Wow, those are rare! There were only a few built!

__________________
hum.....
1987 300TD 311,000M Stolen. Presumed destroyed

Hi all,

I know many of you are following Miguel's progress across the country so I thought I would give a brief update. I haven't posted much on this forum but have been reading since 08' when I purchased my first Mercedes. I have since moved on to an 85' 300D that resides with me here in Decatur, Texas. I met up with Miguel just outside Fort Worth last night in Rhome so he could follow me to the place that a friend of mine graciously provided for him at a ranch. The wagon died on him after he left Alan's (Panzer) and some quick diagnosis this morning revealed the battery was toast.

Rather than purchasing a battery here in Decatur, Miguel opted for a factory battery from the dealership (actually only $4 more) in Fort Worth. It actually works out better since I have some work that I need to get done this afternoon and by the time he gets back we will head to a junkyard that Panzer suggested that is close.

Many of you already knew this but he is gracious and clearly has a good head on his shoulders. I have enjoyed our brief time together and hope we can find some rare parts for the wagon.

- Jody

A Mercedes OM617 runs without any help from the battery.....

I assume you mean it wouldn't start ? if it died , there's yet another problem .

__________________
-Nate
1982 240D 408,XXX miles
Ignorance is the mother of suspicion and fear is the father

I did then what I knew how to do ~ now that I know better I do better

Sorry, yes it wouldn't start after he shut it off for a fill up.

BT , DT , it was 200 miles from home and 112° F out.... I got a jumpstart and drove here & there until I found the proper battery & changed it in their parking lot against the Manager's orders , I told him to see if the chickenshyte Cops would show up to arrest me before I was finished & gone away.... .

The Euro bumper looks nice .

__________________
-Nate
1982 240D 408,XXX miles
Ignorance is the mother of suspicion and fear is the father

I did then what I knew how to do ~ now that I know better I do better

Day 12: Ridin' along in my Automobile (listen to today's theme)
That morning I woke up in a sticky stove, much like in that introduction to Apocalypse Now, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling and cursing the humidity in the air. I stepped out of my aluminum submarine, and knocked on Panzzer's door, who quickly got ready to check the forum in the local library, a neat little space in a government building surrounded by what we call the Martha Stuart People, the crowds who idolize the Toyota Prius and shop at Banana Republic. My goodness, I am getting more and more judgmental by the day!

The rest of the day we spent in a couple junkyards looking for a front set of the much coveted W123 Euro bumpers, distinctive for not protruding boldly out of the car as the US DOT wants. After scavenging a few very good parts into a complete set ($54!), we headed for Taco Bueno, a fast food taqueria in the lines of Taco Bell but without feeling grossed out by their tortilla crud. Pretty okay, and very well priced (89c each!).

I put my European bumper, right how it should have looked like in the first place, and stared proudly and the shaved lips of Newport. Chic. We headed back to the library, and, after scrambling with eBay's new listing layout for a few parts here and there, we said goodbye. Dear Panzzer, thank you for showing me all those gems, and getting me in the way for more. And for taking my preconceptions about Taco Bueno by having me try it for the very first time.

All proud of my new looks, I pull into a gas station, refuel and check the oil. I crank the car, and, after a couple very slow turns, the car does not start. The battery, most likely. Darn. I ask every single person in the gas station for a set of jumper cables (I must have misplaced mine while working on the hatch a few months ago), and, after five or six failed attempts, a very courteous young man took me to Lowe's in his Silverado for a set. To this anonymous sir I will be eternally thankful.

All roads lead to Rhome. To their Exxon station, exactly, where I met Jody (doublejody), a true Texan gentleman who not only invited me to a true midnight Texan dish, Whataburger –with elements of his own nostalgia about how he worked for the chain in his teens–; but also ushered me to an authentic Texan ranch used for horse training, where I stayed in one of their bunkhouse rooms, a true, air-conditioned delight.

