8 cars (and bikes) we’ll never sell

The Collector Car Appreciation Week celebration continues! So far we’ve peeled back the curtain on our own dream cars, great roads, some of vehicles in our personal collections, and now, the beloved machines we’ll never sell. Is there a machine with which you could simply never bear to part? Show us in the Hagerty Community comments. 

Porsche Boxster S

The right sounds, perfectly crisp turn-in, and just enough power to get into trouble. Or: How I learned to stop worrying about the funny headlights and love my first-gen Boxster. I needed a convertible—the weather in Northeast Ohio dictates open-top driving for every rare moment of sun. I knew the Boxster S was for me within the first few miles of driving it, and eight years later I still feel the same way when I head out for an evening scoot through the country. It was affordable (still is) and easy to work on, so I don’t mind paying a little extra for parts. I’ve got other cars for more grip or speed, but I find myself picking the Boxster more often than not. It’s pure and simple, as a convertible should be. — Eddy Eckart

Honda XR250R

My Model A Ford is never leaving my care for many reasons, but joining in in my forever ownership is the Six Ways to Sunday Honda XR250R. I blew it up (twice), rebuilt it three or four times, and I still regularly ride it. It’s a great loaner trail bike to just have around should I ever “upgrade” to something more modern, but with the Race Tech tuned suspension under it I don’t have much reason to go to a younger repli-racer. More speed isn’t always a good thing. This 250 and I just get along, and I don’t see that changing. — Kyle Smith

1970 Lamborghini Espada

I’m not promising I’ll never sell it because my pattern up to now has always been to sell everything to make way for new things. But I’m slowing down. So, the car I’m least likely to sell is the 1970 Lamborghini Espada that I bought in 2010 as a rebound from my first Espada that I foolishly sold in 2006. I am the third owner, the car still in original paint with its original interior. When I removed the engine for rebuilding in 2011 I noticed that the right cylinder head casting had the same date as the day I was born (a Friday, not surprisingly, given the casting’s horrendous porosity). The left one was cast two days earlier. I have rebuilt everything mechanical on the car but have not touched the interior or exterior. However it may be time; it has been hit twice by other cars, once by a Ferrari at Pebble Beach that slipped its parking brake and rolled into it (where else would a Ferrari hit a Lamborghini?) and once while sitting innocently on the lift in my garage, which is a sad tale I would rather not go into. — Aaron Robinson

Regular Cab Toyota Tacoma

Back to the basics. May I present to you my illustrious 2013 Tacoma regular cab pickup. This five-lug Taco is a reliable, modern-day workhorse, much like the ’80s Toyota trucks people adore. Every nut and bolt on the thing is well understood, reachable, and repairable for the self-reliant DIYer. There are little to no complex electronics or special equipment required for maintenance. As the divide grows between this simple Taco and the overstretched and overstuffed trucks of today, so does my appreciation for it. Chugging around the Midwest, its crank windows and low revs are fine by me and will be for miles to come. — Bryan Gerould

1972 BMW R50/5

The car I’ll never sell is a motorcycle, a 1972 BMW R50/5 that I bought in college in 1975. It’s a toaster tank model—meaning it has a full-size chrome plates on the sides of the gas tank—and it has hand pinstriping on the fenders. Aside from my friend Charlie, the Beemer is the longest ongoing relationship in my life. It’ll never be worth a whole lot as the value of old BMWs isn’t as high as you’d think, but my son knows it’ll be his someday, hopefully a long time from now. The day my body doesn’t let me ride it anymore is when it goes into the living room and, as a result, is probably the day my wife files for divorce. — Steven Cole Smith

1975 BMW R90S

The car I’ll never sell is also a motorcycle, and also a BMW: a 1975 R90S that I bought in 2015. The R90S is the sports model of the 900-cc R90, a generation past Steve’s bike but basically the same machine. It means so much to me on so many levels. A 90S was the first motorcycle I saw in person and fell in love with, as a much younger man. The model was dreamed up at a time when a company I love was deep in money and image trouble. Detroit’s Bob Lutz, then a BMW executive, had the bright idea of snazzing up the firm’s staid touring bikes with Italian carburetors, double-disc brakes, and a stylish fairing. The result somehow won Daytona and helped save the brand.

Mine is painted creamsicle Daytona Orange, one of the two colors they came in. I bought it in Phoenix with 55,000 miles on the clock, then rode it home to Seattle. I’ve been around the country on it and still ride it regularly. It’s a tractor, as motorcycles go, but it’s also one of the simplest, most pure joys I’ve ever met. — Sam Smith

1995 Porsche 911

I am reluctant to write this for fear of sounding like a Porsche Club weenie, but the last car I’d sell is a 1995 911. I pined for one since they were new. It’s no expert at anything, but a solid seven or eight in the areas I want an old car to do: Agile and communicative on the backroads. Enough practicality and comfort. A/C. It has 105,000 miles on it and has plenty of driver patina, so there is no penalty to actually using it. It will also likely always be worth at least what I paid, $30,000, which is a good savings reservoir for the wheelchair and Depends I might need one day. – Larry Webster

2001 BMW Z3

Not a motorcycle, but I too am attached to a small BMW. I’ve owned my Z3 since 2014, when I burned half of my meager 24-year-old savings to buy it. At the time, many friends and co-workers owned Miatas; I was looking to do my own thing and satisfy a deep affection for inline-six engines. The Z3 and M coupe are what people go ga-ga over, but convertibles offer an experience that’s more visceral and appealing, in my view. The Z3 was designed to feel like a classic British roadster, using a somewhat primitive semi-trailing rear suspension from the E30 3 Series to lend it old-school handling characteristics. It’s 21 years old now, and the Z3 is proving more timeless than the better-performing, more sophisticated Z4 that followed. I’ll stick with it to the very end, no matter how many cooling systems it takes. – Eric Weiner