motel for a welcome rest.
Early the next morning I pulled out the jack and toolbox and had a good look around. There was oil and coolant leaking onto the ground, the head gasket was weeping, and the car still refused to do anything on turning the key. It definitely wasn’t doing the rally! At least I won the Gumboot’s “Epic Fail” trophy for Rusty’s failure to get to the start line. On Sunday afternoon we had a visit from the AA, to no avail. And I managed to crack a rib whilst trying to diagnose the electrical fault. The AA eventually agreed to cover a tow truck to take us and the car back to Wellington and we finally got home at 1:30am. After that the AA said "Please don’t call us again this year”.
Back into the garage went Rusty and I started the rather daunting task of removing the head. I have some practical skills learned from my dad, and some basic mechanical knowledge learned mainly from building Lego, and from the internet. Many jobs on the car are approached with a degree of trepidation, an abundance of caution, and an openness to learn. This means I often do a job once, then do it again better.
Over this project I’ve learned when to ask for help, or get professionals involved when I know my skills will only take me so far. I removed a lot of stuff, didn’t break many things, and eventually the head was out. Along the way I realised all of the vacuum lines, boost and water hoses were perished. and the turbo and wastegate looked pretty sorry for themselves too. The head and turbo both went off to be refurbished at local specialists, and new hoses were ordered from overseas.
Due to some personal issues and some procrastination it was several months before everything was back together. I finally got the head bolted on with moral support from a good mate who’s an ex-mechanic. Doing that final turn on each head bolt was nerve-wracking! In the end everything went well and the car was drivable once again. There were more problems to be fixed - various fluid leaks, boost issues cutting power, electrical faults and the ABS playing up. I promised to attend, and failed to get to several car events.
But finally with most of the problems fixed, I managed to get to an event in Ohakune, which meant around 800km of driving over a weekend. This included several runs up Mt. Ruapehu to the ski fields. It was a fantastic weekend, hanging out and eating with friends, driving, and taking photos.
The highlight of the weekend for me was early on the Sunday morning. I headed out for coffee around 8am and the sun was just rising behind the mountain. The sky was clear and blue, and that winding mountain road up to the ski field called to me. I headed up, not another car in sight, and just felt an awesome feeling of freedom.
Driving my 80s classic car, which I had rebuilt myself, along smooth winding roads, windows down, forest flashing alongside, and views of the snowy peak ahead. The sound of that 5-cylinder warbling, the whoosh of the turbo and wastegate, the sheer satisfaction and feeling of achievement as I shifted gears, blipping the throttle on downshifts, revelling in the manual controls. Then suddenly there was a flash of blue paint in the mirror, and gaining on me fast was a 1986 Ferrari 328. I pulled left at the next straight and the driver dropped a gear and howled past me, that 3.2-litre V8 gloriously on song, and seconds later it was out of sight. What an experience!
Rusty has proved very reliable over the last year, starting every time, and running well. It’s 36 years old, so there are still things to fix and improve. and it’s still a little incontinent. But I’ve been able to use and enjoy it regularly.
Every time I think about driving the car, every time I open the door to the garage and see it sitting there. Every time I remember that I own an Audi Quattro, I get that little spark of excitement in my chest. This is why I wanted a project car.
This car is more than a machine to me, more than a project, more than transport. It’s a car I can drive just for the enjoyment of driving. Even though it’s nowhere near as comfortable or efficient as a modern car. There are all sorts of compromises. And for me it’s not so much about driving fast, but driving well. Trying to thread through the bends smoothly, get that downshift just right. When you do, it’s so satisfying. It’s about the tactile nature of an old and manual car, the rattles and creaks, the smells, the connection to the steering and drivetrain. That, and knowing how it’s all put together, because I put it together.
Have you had a vehicle that was more than just transport? Something that took you places you didn’t expect, or became something special? I’d love to tell your story. Comment below or email inoneear@substack.com and I’ll get in touch.
great write up rob, i didn't know you had a barn find CQ in the UK growing up? cool start to 5 banger ownership
Great story. Congrats on sticking with it and getting to enjoy it as it should be.