My feet were trapped in icy tracks as I climbed up to the cabin in the Alps. A dazzling gold W126 Mercedes-Benz S-Class with chains on the back sat on winter tires. It looked flawless. I was immediately escorted to my grandparents’ garage in Fargo, North Dakota, which I called Grandpa and Nonnie. It felt like I was outside of my body. However, it was short-lived. “Are you alright?” A German Mercedes-Benz representative asked, which must have taken less time than it felt. I said, “Yeah, I’m good.” “This car transports me to a different era and location.” However, I was not present for the vintage S-Class. After sleeping in a Mercedes-Benz Sprinter RV van and riding in a 2026 Mercedes-Benz CLA EV prototype, I ended up on the side of a mountain in Austria. However, I was thinking about W126 all day. My family has a history of this. My grandfather, Paul Feder, passed away when I was only five years old. Although I don’t have many memories of him, most of them are of his final vehicle: In 1991, a Mercedes-Benz 350 SDL was custom-built in blue-on-blue. I still have a digital copy of the car’s window sticker, most likely because of my father. The Ice Blue Metallic on Blue S-Class arrived at the Port of Baltimore and was prepped for delivery to Chicago. The car had 8,408 miles on the odometer when my grandfather died in November 1991. He cherished the automobile. From a young age, I had some of the same beliefs: cars should be respected as amazing engineering marvels. When he died, my grandfather, an accountant who also owned agricultural and commercial real estate, drove that car everywhere. One of his first recollections is driving his diesel-powered Mercedes to the farm. He instantly made a sudden turn, and we found ourselves driving over the fields while heading along the dirt road that connects them. “We can’t be driving through the fields in this car!” I yelled, going mad. I was 5 years old. Paul Feder, who was always cool, controlled, and smart, smiled and said, “It’s OK, Kitchik.” He referred to his grandchildren as “Kitchicks.” It was not excellent. I was not doing well. The fact that we were driving this stunning blue Mercedes across the field was beyond my understanding. However, my grandfather did not hesitate. That day, I was given the opportunity to ride in the combine. My father purchased her a 1990 Audi V8 quattro (as seen in the snow on Nokian Hakkapeliittas). After my grandfather died, my grandma, Nonnie, maintained the car and drove it every day. My grandmother and my early years continued my grandfather’s automobile heritage. In the severely cold, snowy Fargo winters, Nonnie drove the car year-round on winter tires. During one winter vacation, she took my sister Hannah and me to see a movie. She left the car idling in the parking lot the entire time to prevent the diesel fuel from congealing in the chilly weather. “Nonnie, someone is going to steal the car!” I burst into tears of fear. “No, Dear (everyone was Dear), I’m locking it with the spare key,” she replied calmly. She acted with the accuracy of a bank vault, causing the pneumatic lock mechanism to “clunk.” When Nonnie shifted from the W126 to her final vehicle, a 2001 Audi A6 4.2 in Ming Blue on Vanilla and Blue, she sold the 350SDL to a family member. I saw it twice more until it died after colliding with a deer a heartbreaking conclusion to an incredible vehicle. In Austria, a 1988 Mercedes-Benz 300 SE in gold W126 stopped me dead. In contrast to the unsightly headlights and larger bumpers required for automobiles constructed to U.S. regulations, the slim Euro-spec headlights and tight bumpers looked stunning, and the Champagne metallic paint sparkled. The place has a roof rack with skis connected. Mercedes-Benz named it Goldkäppchen, which means “Golden Red Riding Hood.” Although Mercedes-Benz Classic owns the W126, it is not officially part of the 1,100-car collection. Peter Becker, a representative for Mercedes-Benz Classic, said, “It’s too nice.” Becker and a coworker are the only ones who maintain the Goldkäppchen car. Although Mercedes-Benz owns it, it is primarily an off-the-books operation. Furthermore, it is the only car in the collection with winter tires mounted. The former owner was a meticulous German who preserved a significant collection of receipts for all repairs. The car had been with its former owner for 10 years when Becker and his crew purchased it, but aside from its sale to a Daimler-Benz dealership in Mannheim on April 29, 1988, its history is unknown. Karl Benz was born and raised in Mannheim, a historically noteworthy city. Because it is a somewhat unofficial vehicle, the media rarely drives it. Eileen Falkenberg-Hull, a friend and fellow journalist who knows Becker, watched my response to seeing the Goldkäppchen vehicle. She texted Becker to endorse me. After Becker gave his OK, I had the keys a few minutes later. I felt a connection to my grandparents the moment I handled the laser-cut key a wild concept in 1988. They were smiling down at me somewhere. When I grabbed the driver-side door handle, it clicked like a bank vault. I was immediately returned to the Fargo garage. Recollections. The familiar Mercedes-Benz aroma filled my nostrils as I slid into the front seat, which was covered in gold cloth and resembled a throne. It smelled exactly like my grandparents’ W126. On my way to pick up my friend Mark for a playdate on Highway 7 in Minneapolis, Minnesota, I closed my eyes and thought of Nonnie. On this day, I told her, “Nonnie!” after understanding she was older than my grandfather when he died. You could pass away at any moment! She chuckled. I was an invaluable youngster.
