The Daily Vroom

Good Morning Vroomers,

Something worth paying attention to here, because this isn’t random.

We’ve talked a lot about how platforms are trying to pull more people into the room, collections, themed drops, anything that turns listings into events rather than just inventory. That play is still happening, but now there’s another layer coming back into focus.

Cars & Bids just launched Key, a new YouTube channel, and this isn’t Doug reviewing cars, this is culture, storytelling, the stuff around the cars that keeps people engaged even when they’re not bidding.

If you’ve been around a while, it’s hard not to see shades of Petrolicious in here. Will be interesting to see how this grows without Doug front and centre.

You Wait Years for This… and Then Don’t Drive It?

I keep coming back to this one because it’s doing two things at once, and both are hard to ignore.

On one side, this is just outrageously good. This 1991 Porsche 911 Turbo reimagined by Singer is about as dialed as it gets without trying too hard. The Lunar Silver has real depth to it, not that flat silver you forget about, and pairing it with that Photon Red interior is the kind of decision that could have gone sideways but instead lands perfectly.

It feels confident, not loud, and when you look closer the details start stacking up, from the floating gauges to the way every material actually works together instead of competing for attention. Then you remember what sits underneath all of this, over 500 horsepower, manual, rear-wheel drive, built properly, no gimmicks, which is exactly why cars like this have such a pull in the first place.

What I can’t wrap my head around is everything that happened after it was built. Because someone didn’t just buy this, they commissioned it. They chose this spec, waited years, went through the entire process, and ended up with what should have been their perfect car, and then drove it less than 900 miles before moving it on. That’s the part that feels off, not because low mileage is unusual, but because with something like this it feels like the experience was cut short before it ever really began.

From the buyer’s side, it’s kind of perfect. You skip the wait, you avoid the guesswork, and you get a car that is effectively brand new but already executed at a very high level, which is exactly why it’s already at $1.4 million with over a week to go and will probably land where it should.

But here’s where I land on it, and it’s pretty simple. Everyone is entitled to do whatever they want. If someone wants to commission a car like this, drive it a little, and then flip it, that’s their call. Maybe they see it as part experience, part asset, maybe the timing made sense, maybe they just moved on. That’s the reality of this market.

To me, though, it’s borderline sacrilege, but maybe that’s just me as I like to drive the cars I own, I know, sounds crazy right?

You don’t go through all that effort to build something this good just to sample it and move on. That’s not ownership, that’s a transaction. And that’s fine if that’s how you view it, but it’s a completely different mindset than someone who builds this car to actually live with it.

So the car itself is not the question here, because it’s exceptional. The only real difference is whether you treat it like a car or like an asset.

Project Auctions To Keep An Eye On

This is one of those projects that pulls you in immediately, because at first glance it looks far more complete than it really is, and that’s exactly where you need to be careful.

This 1972 Chevrolet Chevelle Malibu Sport Coupe has all the right visual cues to make you think you’re getting something close to finished. Black with white stripes, big Weld wheels, lowered stance, disc brakes, it has that presence where you could easily picture it as a weekend car you just jump into and enjoy without thinking twice.

Then you start looking past the surface and the story shifts pretty quickly. Mechanically, there’s actually a lot to like here because someone has clearly spent money in the right areas. There’s a replacement 350 V8 with some decent supporting parts, a 700-R4 transmission so it’s usable, upgraded suspension, four-wheel disc brakes, Vintage Air, Dakota Digital gauges, and receipts showing real investment. That part of the car feels thought through, like someone wanted it to drive properly and actually be used.

The problem is everything that hasn’t been done. There’s rust in all the places that matter, quarters, rockers, doors, frame, even underneath around the radiator support and tank, and that’s not the kind of stuff you casually ignore if you care about the car long term. On top of that you’ve got bubbling paint, chips, pitted chrome, and little issues like a broken hood hinge that all point to the same thing, which is that the cosmetic and structural side of this build was left unfinished.

So what you’re really looking at is a car where all the fun work has already been done and all the annoying work is still sitting there waiting for someone else. And that’s where these can go one of two ways depending on how honest you are with yourself.

If you buy it for what it is, a strong running, good looking muscle car from ten feet away that you can drive, enjoy, and not stress over, then it makes a lot of sense because the hard mechanical stuff is already sorted. If you buy it thinking you’re going to “just clean it up a bit,” that’s where you get caught, because body and paint on something like this can very quickly outweigh everything that’s already been spent.

That’s really the whole story here. It looks like a finished car, it drives like a sorted car, but it still needs the least fun part of the build, and whether that matters or not comes entirely down to what kind of owner you are.

