A Free Car, 2000 Miles and My Teenage Sons

Words & Photos David Vespremi

A father and his sons bring an abandoned BMW E30 back to life, then put their work to the test on a 2,000-mile road trip 

I had owned and built two BMW E30s, including a pristine white 1989 325i that I reluctantly sold to help fund the down payment on our house. Not long afterward, a friend offered me another white ’89—for free. It was a former Spec E30 race car that had been sitting in his mother’s driveway for roughly a decade and was otherwise headed to the salvage yard. With my son Liam approaching 16, we decided it would become his first car, with one condition: he would have to bring it back to life. 

I had the car delivered to a friend’s Porsche shop in Santa Clara, California.. It arrived looking every bit a barn find: four flat tires, one seized brake caliper, and a thick coat of dirt from ten years spent outdoors. It had “ran when parked” written all over it—but it wasn’t running now. Once I chased away the spiders that had made it their home, I found a remarkably solid car: no rust or accident damage, plus all the right bits, including an expensive suspension update, a five-speed conversion, and a limited-slip differential. It had been sourced with help from Jason Cammissa of Motor Trend and Hagerty fame. This was a car that had been loved—and would be loved again.

We took Liam on a “your life so far” tour of the Bay Area, stopping at the hospital where he was born and the schools he’d attended. As we headed south toward Santa Clara, we stopped for lunch a few blocks from the shop, where the car waited with a giant red bow on the hood. Liam recognized the neighborhood and may have thought we were headed to the shop where he and his younger brother, Isaac, 13, had worked their first summer jobs.

When we pulled up nose-to-nose with the E30, giant red bow notwithstanding, Liam walked right past it, then discovered the shop was closed for the weekend. I had to ask what he thought of the car out front before it clicked. He couldn’t believe it was for him.

“Wow. Is this really mine? When it had the bow on, I thought it was for someone else. It just didn’t register for me. I couldn’t believe it was mine.” - Liam

A Crash Course in Resurrecting a Car 

Liam had always been technically minded, but not necessarily a car guy. He’d been fixing things around the house since he was little. Isaac, though younger, already knew how cool the E30 was—he got props from the teenage instructors when we dropped him off at surf camp in my old E30—so the two of them quickly realized it was something special they could tackle together. 

Now we needed ground rules. Liam and Isaac would make the car roadworthy and source parts on a shoestring budget, supplemented by selling things they didn’t need, like the roll bar and trunk spares. I’d introduce them to the E30 community; the wheeling and dealing was theirs. 

They also needed a deadline. Together, we agreed the car’s (incredibly ambitious) maiden voyage would be a roughly 2,000-mile round trip from our house on the coast just south of San Francisco to San Juan Island, at the northernmost tip of Washington State, where we planned to go whale watching. They roped in their fellow shop helper, 18-year-old Charles, who already owned an E36, as their mentor and set to work. 

Give Three Teenagers a Deadline 

With the trip confirmed and dates locked in, the boys began by figuring out what it would take to get the engine running again. They traced the problem to a dead battery and a rusted fuel system, caused by old gas left in the tank. They replaced the fuel pump and filter, swapped in a new fuel tank and battery, and—against all odds—the car fired right up and idled beautifully. Within days, it passed smog on the first try and was registered and insured. 

In the weeks that followed, they divided and conquered. Liam handled the trickier mechanical work, including the timing belt, tune-up, and brakes, with oversight and support from Charles. Isaac, ever the style-conscious kid, handled the aesthetics, painting the rims and mirror caps and installing front and rear strut braces. 

“The part of the project that stood out most to me was spray-painting the wheels using playing cards. It was really engaging, and it was fun working with everybody along the way,” Isaac added. 

The old folks got in on the action too. My friend Jason and I helped polish the faded white paint back to a beautiful shine. Bill, who had recently injured his shoulder and had limited mobility, provided advice and guidance—and a garage to work in at his house.

