Project Chronicle

For me and most of us enthusiasts, hearing the car is an extremely obvious and exciting way to enhance the driving experience. But, like I said in my previous post, I want the car to remain relatively OEM+ without doing anything too crazy and obnoxious. After a lot of research and hours on YouTube finding sound clips, I decided to go with the Strömung E30 325i specific catback exhaust. I read some good things on the R3V forums, but quickly realized the posts were years old. I reached out to the company and the owner, Scott, was extremely receptive and personally interacted with me. Though they didn't currently produce them at the time I bought mine, he got the BPs and made one for me anyways. The quality is second to none, finished in a super nicely crafted polished stainless steel construction, resonated exhaust tips, and some of the better welds I have seen on an exhaust system.

Quite honestly, its not as loud as I wish it was, and sometimes I feel dumb spending the $ to make it just a little louder...But, it looks much better, and is probably the equivalent of a modern day factory optioned 'M Sport Exhaust'. Again, OEM+ was my goal!

When I first got the Mercedes-Benz 190E 2.3-16 Cosworth home, I reached out to the dealership in Pennsylvania that was listed on the service reminder sticker in the windshield. I asked if there were any records of repair available, to which the service manager confirmed that yes, they did.

Amazingly, the service manager said he'd send me copies of the records they had on file, which were surprisingly complete. Now, most dealers will never release the service records, so I'm forever grateful this advisor agreed to do it. I look at the report every now and again, which confirms the 190E was well maintained before it ended up in the hands of the last owner before it went to the salvage yard. 

The most interesting detail is that it dropped a piston at just over 66,000 miles. In terms of the Cosworth engine, there's not much evidence that the DOHC mill has a tendency to burn through pistons. Although the details are sparse on the service reports, I've always been curious how extensive the repair was, and if the dealership made other fixes "while they were in there." 

We'll never know for sure what else was fixed at this time, but it's a fascinating anecdote in this car's colorful history. 

For years, I have proclaimed my undying love for the 1986 Mercedes-Benz 190E 2.3-16 Cosworth I rescued out of a junkyard in Pennsylvania. Let me explain why. 

It's the car I wanted since I was 16; it somehow corrects the emotional debt I carried for years following a junior prom date not becoming the girl I would marry (despite hoping with every fiber of my being that it would be so.) I looked at a Cosworth at a local car lot with my Dad shortly thereafter and he was ready to buy it as a consolation prize (my father did not spoil us, but he followed a code that prompted him to act impulsively and out of love when his kids were truly hurting.) Suffice it to say, his colleague that owned the lot specializing in desirable European stock told him I'd put it into a tree within about a week, and that was that. 

I know, there's a lot to unpack there, but this is why I buy needy cars - it absolves me from seeing a therapist. Anyhow, a Cosworth has remained on my car-buying radar for years. I've had opportunities to buy driver-quality examples but never felt inclined to do so. For some reason, buying this rusty, half-pillaged junkyard find was the trigger for finally bringing one home, which I find aligns curiously with the state my sixteen-year-old self was in when Liz and I didn't pan out way back in the year 2000 (God, that is a long time ago now - why am I still talking about this?) 

So, to see the Cosworth entering its most prolonged, expensive, and agonizingly tedious phase - that is to say, bodywork and correcting years of neglected rust concerns and shitty repairs (I swear, they repainted this car with three times the necessary material - the finish is so ungodly thick) is giving me heartburn. Look, it's expensive, and I'm using the most sketch-ass version of a body shop there is, the equivalent of a backdoor card game in a bad neighborhood with prostitutes doubling as bouncers. It's the only way someone like me can afford to take on a dumb-fuck project like this. 

I hate it. I love it. I hate seeing updates from the guy working long hours in a dingy garage with no ventilation because I know I owe him another $300 for something I didn't know was broken; I love it because I see that shape come back to life and all the emotions come roiling back, like I'm going to drive past Liz's house in this car and flick her off, just like I planned to do when my Dad was ready to pay Chuck Mitchell the measly $9,000 that would've bought a nice one of these 20 years ago. 

All of that is in the past. It's just in the past. But the Cosworth is here now, and while I continue to chase every side hustle I can find and chuck shit onto craigslist in hopes of a quick buck or two - all driven by getting this project done this year - I find myself in that uncomfortable middle ground of wondering why we do this to ourselves as car enthusiasts, while simultaneously already knowing the answer. 

Just a quick update here: the Mercedes-Benz 190E 2.3-16 is coming along. We're chopping up the bodywork into phases so I don't go broke. First is the rear of the car, which is the worst and most complex. 

Fortunately, $160 worth of replacement rear quarter panels and a $180 taillight panel are saving my butt and budget. These pieces have been chopped up to repair various sections of the rear quarters (with the exception of the taillight panel, which was just cut out entirely) and have yielded significant time and material savings. I have no idea why a Japanese company sells replacement quarter panels for a W201 chassis car, but I am glad they do. 

The trunk lid has to be repaired next. I bought a junkyard lid which we will use to swap the Cosworth spoiler over to, as the original trunk was too heavily damaged by the bozos at the salvage yard that ripped it open when they couldn't find a key. 

Once this is done, it will be sprayed with primer and parked until I can scare up the cash for the rockers. 

I feel like I'm at the meeting in the church basement, admitting that this was not a good week for me. I gambled, I drank, and I ate too much. Some avoidable missteps where I failed my friends and family after a few solid months of avoiding what leads me to sin. 

