Hello, Sixer
The start of a beautiful friendship.

It’s been exactly three years since I walked down the gateway at Tulsa International Airport, talking with a gentleman who had just flown all the way from California’s Nappa Valley to buy my Merkur Scorpio and drive it home.

Was I ever glad he was there. The Scorpio was a beautifully conceived but underdeveloped German Ford that left me wanting more than its black leather seats, polished wood trim and power accessories could deliver. Too bad, really; at its heart, the Scorpio was (and is) a nice car.

What I really wanted was a car beautiful both in conception and execution. A car acknowledged by the world’s motoring press as a standard bearer for graceful styling and spirited performance. A car that exemplified the best attributes of a true Gran Turismo coupe: a civilized, personal car built both for the pleasure of driving and as a feast to the eye.

What I wanted, in short, was a BMW 6 Series.

I had found a likely suspect in the Tulsa World classifieds a couple of weeks before my trip to the airport, an '83 633CSi. The only thing that stood between me and the coupe was the Scorpio.

Happily, the Merkur passed the detailed inspection and roadtest given it by the man from California. My last sight of the white Scorpio and its happy new owner was of the two of them turning south on the Tulsa interstate for Oklahoma City and points west. I waved to them from behind the wheel of my newly acquired Sixer as I turned eastwards toward Arkansas and home.

My first sight of the 633 had been a few weeks earlier, when its owner and I walked into his garage. There before my eyes sat a swooping low German coupe with fetching silver body and red leather interior. After pulling it outside into the sunlight, I noticed the 390mm wheels were painted black in their centers, similar to Porsche 911SCs of that era. Although I didn’t care for the black wheels, the expensive TRX tires they wore were nearly new. Lifting the hood (and holding it - the struts had lost their oomph), the engine bay was clean and boasted a new brake booster. The oil looked good, odometer read 124,000 something, and the body was dent-free, with an older but nice repaint still serviceable and glossy.

As I walked around the car with a critical eye, I liked what I saw. The interior was nearly perfect, with fully adjustable manual seats covered in gorgeous unmarked red leather from the Dingolfing factory. They looked good, felt good and smelled good.

All that remained was the test drive. With the owner at my side, I took the Sixer up to speed on the Tulsa interstate. The engine felt strong, the 3-speed automatic shifted smoothly, and the vented disc brakes stopped the car with no fade or pulling. As I drove I mentally noted a few items that needed attention: alignment, shocks, and an original windshield pitted with 15 years of road use. The right rear window motor was bad, but otherwise, everything worked. Overall, this 6 Series was a well kept and bone stock example of BMW’s top of the line coupe, circa 1983.

A car worth owning.

After a final walkaround to confirm the integrity of the big coupe's body, I wrote a deposit check which the owner generously agreed to hold a few weeks until I sold my Scorpio. The time flew by, the Scorpio headed west, and I brought home the wonderful car that sits in my garage three years later. She is the first of three 6 Series' I’ve owned, and still my favorite.

That's right. I sold the Sixer after a year to a fellow BMW CCA member and friend who paid me what I had bought the car for, plus a couple of thousand more I’d spent for new tires and wheels (original 14" German BBS lace-spokes) and windshield and radio/cassette and shocks and muffler and transmission fluid and filters and all the other things (there actually weren’t that many) the coupe needed to bring her up to standard. Why I sold her I really can’t say. I only know that doing was so obviously a mistake that I bought not one but two more Sixers afterwards in atonement for my egregious error. Of course, my last trade a few months ago was with the same gentleman to whom I sold my ‘83 - he now owns the beautiful white ‘86 635CSi you’ve read about in these pages. I traded him the 2-owner, low-mileage car for the silver 633 plus needed cash to fund my upcoming 25th anniversary with my lovely wife. We'll jet to Barbados or some other exotic isle and lie on the beach in the sun.

A happy trade, indeed, and the right thing to do. I recovered my original Sixer in even better condition than when I sold it. And I would tell you that the maxim happy wife: happy life is absolutely true.

So the silbersix and I once again travel the road together. She is my daily driver, my polaris silver friend with whom I share many a happy hour at the wheel. I recently treated her to new center grills, stainless steel brake lines, M Sport steering wheel and a set of European Hella H4 headlamps which bathe the road for over a mile on high-beam with incredible illumination. That red leather emits a heady aroma unique to older German cars, composed of equal parts Lexol, buffalo hide and the mechanicals of a BMW nearly 20 years old.

The right stuff, indeed.

As with all Sixers, my coupe was built to be savored for the pleasure she gives to both the discerning driver and appreciative observer as she rides the highways of the world.

Is this a dream or what?  -Rick Sparks

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