Two Years With a Mercedes W123: What Living With a 40-Year-Old Benz Is Actually Like

I’ve owned this 1983 Mercedes 200 for two years now. In that time I’ve put around 8,000 miles on it — town driving, motorway runs, a few plowed fields, the German autobahn, and yes, a lap of the Nürburgring. I’ve restored it. I’ve crammed five people into it. I’ve driven it in 30-degree heat and in 60 mph winds.

So when people ask what it’s actually like to live with a W123, I don’t have to guess. I know.

First, the Money Question

Let’s get this out of the way, because it’s the thing everyone asks. W123 values are creeping up. These aren’t £1,500 snotters anymore. A reasonable roadworthy example starts around £4,000 to £5,000. A nice saloon or estate will run you up to about £10,000. A mint-condition 280 Coupe? Double that.

So no, they’re not cheap cars anymore. But here’s the trade-off: you’re getting a mid-1970s design that you can genuinely use every single day. That’s not something you can say about most classics from that era.

What You Get Inside

First thing you notice is that door. That solid, heavy, deeply satisfying thunk when it closes. Mercedes built these cars up to a standard, not down to a price, and you feel it immediately.

Even a low-spec car like mine comes with a properly powerful heater, a radio, excellent illumination, and those big sprung horsehair seats. They’re fantastically comfortable. I’m about six feet tall and there’s loads of headroom. You can spec a sunroof if you want one. Visibility is excellent. Everything you touch feels like it’ll outlast you.

Practicality matters too, and the W123 delivers. The boot is enormous. I keep oil and bits and pieces in there, as you do with a classic, but there’s still room for absurd amounts of luggage. You could fit two people in there if you were so inclined. I’m not judging.

The Running Costs Are Genuinely Reasonable

This is where the W123 quietly embarrasses newer cars.

Even the newest example is over 40 years old, which in the UK means historic registration status. That means free road tax. It’s technically MOT exempt as well, though you’d be mad not to get one done anyway for the sake of 40 or 50 quid.

Fuel economy? Worst I’ve had in town is around 25 mpg. That’s a 2.0-litre petrol, remember. A Cortina of the same era wouldn’t do much better. On a motorway run, I’ve seen 34 mpg. For a big carbureted petrol saloon, that’s genuinely decent.

Insurance is the real surprise. I’m 26, which isn’t a teenager but isn’t old either as far as insurers are concerned. I’ve got three points on my licence. I work in media. And for this car, valued at £9,000, I pay £210 a year.

Let me put that in perspective. A single secondhand wheel trim for this car cost me £50 when one fell off recently. Replacing all four would cost about the same as a full year’s insurance.

The Reliability Thing Isn’t a Myth

In two years and 8,000-odd miles, I’ve had exactly one mechanical issue. It was a failed alternator — and technically my own fault. I jump-started another car with this one, cooked the battery and alternator in the process, and got stranded.

Except I didn’t really get stranded. I jump-started it again, ran it with no lights on, and it still got me home. Without an alternator. Try that in a modern car.

That’s the W123 in a nutshell. It makes you feel invinc ible. I’ve driven it in freezing conditions, in heat, in wind. It always gets you where you’re going.

Rust Is the Real Enemy

Mechanically, these cars are bombproof. Structurally, they can rot anywhere. That’s the honest truth about W123 ownership.

The good news is that it needn’t be a dealbreaker if you buy carefully. Avoid anything with serious rot in places like the roof. Repair panels exist for pretty much everything, and often at surprisingly reasonable prices. I put two brand-new front wings on this car a year ago. They were £100 each.

Parts support is genuinely superb. Most mechanical and structural bits are available new. All the small stuff — trim, seats, switches — is abundant secondhand, because so many W123s have been scrapped over the years purely because of rust.

Upgrades Worth Doing

If you’re going to use one of these daily — and you absolutely can — a few small improvements make a big difference.

1970s lighting is not good. I’ve fitted LED bulbs everywhere except the indicators, since those won’t flash properly with LEDs. It’s a 20 or 30 quid job for the whole car, and it transforms night driving. The car becomes properly usable after dark instead of merely visible.

I’ve also upgraded the radio to a retro-looking Blaupunkt unit with Bluetooth and DAB, plus some modern speakers in the back. Modern tires are another easy win — I’ve got Falcons on mine, and they grip in all conditions. I even took it around the Nürburgring on them, and they held up to some fairly boisterous driving.

Anything mechanical on a W123, you can do yourself at home with a basic toolkit.

What Else Could You Buy Instead?

If you’re in the market for a 1970s or ‘80s classic saloon and the W123 doesn’t quite appeal, what are the alternatives?

A BMW 5 Series — either the E12 or E28 — is the obvious rival. Both are quite rare now, especially the E12. They rot just as badly, and they don’t have anything like the parts support. You can’t get a diesel E12, and you can’t get an estate. The Merc wins.

A Peugeot 504 is a generation behind and doesn’t feel as refined at speed. Audis of this era are niche and a bit odd. A Jaguar XJ won’t offer the same reliability or durability, and it’ll rot even more enthusiastically.

One Thing It Isn’t: Fast

Don’t kid yourself. This is a 200 petrol, and it’s far from the least powerful model. A 200 diesel has half the power. Even a 280 with 156 horsepower won’t get to 60 in under 10 seconds, and you’ll drink a lot more fuel doing it.

These are not fast cars. That was never the point. If you wanted speed in the early ’80s, you bought something else entirely.

So What’s the Verdict?

If you want a classic you can use every day, all year round, in any conditions — one that seats five, cruises comfortably at 70 or 80 on the motorway, offers genuine refinement and build quality, and comes with excellent parts and club support — the choice is pretty simple.

But the real reason to own one isn’t on a spreadsheet. It’s the way you feel when you get in at the end of a long, hard day. It’s freezing outside. You open that heavy door, hear it shut, and suddenly you feel special.

For me, there really is only one choice. It’s as easy as W123.