Before going to bed I spent a good ten minutes scratching myself, especially my ankles, on which the local mosquitoes had had a feast.


This is the library from which I wrote earlier. A very, very neat space.


These people hold music sessions to encourage the kids to read. How cool!


My room lamp. This will be me in a few days, right on Monument Valley.


Whataburger, a dinner worthy of a King.

Day 13: Spanish Cowboy in the Junkyard (listen to today's theme)
There is nothing like a cold shower when half of your body is itchy and swollen. So far, I have been bitten by mosquitoes, ivy plants and fire ants. I really hope I can exclude scorpions, snakes and spiders from this list.

The first thing Jody and I did that morning did was to grab my battery and head on to Decatur. We had breakfast in a small, quaint diner in an old gas station made out of petrified wood. Then, we drove downtown, home to the town's beautiful granite courthouse, a solitary, gorgeous architectural landmark in the plains of North Texas. Decatur is about an hour away from Fort Worth, and it boasts the lost essence of small town America with the vitality and optimism of a young kid. Jody showed me his office in a 1930s post office, much of which has been restored to preserve the original details. Simple, yet immensely tasteful.

We tested the battery, which was flat, and out of concern, we took a look at the alternator for good measure, but we failed to inspect it due to a ridiculously inaccessible screw. We resolved to part momentarily: Jody to work, and Newport to a doctor. My first stop was the overly luxurious Mercedes Dealership in Bedford, TX, where I bought an OEM battery for $4 more than an aftermarket one. Feels good to know Mercedes is aware that people still love this cars.

Much to my surprise, I found a reputable indy mechanic (Zim's Autotechnik) next to the dealership, where in 2.5 hours got my charging issue, battery and cluster light issues resolved at half the price. The people there were very friendly –the secretary himself owns a 300D– and offered me sodas in several occasions while I waited.

Back on Route 287 North, I headed where Jody had gone, a mysterious junkyard owned by a jolly, talkative man. Many of the cars have been pray to rust or bad pullers, or were mostly empty; however, despite not being able to get a nice Euro bumper for Jody, we reaped a few hubcaps, a W114 headlight, a few pictures and great memories.

Jody and I then drove to McDonald's and yes, ladies and gentlemen, I ate there. Ten piece nuggets with BBQ sauce. To repent for my sin, I accompanied Jody's family to church, were we sang some soulful hymns and listened to a rather energetic and humorous pastor. All was good.

A quick note aside, I am surprised how much more interactive churches are in America, and how much more they accommodate to their parishioners. That, and the fact that today's pastor was a married man.

Back in the ranch, and back in McDonald's, I write to you, dear world. I am impressed about the rising popularity of this topic, and my identical travelogue on blogspot. Thank you all for your loyal following, and for making me feel like a rockstar –despite YOU being the ones who rock.

Now, tomorrow will be the day I will lock the route westward. Wish me (and poor Newport) luck in this long, PeachParts-less stretch.


I woke up this morning and I felt like a true cowboy.


The expansive and modern installations in the ranch.


Yet another landscape to die for.


Please don't bite me. I had enough.


This gas station left me... petrified. YEAAAAAH.


Decatur courthouse, made out of SOLID granite.


Justice has, and will take place here. Taking a break right now.


The local museum, another stunning stone mansion.


I stared at these for a long, long time.


Cursing like a trucker on the highway.


The road to beautiful Decatur.


...yet another adventure starts.


Hmmm... I wonder what I can find here...


...wow!


...and yet more WOW!


Follow that Silverado to... INFINITY!

__________________
[GONE] - 1995 Mercedes E300 Diesel - 130k miles - Smoke Silver (702) over Mushroom leather (265) - Bladder blasting, coast-to-coast work machine.

Glad to see the hospitality being offered to you accross America via PeachParts Miguel. You need to put an ebook together on this experience. Title it "Mercedes Benz accross America".

One of my favorite pastimes is to ramble around the pull a parts seeing how different cars were designed and built. I don't mess around in anything but the import and truck sections.

