A classic car graveyard in Uruguay
Actualitzat: 30 minutes ago
It must be about ten years now since my fascination with a historic Argentine scrapyard in the province of Entre Ríos inspired me to start this blog. Dozens of cars dating from the first half of the twentieth century were slowly rusting away in the open air, abandoned to the elements and the passage of time.
Some time ago, a picture of a Ford Eifel that I came across on the internet revealed the existence of a similar scrapyard in Uruguay. So, as soon as I had the opportunity to visit it, I simply couldn't pass it up.
As had happened on another occasion, when I set off in search of old cars along the road to Colonia del Sacramento, the frequent stops to photograph classic cars kept delaying my arrival. Places such as Antigüedades Risotto would, on their own, have been reason enough for any classic car enthusiast to make the journey. The collection belonging to another owner, on the neighbouring plot, was equally worthy of a visit.
This time, I didn't want the two-hour drive to turn into a day-long expedition like it had on my trip to Colonia. So, at some point, I had to start resisting the allure of the roadside attractions.
When I finally reached my destination, not far from Punta del Este, my expectations were more than fulfilled. This time, it wasn't dozens but hundreds of classics waiting for me under the sun, on a large plot of land where horses grazed and Southern Lapwings guarded their nests, hidden at ground level.
Unlike the Argentine scrapyard, and contrary to what I had initially imagined, these cars had not been sitting there since the middle of the last century. Most of them had been brought there over the previous two or three decades.
The fact that many were arranged in neat rows made it possible to organise my visit and inspect them one by one, without missing a single example.
At the entrance there was a bodywork and paint workshop, where some of these classics were being brought back to life. A few buses, some with wooden bodywork that was already showing serious signs of decay, marked the entrance to the meadow where the rest of the collection was spread out.
The place offered a wonderful illustration of the breadth and variety of the motor industry during the first half of the twentieth century and up to the 1960s. There were hardly any vehicles dating from later than that decade.
Among so many enormous American cars, the rusty outline of a Renault 17 Gordini particularly caught my eye. Its metallic grey paintwork still shone through the vast patches of rust. It was the version intended for the American market, fitted with those dreadful oversized bumpers added to the European models of the period. Being a convertible had undoubtedly accelerated its deterioration. What surprised me, however, was the remarkably good condition of the interior, particularly the upholstery, with its beautiful Renault seats featuring a distinctive petal-like design.
Among all the Fords, Chevrolets and other American makes, I was also struck by the number of different Studebaker models. I must admit that my knowledge of this marque is rather limited. I had never taken much interest in it, and some of its models had even struck me as rather ugly, until I came across a museum dedicated to the marque in Chile.
On this occasion, there were several examples, including various Champions. One of the best-preserved cars was a Studebaker 3R, which reminded me of the one I had seen at the Mancopulli Museum.
Another thing I find fascinating is coming across cars that are more than a hundred years old and are still standing on their original wooden-spoked wheels. Despite their age, there must have been more than half a dozen examples on this property.
It would be impossible to list all the cars that were there. Most were American models from the 1930s to the 1950s. I would estimate that there were close to two dozen Ford Model As, some already restored and others awaiting or undergoing restoration. There were also Falcons, Galaxies, Thunderbirds…
I was equally surprised by the number of British Ford Prefects from different generations, as well as DKW 1000s, possibly Argentine-built examples. I may well devote a separate post to the latter if I can find the time.
And, of course, I couldn't finish without mentioning the model that had brought me all the way there: a two-door Ford Eifel, apparently complete, although in an advanced state of corrosion.
The Eifel was the German counterpart of the British Ford C, also known as the Ford 10 or Ford Ten, a model which was also manufactured in Barcelona and elsewhere. Initially, the Eifels were virtually identical to the Ford Cs, just as the Ford Köln models were the German equivalents of the Ford Y. From 1937 onwards, however, the German model began to diverge. Although it retained its 1,172 cc side-valve engine, its styling was substantially revised, most notably with a much more streamlined front end, reminiscent of the American V8 Fords of the period. It is this distinctive front-end design that has earned these cars the nickname Alligator among enthusiasts.
After several hours exploring the site under the blazing sun, and having been the only visitor that day, I finally brought my visit to an end. It is certainly a place I would recommend to anyone with an interest in old cars, or cachilas, as they are known here.
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