Rose-tinted spectacles. Or maybe beer goggles, except it was more excitement than alcohol that blocked my inhibitions from saving me from this pile.
It was only the third example I looked at, but it seemed perfect at the time. It was red and had two doors, which was just about the entirety of my criteria. I somehow managed to miss that the undercarriage was full of rust from being parked outside in Pacifica its whole life, and also rationalized that the ineffective brakes meant it was due for a brake fluid flush, rather than the caliper and hardline I’d end up replacing.
I spent two weekends changing the timing belt because I had to do it twice thanks to forgetting steps the first time. I burned a bunch of cash on seat adapters to install a set of E21 Recaros that didn’t work right thanks to bent brackets, and lots of time banging my head against the wall replacing alternators (yes-plural), freeze plugs, and countless other bits that kept adding up. Another, cleaner E30 came up for sale. I’d been eyeing that one a while anyways, so I put the red one up for sale with the smog cert not having even expired yet. I lost a ton of money trying to get the car in a healthy state, so I was happy to see it go.