This is a project… just not the kind you’re used to.

This pairing of a 1968 Porsche 911 S Targa (1968) and a modern Porsche 911 Targa 4S (991.2) has already had all the hard work done, just not with tools, with thinking. Someone at IDEM Works sat down and decided they weren’t going to restore a car or modify a car, they were going to build an idea, and then executed it all the way through.

Both finished in Light Ivory, both with red interiors, both carrying the same identity fifty years apart, and when you see them together it actually works. The soft window Targa has all the charm you’d expect, delicate, simple, slightly imperfect in the way early 911s always are, while the modern car brings the opposite, speed, usability, everything working exactly as it should. It’s the same concept seen through two completely different eras.

And that’s really what you’re buying here. You’re not buying a project to figure out, you’re buying someone else’s vision that’s already been figured out for you. There’s no guesswork, no decisions to make, no “what color should I go” or “how far do I take this,” it’s all been decided, packaged, and presented as a complete story.

Which is why I go back and forth on it. Because on one hand, it’s very cool. It’s cohesive, it’s different, and it’s the kind of thing that stands out instantly because most people would never take the time to do this themselves. On the other hand, part of the appeal of cars like this is making them your own, and here that part is already gone before you even get involved.

So this sits in a completely different lane. If the other cars are projects you build, this is a project you buy.

This is one of those cars where you look at it for five seconds and think “that’s cool”… and then you look a bit closer and realize what you’re actually getting into.

It’s a 1973 Mercedes-Benz 280C (W114), which already puts it ahead of most projects because it’s a pillarless coupe. Windows down, no B-pillar, that clean open look, it just has presence without trying too hard. The dark green over bamboo is exactly the kind of spec you want on something like this too, even if it’s been repainted, it still feels right.

And importantly, it runs and drives. That matters more than people admit. The fuel system has been gone through, carb rebuilt, brakes sorted, new tank, new tires, so you’re not starting from a dead car sitting in the corner of a garage. You can actually use it straight away, which changes the whole experience.

But let’s not pretend this isn’t a project, because it is. There’s rust in the rocker, the door, and around the pan and subframe, which is the kind of stuff you either live with or properly deal with, and those are two very different paths. The interior is tired in all the normal ways, cracked wood, warped plastics, nothing shocking, just age everywhere you look.

So the way I see it, this is not a restoration play and it’s not a clean driver either, it sits right in the middle. You buy this because you like it as it is, you drive it, you enjoy the whole pillarless coupe thing, and then you slowly decide how far you want to go with it. If you go in thinking you’re going to make it perfect, you’ll probably get buried. If you go in wanting something cool that you can actually use while figuring it out, then it makes a lot more sense.

This is one of those cars where the outcome depends way more on the owner than the car itself.

This is a completely different kind of project, and honestly, you need to approach it with a totally different mindset.

This 1976 MG MGB Roadster is not pretending to be anything it isn’t. It’s a proper, honest project that someone already started and then… kind of stopped halfway through, which is exactly what you’re walking into.

The good news is the heavy lifting has actually been touched. Floor pans are done, which is usually the job everyone dreads, the soft top has been replaced, and a bunch of mechanical stuff has already been sorted like brakes, cooling, clutch hydraulics. It runs and drives, which again matters way more than people think, because at least you’re not chasing a dead car while trying to rebuild everything else around it.

But it’s still very much a project, just in a more obvious way than the Mercedes.

The interior is half out, carpets missing, bits everywhere, and you’re going to be putting that whole space back together yourself. The carbs need tuning, the overdrive doesn’t work, the suspension bushings are tired, and then there’s the usual British car stuff like oil seepage and random little issues that will keep popping up whether you like it or not.

And then you’ve got the body, which is not terrible but also not clean. Rust starting at seams, bubbles, little cracks, nothing catastrophic from what’s shown, but enough where you’re not ignoring it either.

So what is this really? This is not a “hop in and enjoy” car like the Benz kind of pretends to be. This is more hands-on from day one. You’re either into the idea of tinkering, fixing, learning as you go, or you’re going to hate it within a week.

The flip side is, this is way simpler. These cars are basic, parts are available, nothing here is overly complicated, and you can actually make progress on something like this without it turning into a full financial spiral. That’s the appeal. It’s the kind of car where you can actually see the improvement as you go instead of just throwing money at it and hoping for the best.

So if the Mercedes is that “in between” project that can lull you into a false sense of ease, this is the opposite. This one is honest about the work, and because of that, it might actually be the safer bet if you know what you’re getting into.