Passion for the classics

AFP

Thomas Kurz strokes the hood of his Plymouth Road Runner almost affectionately with a cloth. “It’s a 1970 model,” he says,
alluding to the fact that this highly polished muscle-car with 335 horsepower under the hood is exactly as old as its owner.
Kurz is a trained vehicle mechanic who specializes in US classics. Late last year, he went solo and opened a little workshop on his parents’ farm. There, he restores, repairs and provides maintenance for big American cars that barely fit on the average European parking spot.
In a sign of the growing interest in such vehicles, the recent sixth edition of a recent US Car Convention in Dresden, Germany took bookings for 1,200 vehicles and 15,000 visitors, according to organizer Mathias Lindner.
For the first edition, in 2011, fans took just 300 cars to Dresden and there were 4,000 visitors. Car owners from as far as Norway, Lithuania and Hungary came to this year’s show, says Lindner. It included rock ‘n’ roll, typical American food and a 101-year-old Dodge as well as brand-new cars made in the United States.
A sense of America as a paradise of self-indulgence, as the not-Germany, makes some Germans starry-eyed. The feeling may be heightened around Dresden and Bautzen, where Kurz lives, by the fact that their area was under totalitarian rule until 26 years ago.
Kurz shares his passion with his girlfriend, Irene Grusla, who organizes the business side. If there is time to spare, she will pick up a wrench too to take apart eight-cylinder engines under her boyfriend’s guidance.
31-year-old Grusla discovered her love for American cars during a trip to Florida, and she later met her boyfriend in Dresden’s US car scene. Kurz bought and restored his first Ford Mustang in 2008. “I just wanted to work on a V8 at some point,” he recalls. “And to enjoy the special sound under the hood during rides.”
Most German cars are powered by smaller straight four or straight six engines. Where a German car purrs, an American car roars. German makes pride themselves on refinement, whereas US classics are brash and flash.
The German US car fans are a colourful bunch, including both passionate autofreaks and mechanics. Some of them see the classics as an investment: they will sometimes pay 15,000 euros (16,600 dollars) for what looks like a wreck and put in at least that much money again to fix it in a way that respects the car’s history, then wait for someone to fall in love with it.
Kurz shows, on a sandblasted car, where steel bodywork had turned to rust, concealed by layer upon layer of cosmetic filler. Some owners would despair, but not Kurz. You cope, you find a fix: “We get them all back on the road,” he says.
Solutions can be time consuming, relying on spares cannibalized from junked cars and patient searching. Kurz orders many spare parts directly from the United States. Through a friend, he made contact with Americans who, if needed, will look in scrapyards for the parts he needs in his German workshop. The clients are happy to pay.
On weekends in particular, Kurz and his girlfriend like to get in the thirsty Road Runner with their young daughter and cruise the region. They need to plan 15-20 litres of petrol for every 100 kilometres. “The odd shower won’t hurt the car,” the mechanic says. “But if it is already raining before we head out, the Plymouth stays in the garage.”
This year’s Convention in Dresden was the first where Kurz’s workshop showed off its restoration projects. The highlight was a 1968 Chevelle SS convertible they meticulously restored over several months. When asked how many hours went into that project, Kurz looks at its glossy chrome engine. “That’s impossible to say,” he muses.