My body guy pulled the rear bumper and lower skirt. As expected, this was pretty distressing. I knew this was going to be the worst part of the car, but I didn't know how bad. The rear taillight panel is actually pretty straightforward, as I have an OEM panel to weld in. Frankly, it's the easiest part. 

The lower rockers are pretty bad. That's the disappointing part. I was foolishly hoping I'd see clean sheet metal underneath the rear skirt but I knew this was unlikely given how we could already see daylight in the lower pockets of the trunk on either side. 

The shop is still trying to knock this out in a week to keep costs contained; fingers crossed we're done with the rear panel by Friday so my budget isn't blown out before we even get started. 

Most people would be excited to hear from their local service department that an update is ready on their vehicle. Not me. 

So, I've had this Mercedes 190E 2.3-16 since 2018. Since that time, it has been made into a runner. But really, just a runner. Nothing more, nothing less. Considering it arrived from the Pennsylvania junkyard I found it in with no fuel system, radiator, or rear windows, being a runner is a pretty big deal. 

Now, my body shop that made the Trooper RS into a whole vehicle is taking on the Cosworth. This is sort of my siren song in the project car world. I can't do more big projects. Other responsibilities need to take over. Family, retirement, and all that. Those things have still been humming along just fine but I'm tired of spending money on cars. It's time to take the kids to Disney World, or something. 

Still, the Mercedes has to get done. And my body guy called and said, "It's time." Time to tear out the back taillight section and weld in a new panel. Time to patch the holes the floor with fresh metal. Time to do something with the rear quarters involving a bit of filler, fiberglass, and metal. Time to replace the trunk lid with one that wasn't torn apart by the salvage yard when they couldn't find a key. I've gotten too close to this project being complete to stop now, and while the next few months will be brutal, I'm optimistic it will be worth it. I do love driving this car and have wanted one longer than any other.

More updates to follow. 

There comes a time when a project is finally to the point that you can drive it - for an extended period - and you realize it was all worth it. 

More than other efforts, I struggled at times to understand if restoring this rare 1989 Isuzu Trooper RS - code for short wheelbase and 3.77 gears - was worth it. I had to move it multiple times, starting with going from Massachusetts to Maryland, where I thought my brother would hook me up with a shop to work on it (he didn't.) I then decided to haul it back north to a shop that was all of 15 miles from where it was originally found as they promised to work on it (they didn't.) I was about to lose all hope when a chance encounter on Instagram of all places led me to a guy named Jay Gaston who offered to bring the Isuzu back to life as part of a moonlighting gig he had working on Japanese four-wheel-drives. 

Jay did everything he promised and then some, revealing the Trooper was a healthy truck under years of faded paint and gummed-up fuel systems. However, as is often the case, it was not just bad gas that needed resolving. The floors were gone, as were the rockers. There was a heavily compromised control arm assembly on the driver's side. The time in the body shop was far from cheap and made me question my decisions on a very personal level. 

But finally being able to drive it for 30 minutes like any other car and finding out it fits like a warm glove with the perfect door placement so your arm rides on the window sill with your hand gripping the vent window frame - all while it bounds happily down the road like some metaphor involving a labrador puppy - well, that's the stuff, kids. That's what you hope for when it's all done. All the mental anguish caused by small problems that become big and only you alone can solve make owning a restoration project a master's class in project management. 

This Trooper RS is a honey, and we are psyched to finally give it a forever home after sitting in a western Massachusetts junkyard from 2005 to 2020. 

As we know by now, I've had some unfortunate surprises related to rust on the '89 Trooper RS. The first was the driver's side floor, which was effectively, gone. What I thought was floor turned out to be a very robust carpet pad and when lifted away, there was daylight everywhere. 

While this was a monumental job in and of itself, we weren't out of the woods. Jay - my mechanic - noted that the driver's side control arm assembly was compromised by rust. Not the arm itself, mind you, but what it bolted to. There had been, at one time, a little housing that held the brake line and likely also provided some reinforcement to the shims that were used to align the front end. That housing was effectively gone on the driver's side, along with the plate that lent support to the motor mount. Needless to say, there was no avoiding this work given how deep I am into the truck. Not going to roll the dice on life safety. 

Take a look at the pictures and you can see the night and day difference. After grabbing a panel cut from a Trooper frame with the housing intact, we learned that Isuzu overhauled the front suspension in 1988, so the cut we got didn't line up with my suspension geometry. I called a friend who had a pretty rusty truck in his yard, and he managed to carve out enough of that section of the frame to give us a useful amount of metal to repair the bad areas on mine.

The work is done; the before and after is hugely satisfying, even if it means this second phase of bodywork isn't going to be much cheaper than the first. 

One of my favorite things about old-school cars is single-stage paint. It's a shame the industry moved away from this (though I understand why) as there are few things more rewarding than scrubbing off some chalky, faded paint and seeing original luster come back to life in front of you. 

As we near the end of the bodywork phase on the Trooper RS, my body man Nelson started to buff some small areas. He sent me these photos as they capture what the rest of the truck will eventually look like. It's absolutely incredible and probably one of the most rewarding moments of this journey; when I laid eyes on the Trooper in a salvage yard in Western Massachusetts, I was pretty confident the paint would come back to life. Now I have near infallible proof that it will. 

Before I picked the truck up, I had never looked at the odometer. It wasn't until it was being loaded I peered in and saw it had just 55K miles. From the lack of wear on the pedals to the cleanliness of the interior to the perfect compression numbers, we had all the evidence we needed that this mileage was genuine - but buffing ou that small corner of the fender leaves no doubt this is one of the lowest mileage short wheelbase Troopers in existence.