Glad to see everything is going well with your travels.

__________________
Jim

And for future reference, you can tow start that flavor of 722 transmission.

__________________
Never a dull moment at Berry Hill Farm.

Miguel you forgot to mention who tipped you and Doublejody about barclays salvage, I was amazed he had never even heard of it and grew up in Decatur, I have been going there since the mid ninties. They got a little of everything, even two of the micro honda's from when the brand first showed up in America. Those pics show a few things I didn't recognise, and the owner is James-jolley is his hired second hand
~~~~X~~~~X That is Barclays, you went wandering around on the east side of the 120 acres~~~~X~~~~X~~~~, Did you get the last good bumper trim piece you needed from the car I pointed you to on google satellite?

Miguel has already posted some pics of his visit to Decatur but I thought I would post a few of my own.

Miguel's trusty wagon with trailer in tow

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Miguel leaving the ranch

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Ready for the Texas heat!

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Bonus Pic of my one family owned 85' 300D

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Oh, no, I did! Promise!

Other than that, yes, I found the trim piece, but it was cracked too. Oh, well, I am not going to break a sweat in a long time about a 30-year-old piece of rubber...

Day 14: Lots of Nothing (listen to today's theme)
In Texas, people's hearts are the size of the land. For this entry I would like to thank Jody once again, and David R. Ishlam, owner of the NRS Ranch in Decatur, the place where I was allowed to stay and rest.

Much like the previous morning, I took a good shower and packed back the luggage, taking a look at the outside lamp with the silhouette of a cowboy lassoing cattle, frozen in time, in Monument Valley. I will be there soon, I though to myself. With my worthy steed.

Newport started up fine, and, towing the lil' Scotty behind me, I drove to the Decatur Tourism Office to see Jody once again. We headed to the local bank to get some cash –Jody owed me $54 I lent him in the junkyard, and I had to cash a check for my apartment's sublet rent. Out in the parking lot, we took some final shots of the two cars, shook hands and departed with an air of containment and destiny.

Before getting in the highway, I made a quick stop at the local pharmacy. Maybe I have not mentioned this before, but I had been bit so many times by so many things (mosquitoes, fire ants, poison ivy), I was starting to have a hard time concentrating on anything else but the intense itching in my ankles and feet. Here's a rather graphic photo for you to see what I am talking about; do not check it if you are faint of heart. A quick spray of some mysterious solution cured the problem.

A quick, $3.65-a-gallon refuel (yeah!) and the road became my home once again. Halfway towards Amarillo, my A/C began blowing very hot, so I pulled into a picnic area to check the fuse. Blown. In the meanwhile, a sympathetic, 4'11 Mexican trucker had come to offer help. I was fine, as long as the car kept running. Some electrical problem was beginning to become the vein of my existence, again.

Amarillo is surrounded by lots of truck stops of bright, screaming colors. The land becomes flat and desolate, with some bushes here and there. Probably not the best place for a breakdown in the heat of Summer.

Much to my disappointment, the Taqueria popular, a little hole-in-the-wall butchershop and restaurant, had gone out of business. This is what I wrote about it on Yelp! a few months after trying their food:

"Let me tell you a little secret. Deep in the outskirts of this dinky, deserted town called Amarillo, two exhausted travelers found glorious solace. The Taqueria Popular can pride itself on two things. The first one is that it has its own butcher shop, so the meat in your dishes is guaranteed to be absolutely fresh and well marinated/spiced. The other thing is that it has the best tacos I have ever had in my life, which is a strange thing having visited Mexico three or four times.

Do not expect any degree of fanciness, at all. You should go somewhere else if you are looking for ambient music that is not a beat-up radio, decor that is not brushed steel and plastic chairs, and lighting that is not fluorescent. Sit down on one of those worn, cracked stools at the bar and prepared to be marveled. This is authenticity, this is the bare nuts and bolts of good, honest, blue-collar cooking. Serving food for people who are not in a date, or "exploring the area", or trying things for the sake of spending the money to try things, but for simple, plain, hunger's sake.