After a final wrenching session that lasted until 3 or 4 a.m. on the day of departure, we were ready to go—with more than a few mystery nuts and bolts still on the ground, and plenty of excitement and anticipation. There was just one small hitch: Liam couldn’t yet drive a manual. We’d have to tackle that on the road… 

“What really stuck with me was when we put in the final bolt for the exhaust system, started the engine, and I heard it come to life for the first time. The power of this machine. This was my Pygmalion creation.”-- Liam 

The 2,000-mile Shakedown 

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a spare bag of bolts—and it turned out we’d need a few. I drove the first shift, and we made our way to Point Reyes for oysters. The drive was breathtaking as we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge and wound along the coast. The E30 was a joy through the tight corners and sweepers, visceral and analog in the best way—until it became too visceral and analog. The vibration grew as we approached lunch. At first, we thought we’d thrown a wheel weight. As would become our M.O., we pulled into a tire shop just before closing and had the balance checked. The E30’s tires got a clean bill of health, so we headed back out toward the Avenue of the Giants, our stop for the night. 

After a night under the towering redwoods and a photo op driving through one, the vibration returned with a vengeance. Liam and Isaac found a classic-car shop in Eureka, about an hour away, willing to take a look despite being booked two weeks out. The guys wondered whether the engine had been “breathed on” because the E30 was quicker than they expected. It pulled like a freight train, they said, but shook like one too. The diagnosis was a few missing bolts in the driveshaft’s rubber guibo, and in less than an hour we were back on the road. 

The next leg took us through the vast forests along the Oregon coast, with hours-long stretches without cell service—talk about a vote of confidence in child labor. Liam napped in the back seat while Isaac and I imagined the serial killers, aliens, and sasquatch that might take us out if we broke down. And break down we did, sort of. As the sun fell on the second full day of our journey, a terrible grinding noise came from the driver’s-side front wheel. Once we had a signal, the boys found a shop in a little Oregon town, but it had closed for the weekend by the time we arrived. They found another shop about 40 minutes away; by then, the car wouldn’t move in reverse. Rather than wait for a tow truck, we never backed up and pressed on along towering cliffs, though the grinding grew increasingly disconcerting. We arrived just as they were pulling down the shop door. They kindly squeezed us in despite our late arrival and found that the front brake caliper had left the chat, dangling by its brake line inside the wheel. It was jamming against the rim, which explained why the car wouldn’t reverse. Yikes. They replaced the bolts (remember the miscellaneous bag of bolts?), and within minutes we were back on the road.

We had a few more “what’s that noise?” or “what’s that smell?” moments, sometimes the car, sometimes burrito lunch, but the E30 made it to the San Juan Island ferry under its own power. 

We spent a lovely few days with friends, recovering from the trip. Liam used the time to finally learn to drive a stick shift properly on the island. The orcas, as apex predators, were humbling, and we were thrilled to see them up close. Our 1,000-mile trip back was trouble-free, though we regretted not fixing the A/C as we boiled through the Central Valley. We made it home under our own power, clothes drenched in sweat. 

What the Journey was Really About 

Looking back, the trip became about much more than proving we’d successfully rebuilt an old BMW. Liam and Isaac learned how to divide the work, budget, improvise, ask for help, and solve problems together. With Liam now preparing for college and the boys unlikely to live under the same roof much longer, I’m particularly grateful we took it on when we did. 

The final payoff came when the E30 was displayed on the lawn at Radwood San Jose, where the boys got to tell people about the car they’d built and the journey they’d just completed. Liam is now preparing to hand the car down to Isaac, who earned his turn behind the wheel through all the work he put into bringing it back. 

“I’m looking forward to having the keys passed down to me.” - Isaac 

As for me, I finally got to pass the “car guy” torch to my sons. I couldn’t be prouder. 

“This was a once-in-a-lifetime journey that I’ll never forget, and I’d like to do it with my own kids one day.” - Liam