Buying a sports car to be sensible makes zero sense. You do not buy an old Birkin because it is a smart choice. You buy it on a whim because you finally stop making excuses, decide to live a little, and break the bank. Look, I would love an RS6 or a Mustang Dark Horse. But realistically, it will take another 100 years before I can buy one, and by then real petrol cars will definitely be gone anyway. I spent months browsing cheap options, looking at oval track stock rods, and checking out track toys that are supposedly easy to fix, whatever that means.

Then this Seven popped up out of nowhere. Crazy cheap price. Finished in original British Racing Green. Best of all, it had the original Birkin Kent motor, totally worked with a bigger bore, low compression pistons, big side draught carbs, and wrapped exhaust manifolds that sound wicked. I stopped overthinking and pulled the trigger. The common belief is that kit cars never work and you are just buying someone else’s mechanical problems. I actually agree. For the past few years, I played it completely safe and only ever bought brand new cars. Reliable, covered under warranty, predictable. But to sleep at night with this buy, I lied to myself a little bit. I told myself that putting aside some Benjamins every 5 years for the inevitable engine, gearbox or head rebuild was just the normal price of having fun.

Two months in, the warnings were completely right, just way faster than expected. Day one, the head gasket blew. Oil went everywhere. The radiator fan failed. The dash was stone dead. The front mudguard brackets kept snapping off from road vibration. Then the front control arm snapped in half. Most people would call a tow truck and sell the damn thing. Luckily, Graham and the crew at SG Classics had my back. I was genuinely nervous when week two rolled around and we kept uncovering fresh issues, but for the incredible amount of care and craft they put in, their pricing was really good. They took the project personally. They rebuilt the head, fixed the wiring gremlins, sorted the cooling, fabricated brand new heavy duty control arms, and dialed in the timing and carbs so the engine stopped buzzing violently on the N1. When morning snags showed up, they even collected the car from my house.

Once sorted, the car became pure joy.

It pulls with savage low grunt and grips like a crazy buggy. Can I tell you how fast it goes? Not a clue. The speedometer does not work, and past 120 your eyes shake so much you cannot see anything anyway. The magic is that you do not need speed to have a blast. Doing 40 behind traffic on Kloof or cruising Chapmans Peak feels amazing. People ignore Ferraris and GT3s parked nearby just to take photos of this little green machine. Every red light turns into a chat with strangers. And every time you get out, you smell completely of petrol. The build is not done either. Next, it goes in for a 5 speed gearbox so cruising revs drop properly. I still need better wiring, more electrical fixes, and a custom paint job to make it mine.

There is no doubt in my mind that the worst is not behind me yet. I fully expect this newly adopted OG to throw some wild surprises at me over the next few months. Case in point: just when I thought we fixed every single problem, the gear knob came off in my hand driving up Kloof. I just started laughing, shoved it back on, and kept going. I am definitely not financially prepared for the bills that are coming, but I can wholeheartedly say I am emotionally ready for the chaos. Because after every repair, starting your morning in a Birkin means nothing can ruin your day. You started it in a Seven.