I bought my first car in college. While most everyone was driving rust buckets or building Mustangs and Cameros, my best friend rebuilt a 60's vintage MGB. That summer I fell in love with cars from across the pond and stumbled across a '73 Audi 100LS. It was perfect, low miles, fuel injected, looked and smelled like a BMW 2002 at a fraction of the price...I was sold. One problem, the lack of miles on the odometer was due to the cars second home, our local Euro-car care center. My friend convinced me that it wasn't the car's fault, it was obviously the lack of properly trained techs that had kept this sleeping beauty off the road. The deal was done, the car arrived in all its glory being dragged from the hook of a wrecker. Within a few weeks we had studied all the information available on this fine steed and set to work on her. The mechanical fuel injector was rebuilt as well as the distributor tower and transmission. Within a few months we were flying around the local roads as if on rails. Then it happened, on our favorite set of turns, a quick down shift to set up the turn, the suspension wound low to the ground like a leopard about to attack....then: bang, slap, slap, slap slap, thud......silence. There it lay, like a small robot with truncated arms....the trans-axle bleeding it fluid on the road. Once again it was on familiar ground, hanging by its nose from the hook of a tow truck. Minor set back, lesson learned, rebuild, stronger this time! Within months it was back on the road... well..............the side of the road actually, my soon to be ex-girlfriend grinding the starter as I tried to tighten enough bolts on the fuel injector to ensure combustion. Nothing says romance more than the smell of raw fuel. That fall, the ad went in the local paper: Classic Audi 100LS, low miles, perfect interior and paint corners like its on rails. Diane, if you read this, I buy American now!
The deal was done, the car arrived in all its glory being dragged from the hook of a wrecker mercedes wheels
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