A one-of-a-kind guide for the upwardly mobile car lover.

Buying a classic sports car is something I’ve fantasized about forever. Like a lot of my bright ideas, this one remains firmly in the fantasy context. Still, the sense that such a purchase would make me a much cooler human being lingers and before you know it I’m on Craigslist again searching for—well, that’s the real problem.

Should the car of my dreams be a piece of automotive history or just a sweet ride for those weekend jaunts to the wine country? Will it speak Italian, German, English, Japanese, or French? (Okay, maybe not French.) Or is a rock-solid piece of Detroit iron what I really have in mind? It can get a little overwhelming.

Seeing as my last “classic” car was a 1979 Datsun 210 coupe, a mechanically sound little trouper with exterior and interior issues that was euthanized by California’s clunker buy-back program last year, I’m a little out of my league when it comes to mingling with the Concours d’Elegance set. (Although I do make a mean cucumber sandwich.)

Fabled Ferrari: Fabricated in 1954, this 500 Mondial Spyder is rumored to be the only completely original example of the 12-car series surviving today. Photo courtesy Blackhawk Museum.

So it’s clear that I will require a reliable guide on my exotic journey into the bowels of the East Bay’s classic sports car subculture—someone like, say, vintage sports car blogger Tito Young, a friend of a friend who cheerfully agrees to show me some top-notch haunts. As evidenced by his ownership of a 1969 Porsche 911T soft-window Targa in stunning fireball orange-red, Young is the real deal—a hardcore auto enthusiast with a keen eye toward Porsche and Alfa Romeo collectibles. As for the Targa, his unabashed pride and joy, it’s one of only 12 in the entire known universe. “God forbid I get into an accident,” he says. Indeed. God, and Allstate.

I meet up with the jovial Young—he’s also, it turns out, a self-described visionary and art impresario—at his Emeryville condo, where he introduces me to his equally friendly pint-sized mutt Speedy, and suggests that the canine join us in our quixotic quest. But, of course.

Reflected beauty: The Rolls-Royce of Rolls-Royces (this baby’s from 1954). Photo courtesy Blackhawk Museum.

Dream on

Our first stop on the tour de East Bay is, appropriately, one of the country’s premier dealers of the classic sports car, the aptly named Fantasy Junction in Emeryville.

Unlike the car lots along Oakland’s Auto Row on Broadway with their screaming neon signs beckoning drivers to glassed-in showrooms, Fantasy Junction is a pretty understated affair. Housed in an ordinary brick building on Park Avenue, it’s easy to miss but worth the effort to find.

Inside, every square inch of the place is devoted to le car. As we enter, my eye wanders to a Ford Mustang Shelby all done up in British racing green, but Young steers me away. “That’s crap, man,” he says amiably, and suggests that instead I take in the ambiance of the red 1954 Maserati A6GCS going for $1,850,000. We continue to ogle and, because Speedy’s a regular, an employee magically appears with dog treats.

Italian spinoff: This 1966 Bizzarrini P538 Spyder prototype was designed by the creator of the Ferrari GTO. Photo courtesy Blackhawk Museum.

Soon Bruce Trenery, who started Fantasy Junction 35 years ago in West Berkeley, approaches. A kindly, knowledgeable gatekeeper of well-oiled car fantasies, he comes by the role naturally. As a child growing up in Kensington, he greatly admired the European cars his Cal faculty neighbors brought back to the States from trips abroad. In fact, the plucky lad was always angling to get his hands on one. Once, back in 1964, he almost struck pay dirt, when the owner of an iconic 1955 Mercedes Gullwing—a car with doors that famously opened skyward, not sideways as God intended—agreed to let go of the coveted ride. His price: a mere $2,500. But Trenery couldn’t convince his mom to loan him the money. Women. Sigh.

An astute observer, Trenery senses that I’m a little intimidated amidst the auto refinement all around me. To put me at ease, he fills me in on what the average human in full midlife crisis needs to know about buying a classic sports car. It’s pretty simple, he says: Either you’re buying a sexy set of wheels for fun, or you’re making an investment. And since the vast majority of mortals aren’t actually shelling out the bucks to improve their financial health, there’s no need for them—or you—to soft-pedal a shallow attraction to speed and style. Let the good times roll.

The Alfa Spider, Porsche 911, or early British sports car such as an MG—all of these, says Trenery, are excellent starter vehicles for classic car lovers of modest means. One caveat, though—restoration is pricey, so it’s smart to buy “the best one you can find” in original condition. Of course, choosing an experienced, unrestored classic may mean having to put up with some imperfections, but no worries, says Mr. Fantasy: “Door dings don’t affect enjoyment.” Nor, apparently, should any additional character patina that your classic may acquire during your custodianship. “It’s like a bouquet of flowers,” he explains. “It’s not going to stay that way forever.” (Personally, I would hope my Fiat lasted a bit longer than a fistful of Gerber daisies—but maybe that’s just me.)