My personal recommendation is the following: regardless whether it is a taco or a burrito, go for carne asada or "al pastor". A true delight, which, in the company of ice cold horchata, makes for deep soul awakening.

Almost a year after I stopped there in the middle of a road trip, I still remember and miss that meat. Blame the circumstances, blame the scorching heat of the desert or blame my eternal craving for beef... for $7 a piece, I really cannot imagine a more flavorful, unexpected Nirvana."

May its secret rest in peace. Some things have to be tried only once for its memory to be eternal and everlasting. This be one of those memories.

Five hours to Albuquerque, munching on Woody's Beef Jerky and guzzling can after can of Peach Ice tea, with no A/C. At some point, all electrical systems in the car stop working. No lights, no wipers, no cluster. Nothing in the car, but me, my stuff and the clatter of diesel ahead; smooth as always. I am not worried about the engine temperature, as much of the cooling system had been upgraded; right now the biggest concern is time, and when I would get pulled over for my non-existent headlights and/or side markers. It was time to act, and act quick.

By sunset, I should find a place that is frequently trafficked by cars, so I can get a quick jump and get the alternator looked at. However, in a city I do not know that well, it should be a place that is not sketchy or dangerous. How about a car dealership?

With 3/4 of battery in the GPS, I punched "Mercedes of Albuquerque" and cruised to its location, parking in the very, very back parking lot. I tried to look for the management / security staff to let them know I was there and I could no longer move the car until the next day, but the only people I found was a team of very friendly Mexican painters in the Audi dealership.

Conversation (in Spanish) ensued. The painter I talked to had come with his brothers from Mexico to work in the US, away from the internal wars and corruption of the drug cartels. He was the son of a once wealthy man in the Southern Pacific coast of Mexico, and traveled extensively before the economy tanked. He even lived in California, and wishes he could return.

We talked about many other things, shook hands and departed. I needed to find food, as my sole diet that day had been beef jerky. Burguer King (do not judge me) did the trick. I returned to my little trailer and had a pleasant, safe sleep in the cool evening of New Mexico.


Jody (doublejody): The hospitality of Texas has a face.


The two beasts, at the Tourism Office in Decatur.


Two cowboys, two steeds.


The smooth, rolling hills of 287-N.


Suddenly, you start seeing less and less trees.


Freight train. I dreamed of a W123 heist, side by side.


One of the few highway ribbons in the way.


Do not tell me this is not the stereotypical, dry Texas of the movies.


Locomotive lovers, I do not know what this is. I just drive-shot it.


Closed for good. My heart was broken.


Back on the road, without electricity.


The "big nothing" starts here.


More nothing.


A few hours to go! I must get to Albuquerque before sunset!


Good ol' Route 66. Quite dilapidated and burnt.


Not an uncommon sight. Gas stations, motels, restaurants. All abandoned.


Original 1950s signage, beautiful. Cheap rates, too!


Abandon all hope for political correctness.


A lil' bit more nothing for y'all.


Did I mention this place is completely barren?


Just me, and my car. What I head to, and what I leave behind.

- - - - - - - - -

I am currently writing for a Barnes and Noble while the alternator is replaced. I shall update soon with today's progress. For all of those wondering out there, I am fine and safe, sipping on a cup of ice green tea as I write. Life is good.

Oh, Newport, thank you for taking me this far. It is not your fault if your alternator went bad. I must thank you, my iron steed, for driving 600 miles without a hiccup. You are a true champ. Any other car (with spark plugs) would have been left at the side of the road in the scorching heat of the desert. You, however, never quit until we found safe shelter.

__________________
[GONE] - 1995 Mercedes E300 Diesel - 130k miles - Smoke Silver (702) over Mushroom leather (265) - Bladder blasting, coast-to-coast work machine.