The unexpected end of our trusty Volkswagen Passat wagon back in 2008 left our family with just one vehicle. We managed for a while, juggling our minivan with city living, public transport, and the occasional ride-sharing service. Later that year, as I embarked on a new consulting venture (perhaps not the best timing with the looming recession), the idea of buying another brand new car felt financially imprudent. It was time to explore used options.
That’s when I stumbled upon a New York Times article profiling a New Jersey resident who relied on Mercedes W123 diesel models as his everyday cars. A lightbulb went off! The legendary indestructibility of these vehicles resonated with me. Here was a chance to own my first classic car and solve my daily driver needs simultaneously. The idea of a robust, vintage Mercedes-Benz as a practical choice began to solidify. Inspired by others who had shared similar thoughts, I started my search for a Mercedes 240d. That search led me to a white 1983 model.
Looking back, purchasing this particular Mercedes 240D wasn’t the most thoroughly thought-out decision I’ve ever made. Firstly, my quest began in January in Minnesota – hardly ideal car-buying weather. The selection of available vehicles was, to say the least, limited. Secondly, despite admiring the W123’s aesthetic and reputation for years, my personal experience was non-existent. I had never driven one, and my only encounter was a brief 10-minute ride in a friend’s parents’ car many years prior. Thirdly, we were talking about a car that was already 26 years old at the time. Two decades of wear and tear inevitably take their toll, and a comprehensive inspection was crucial. Fourthly, the Mercedes in question was advertised on Craigslist, located on a farm roughly two hours from my home. This distance, combined with time constraints and the biting Minnesota winter, further complicated a proper pre-purchase inspection. And fifthly, this was the notorious Mercedes four-cylinder diesel – a reliable workhorse, yes, but also famously slow. To top it off, it had an automatic transmission. Starting a 26-year-old diesel in sub-freezing temperatures demands a unique kind of patience (thankfully, it was equipped with a block heater).
So, after convincing my wife and sons to join me on a 100-mile drive to a southern Minnesota farm, I met the affable young seller and, somewhat impulsively, handed over $2200 for the Mercedes 240D. These cars are renowned for their exceptional build quality, almost vault-like in their solidity. This particular model had around 170,000 miles on the odometer, suggesting it still had “life left,” as some would say. The ride was smooth, it ran quietly, and once it reached cruising speed, it could maintain that pace effortlessly for miles. However, the drive home revealed a few immediate shortcomings. The dashboard illumination was incredibly weak – practically rendering the speedometer unreadable in the dark. The heater was remarkably slow – a very LONG while – to produce any noticeable warmth. And winter traction was less than impressive. It had been some time since I had driven a rear-wheel-drive vehicle, and despite decent Michelin tires, I had forgotten the significant difference drive wheels make on snowy roads.
The Mercedes 240D was undeniably built like a tank, but time takes its toll on any vehicle. Within the first month of ownership, the oil cooler lines developed severe leaks, requiring replacement to the tune of almost $1,000. The infamous Mercedes vacuum system began to misbehave erratically. Door locks would randomly open or refuse to open, seemingly governed by some automotive voodoo I couldn’t decipher. I even invested in specialized diagnostic equipment to troubleshoot the vacuum issues, but with limited success. My elementary school-aged sons frequently voiced their complaints about being trapped in the back seat when a door would inexplicably lock shut.
Winter driving brought another set of anxieties – the constant worry of the car failing to start. Having never owned a diesel in such a harsh climate, I became paranoid about venturing out without plugging in the block heater. The glow plugs did their job, and I was never actually stranded, but the apprehension lingered whenever I parked in sub-freezing temperatures for any extended period. Adding to the list, the air conditioning system was non-functional, which also meant defrosting and defogging the windows could be a hit-or-miss affair.
However, by far the most significant drawback was the car’s overall slowness. For local driving, this wasn’t a major impediment. Once up to speed, the 240D kept pace with other traffic. Handling was competent, and after re-acclimating to the nuances of rear-wheel drive in winter conditions, I felt comfortable. But highway merging became a calculated maneuver. Every on-ramp required careful planning – needing a long entry lane with no fast-approaching vehicles in the right lane. Most of the time, it was manageable, but the margin for error felt slim. The automatic transmission shifted smoothly and worked adequately with the engine; the issue was simply a lack of horsepower relative to the car’s weight. Add in family members, and merging onto highways could become a rather dramatic undertaking.
Despite these shortcomings, the Mercedes 240D possessed numerous virtues. With more time, money, garage space, and specialized knowledge, I believe I could have made it work as a long-term vehicle. The W123 generation might be perceived as somewhat conservative in styling, but it’s undeniably a classic design, and Mercedes-Benz clearly over-engineered these cars. It’s no surprise that I encountered many of these same models operating as taxis years later during travels in Morocco. Excellent interior space utilization, robust build quality, a comfortable yet controlled ride, and fundamentally sound mechanical systems made the Mercedes 240D a natural choice for enduring use, particularly in warmer climates.
Ultimately, however, the Mercedes 240D wasn’t fulfilling its role as the reliable backup family car I needed. As warmer weather arrived, my automotive interests began to drift towards other options, and by September, I found myself considering another classic rear-wheel-drive replacement – this time a blue Volvo 240 wagon. After a few weeks on Craigslist, I sold the Mercedes to a couple residing on a farm about 90 miles north of the Twin Cities. Perhaps there’s a natural synergy between rural life and these enduring, dependable cars.
Now, as an empty nester, I sometimes entertain the idea of revisiting the W123 diesel, perhaps as a purely fair-weather collector car. If I were to pursue that, I would likely seek out a model with the turbocharged five-cylinder engine or, at the very least, a four-cylinder paired with a manual transmission. These cars still possess a remarkably handsome profile, even four decades after their initial introduction. I occasionally spot wagon versions in my neighborhood and think to myself, “Maybe someday…”