Door dings notwithstanding, Fantasy Junction had its third best year ever in 2011—not exactly, as you may recall, a banner year for the American economy. Trenery attributes the healthy cash flow to investors who, wary of ongoing volatility in the stock and bond markets, hope to make scratch in the classic sports car game instead.

“Look for cars that excite you as opposed to ones that are just a good deal,” he suggests as we saunter toward the door. Heading to our next stop, I muse that what really gets my motor running is a 1974 Toyota Corolla two-door with a working original in-dash AM radio. But we’ll get to that little fantasy later.

Under high-class hoods

Assuming you’ve popped into Fantasy Junction on a whim and decided to plunk down your hard-earned cash on a vintage Aston Martin convertible, where, pray tell, are you going to take it for servicing? Certainly not Pep Boys. That will not do.

One option for locals is the eponymous Laurence Anderson Company in industrial West Berkeley. Despite not having procured the aforementioned Aston Martin, I hop back into the Porsche, and my driver makes a beeline to the discreet auto lair.

In keeping with proprietor Anderson’s very, very low-key business model, signage is at a bare minimum, consisting of only a shingle above the front door. He’s got all the clients he can handle, explains Anderson—attired today in a mechanic’s issue blue short-sleeve jumpsuit—so he’s keen on keeping a low profile. “Working for the tenth of the one percent is great,” he says, grinning. And indeed, before consenting to be included in this piece he stipulates that neither his address nor phone number be included.

Despite the stringent preconditions, though, Anderson is happy to give us a tour of his book-lined garage. As Mahler’s 9th Symphony exudes from the perfectly balanced speakers hidden in the bookshelves, I consider lighting up a Cohiba and having a little glass of Madeira, but manage to stifle the impulse. Meanwhile, Anderson waxes eloquent about the “intensely satisfying” experience of driving the right car. And this is a man who should know. Among the vehicles on display: his daily driver, a 1957 Alfa Romeo Giulietta (“Little Julia”) coupe; an Aston Martin purchased at Fantasy Junction that he’s fixing up for a Mexican opera singer; and the late San Francisco Chronicle cartoonist Phil Frank’s right-hand drive MG two-seater, headed to a new home on the East Coast after a little going-over on the premises.

Like a lot of classic sports car mechanics, Anderson is a bit of a creative genius—almost a job requirement, it seems, as parts are no longer available for many of the ageless wonders he sees. “You can’t even go to a flea market” for them, he says. Case in point: Anderson’s first car, a wooden-frame 1956 Morgan. Since parts for the car’s transmission are impossible to obtain, Anderson makes them from scratch with machines in his shop, a process he describes as “working on a 3-D jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces.”

Ferrari me

Very close to Anderson’s shop on what he refers to as “boutique auto row” is our local Ferrari repair specialist, the Patrick Ottis Company. Feeling a little boutiquey ourselves, we decide to poke our heads in. Ottis and his crew only work on the mechanical aspects of the truly exquisite line that is Italy’s vehicular claim to fame. While they prefer to toil on specimens of these fire-breathing beasts from the ’50s and ’60s, Ottis et al. will also service later models if called upon to do so.

Throughout the shop repose Ferraris in various tantalizing states of repair as, again, the sweet strains of something classical embrace our ears—it sounds like Bach’s Cello Suite No. 2 in D minor, but I could be wrong. I’m just glad it is classical. I mean, if you’re going to pay Ferrari prices you don’t want the guy doing the brakes rocking out to the Eagles. “Welcome to the Hotel California” is not the tone we’re looking for here.

The Ottis Company primarily overhauls engines, says longtime mechanic David McCarthy. As we gaze at the Ferrari motor he’s working on—it’s worth $50,000, he says—it dawns on me that the engine alone costs almost as much as an entire 1995 Ferrari 456 GT at Fantasy Junction going for a paltry $52,500. Either one, however, is a little out of my range at the moment.

McCarthy, who refers to the world-famous Ferrari as “the Coca-Cola” of supercars (sorry, Cadillac), doesn’t make any bones about the make being within reach only for a very exclusive group of high rollers. “Don’t expect to find any bargain Ferraris on Craigslist or eBay,” he warns. Okay, good to know. I’ll stop looking.

Ottis and his minions become mere specs in the Porsche’s rearview, and I begin to brood that I’ll probably never even sit in a Ferrari—much less own one. As this sad epiphany sinks in, Young attempts to raise my spirits by suggesting we do what any self-respecting 99-percenter who wants to come off like a sexy European racecar driver would do. In other words, we are going to pay a visit to the Ferrari Store in downtown San Francisco. Where, by the way, they don’t sell Ferraris.

