Thinking of buying a classic car

A car built more than 40 years ago pays no road tax once you have applied for the historic class, needs no MOT by declaration, and is exempt from London's ULEZ and the English clean air zones. Parts for the popular British classics are plentiful and cheap compared with any modern car, the clubs are large and generous with help, and the cars are simple enough to maintain on a drive with ordinary tools. Values of the common models have been broadly stable for years; the 2020 national survey found half of all historic vehicles worth under £10,000, which is the point: this is a hobby most people can afford, not an investment. A sunny Sunday on the moor road to Goathland in a car you understand is worth more than the spreadsheet says.

Old cars rust, and rust is the one problem that is slow, expensive and structural. They need more maintenance than anything made this century, they have no crumple zones or airbags, their gearing is wrong for motorways, and a car that has stood will not be reliable until someone has gone through it. The 2025 national survey put the average owner's spend at £4,567 a year. Add storage, because a classic left outside under a cover rots faster than one in a dry garage, and insurance on an agreed value. None of this is a reason not to buy; it is the reason to buy the right car.

The purchase price is the start. At auction add the buyer's commission and VAT (at Mathewsons, 7.5 per cent plus VAT on most cars, with 1 per cent more online), transport if the car cannot be driven, and tax and insurance before it moves. Then the recommissioning that any car which has stood for a while needs: oil and filter, coolant, brake fluid and usually brake cylinders, hoses, fuel lines and filter, tyres if they are old or cracked, a battery, plugs, points and belts. Practical Classics' advice is that the braking system of a stored car "should be mostly consigned to the bin", which is the right attitude. Budget for that work before you set your ceiling, and if the car is a project rather than a runner, assume the restoration will cost more than the car.

At an auction viewing you can look, touch, open and, by arrangement, start, but you cannot drive. So look where the money is. Rust gathers where dirt and water sit: sills, wheel arches, valances, floor pans, chassis legs, the bottoms of doors and wings, and on a Stag the A-posts behind the carpet. Press the lower panels and feel for filler; look along the flanks for ripples and for overspray on rubber and trim that says paint has been applied since the factory; check the door, bonnet and boot gaps are even. Under the bonnet look at the oil on the dipstick and under the filler cap, the coolant colour, the state of the fuel hoses and wiring, and whether the engine number matches the V5C. Inside, check every switch and that the trim is complete, because missing trim is dearer than you think. Then read the paperwork, which is where most buyers do not look: the V5C, the old MOTs, invoices, the history file, and a heritage certificate if there is one. Run the registration through the free DVLA MOT history service beforehand to see mileages and advisories back to 2005, and pay for an HPI check to catch outstanding finance, write-offs and cloned identities. If you do not know the model, take someone from the owners' club who does.

Decide the most you will pay in total, fees included, before the sale; set it just above a round number, because everyone else's ceiling is on the round number; leave it as a commission bid if you do not trust yourself; and do not bid on the first car you see. Attend a sale or two before you buy anything. A lot that does not reach its reserve is not lost: ring the office afterwards, because the seller may take an offer.

The phrases that should slow you down: "easy restoration project", "will sail through an MOT", "it'll clean up beautifully", a car blocked in with no wheels on that you cannot get to, "someone is coming from London in about an hour", a premium for a television or celebrity connection, and "it's supposed to be that way" for a fault. A price well below the market, a seller who wants cash, or engine and chassis numbers that do not match the V5C are the signs of a cloned or stolen car. "Barn find" is a marketing term. Some barn finds are wonderful; all of them need everything.

The cars the specialist press and the insurers keep recommending to first-timers are the obvious ones, for good reasons: huge numbers built, every part available, and clubs that will hold your hand. The MGB above all, then the Morris Minor, the Mini, the Triumph Herald and Spitfire (which rusts), the Volkswagen Beetle, the Golf Mk1 and Mk2, the Volvo Amazon, the Porsche 924, the Rover P6 and, for a modern classic, the Mazda MX-5. The Triumph Stag's reputation as a money pit is out of date: most surviving cars have had the cooling system seen to, and a well-kept one is a fine first V8, though a cheap one is a restoration. The consistent warning from every source is that the money pit is not a model, it is a rusty car or a cheap project, whatever the badge.

Walk round it for leaks and rodent damage, charge the battery rather than jumping it, change the oil if it has stood a year, replace old brake fluid and stale fuel, check the brakes free off and the pedal is firm, and make the first drives short and local with an eye on the gauges, then give it a full service after a few hundred miles. Insure it on an agreed value with photographs and receipts, join the owners' club, and keep it in a dry garage with a battery conditioner; our Stag site has a long guide to winter storage that applies to any classic.