Flanked by electric, two-pedal Ferrari go-karts, the entrance to the store on Stockton between Market and Union Square is hard to miss. Once inside, an unrelenting disco beat overcomes me as I ogle jerseys, caps, pencils ($24!), ties, belts, watches, and bikes ranging from a training-wheeled kids’ version to an adult mountain bike ($3,980). There’s even a baby stroller ($929) that “ironically, you still have to push,” offers a salesman. Yes, that is ironic. Thanks for putting it in context.

By far the most unique offering is the company’s own Black Eau de Toilette ($59)—apparently it’s très chic to smell like a Ferrari. Staff is even passing out vouchers for a free spritzing. However, having applied my daily dose of Speed Stick this morning, I decline.

Curious and, okay, skeptical, I ask a highly energetic sales guy the obvious question: Just what is this store’s mission—to empower non-Ferrari owners who want to give the impression that they do, in fact, own the supercar of supercars? “It’s just about loving your brand. End of story,” he replies, seeming a little hurt that I would even ask. “It’s like supporting a team, like the Raiders or the Giants.”

Alfa males and more

No question about it, Ferraris are sexy, but I suppose owning one is a little like dating (or even marrying) Kim Kardashian—it could get expensive. Enter the regular guy’s more affordable Italian sports car: the venerable Alfa Romeo.

In Berkeley, the Alfa go-to guy is Glenn Oliveria of Oliveria Engineering, a garage and hangout on Channing Way in West Berkeley, just around the corner from the old Brennan’s bar. A testament to his regular dude status, Oliveria’s personal rig—an almost pristine, blue 1949 Oldsmobile Delta 88—is the first thing we see as we enter the shop. Not only that, Stevie Wonder’s coming through on the sound system. But despite the Eliot Ness–era Olds, Oliveria’s an Alfa man through and through. He’ll even inspect one you intend to purchase for a fee ranging from free to $200. “The better-looking the car, the more it costs,” he says.

As we poke around his shop, longtime customers stop by to chew the fat. One of them, Bill Villet, who manages to live in both Piedmont and Malaysia, tells us how Oliveria tracked down the correct rims for his 1974 Alfa GTV. “He’s always helped me,” says Villet, the satisfied owner of eight cars.

Sliding back into Young’s Porsche, Speedy decides that my lap is far better than the back seat. For the moment, at least, he’s got everything he wants. As for me, I find myself muttering that it’s fun to flirt with fancy Italian cars, but sometimes less is more. My ever-perceptive guide immediately catches my drift and points his steed in the direction of the tuner-head paradise known as Performance Options.

An outpost just under the elevated tracks leading to the West Oakland BART station, Performance Options caters to fans of “The Fast and the Furious” movies, a series devoted to the exploits of Japanese car enthusiasts. And, as luck would have it, it just so happens that Japan’s lowly econo-boxes from the ’70s, featuring rear-wheel drive setups, have morphed themselves right into vogue. The allure, it seems, is the way that rear-wheel drive allows the cars to “drift” or swing out from the back end while going through turns—a spectacle that showcases the driver’s daring and skill.

As we enter, one of the employees warns Young that Speedy might look like lunch to one of the hardcore West Oakland alley cats that inhabit the back lot, but Speedy isn’t the least bit fazed. I put on my best game face, too.

To optimize the drifting thrills, Performance Options will take a modern, fuel-injected engine from the likes of a latter-day Honda S2000 sports coupe and somehow stuff it into an orange 1974 Toyota Corolla two-door. Can you say “instant sports car”? Even if you have zero interest in drifting it, for only about $9,000 plus the cost of the car you have got one awesome ride. All you need are a pair of skinny jeans and a hoodie.

Another benefit of putting modern engines in older cars is that they’ll easily pass smog inspection—something old-school carbureted engines can have a hard time with. Remember, though, that 1975 and older cars do not have to pass California’s emissions test to be registered.

As we head out from Performance Options to our next stop, I can’t help but seriously reconsider the potential of the old Datsun 210. I mean, it had rear-wheel drive and pop-out back windows. And I’m almost as bald and certainly as good-looking as Vin Diesel. What the hell was I thinking?

The Germanator

Aa far as I can tell, German manufacturers are incapable of building anything to less than exacting standards. It makes me salivate just to imagine holding a finely crafted German pencil in my paw. And for certain automotive aficionados, such as my trusty guide, the Porsche pedigree—or any other marque from the Rhineland, come to think of it—is hard to top.

Is it possible that Porsches are too well-made for my pedestrian automotive appetites? Well, yes, it is. Nonetheless, I find myself accompanying Young and Speedy to our last stop: A. Bauer Repair on the northern edge of downtown Oakland, where they specialize in all things Porsche except paint.

“Get in bed with a good mechanic, it’s a requirement,” commands owner Chris Lanzatella (why was I expecting a Günther?), a man who is all about the maintenance. “My customers treat their classic sports cars better than they treat their children,” he elaborates. “Obviously, they spend more money on them—I mean more than they do on their pediatricians.”

Good buys for low-budget Porsche lovers include the 944 Turbo, and the 968 from 1983 to 1995, in Lanzatella’s opinion. But be prepared, he says, to put up with non-factory carpets or a cracked and faded dashboard. “I’m over perfect,” he says. “If you want it to be perfect, it’s going to cost.”

Does your taste in German cars also include the BMW, the Mini (yes, Virginia, that iconic get-about sporting a rooftop Union Jack decal is now made by BMW), or the Audi? Then you’ll want to file Moran Motosport in your Rolodex. (Wait—does anyone but me still use a Rolodex?) Not only does the West Berkeley shop shore up standard items like engines and transmissions, they also repair the cool stuff—the sunroof, the sound system, and so on—that made you fall in love with the car in the first place. There’s a rumor they’ll even empty the gum wrappers out of your ashtray. And, when you’re ready to move on to your next life-affirming car purchase, they’ll recondition your ride and sell it, to boot. Talk about cradle-to-grave car service.

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Paul Kilduff is the force of nature behind the immensely popular Monthly Q&A column and podcast, “The Kilduff File.” He currently finds himself attracted to a gently used Lamborghini, but may opt for a 1982 Toyota Tercel in need of some minor TLC.

Where the Cars Are
A. Bauer Repair, 444 23rd St., Oakland, (510) 834-2772; bauerporscherepair.com.
Blackhawk Museum, 3700 Blackhawk Plaza Circle, Danville, (925) 736-2277; blackhawkmuseum.org.
Alternators Unlimited, 1464 San Pablo Ave., Berkeley, (510) 527-7773.
Auto Europa, 1522 Bush St., San Francisco, (415) 882-9970; autoeuropa-sf.com.
Club Sportiva, 521 Charcot Ave., Ste. 203, San Jose, (866) 719-1600; clubsportiva.com.
Easy, 4060 Harlan St., Emeryville, (510) 653-3279; easypor.com.
Elephant Racing, 625 Nuttman St., Santa Clara, (408) 297-2789; elephantracing.com.
Fantasy Junction, 1145 Park Ave., Emeryville, (510) 653-7555; fantasyjunction.com.
Ferrari Store, 2 Stockton St., San Francisco, (415) 834-9200; ferraristore.com.
Fuel Injection Corporation, 2407 Research Drive, Livermore, (925) 371-6551; fuelinjectioncorp.com.
Griffin Motorwerke, 1146 6th St., Berkeley, (510) 524-7447; g-werke.com.
Hanzel Auto Body Works, 456 23rd St., Oakland, (510) 451-1889.
Hooked on Driving, 9000 Crow Canyon Road, Ste. S 225, Danville, (925) 552-8112; hookedondriving.com.
Infineon Raceway, 29355 Arnold Drive, Sonoma, (707) 938-8448; infineonraceway.com.
Moran Motosport, 751 Folger Ave., Berkeley, (510) 548-7171; moranmotosport.com.
Napa Auto Parts-KKR Inc., 701 66th Ave., Oakland, (510) 569-8034; napaonline.com.
Oliveria Engineering, 734 Channing Way, Berkeley, (510) 849-3384.
Palo Alto Speedometer, 718 Emerson St., Palo Alto, (650) 323-0243; paspeedo.com.
Panel Craft, 2828 San Pablo Ave., Berkeley, (510) 548-0815.
Parts Heaven, 23694 Bernhardt St., Hayward, (510) 782-0354; partsheaven.com.
Patrick Ottis Company, 1220 Tenth St., Berkeley, (510) 849-3553.
Performance Options, 1009 7th St., Oakland, (510) 272-9869; performanceoptions.net.
Remus Sportexhaust-MaxMoto, 1365 63rd St., Emeryville, (510) 595-3300.
Rouse Tire Service, 2340 Harrison St., Oakland, (510) 834-9938; rousetire.com.
Uptown Body and Fender, 401 26th St., Oakland, (510) 251-8009; uptownbody.com.
Tito Young’s Studio Rezz Design, (510) 420-0350; studiorezz.com.
Wiedman’s Wheels, 1675 Wyandotte Ave., Oroville, (530) 534-7903.
Zentrum Motors, 1225B 7th St., Oakland, (510) 451-4958; zentrummotors.com.