I had a great experience purchasing my Mercedes SL from Beverly Hills Car Club, thanks to Alpha Dixon. From start to finish, Alpha was professional, knowledgeable, and never made me feel pressured. He took the time to answer all of my questions, was honest about the vehicle, and made the entire buying process smooth and straightforward.
If you’re looking for a classic or specialty vehicle, I highly recommend asking for Alpha Dixon. He made the experience enjoyable, and I wouldn’t hesitate to do business with him again. Thanks again, Alpha!
TR
Tao Ruspoli
Jun 27, 2026
If You Want to Make God Laugh, Tell Him Your Plans
I was 50, and everything I had planned had fallen apart. So I did what a man in midlife might: lay awake at 2 in the morning looking at vintage Ferraris on the internet.
My father, Prince Alessandro "Dado" Ruspoli, drove Ferraris back when they were perhaps extravagant cars but not yet hedge funds with steering wheels —a 1958 250 GT Cabriolet among them, 1 of 40 by Pinin Farina—and he sold them all for less than he paid. Some families inherit things. We inherited stories.
Most modern Ferraris don't do much for me…too much aggression, too little mystery. But the Mondial, the so-called ugly Ferrari, always struck me as beautiful precisely because it's a little awkward. It gets better with age, like certain faces. Dinos were just as unloved when I was in my 20s; I had a feeling they'd one day cost 10 times more, and now they do. I have the same feeling about the Mondial.
Indy, my mechanic friend, said he could work on one…”It's one of the last fully analog Ferraris”…troublesome but knowable.
So we go to Beverly Hills Car Club & see their extraordinary collection. Gevik brought out the 85 I thought I wanted; Indy said no: wrong wheels, too modified. Then the 1983: gray silver, red interior, unexpectedly gorgeous, with not a trace of cheese.
I'd never driven a Ferrari. My God, the sound…not loud or vulgar, more like a small, furious Italian orchestra installed directly behind my spine. I fell in love, more than one should with an object.
Then it died on the test drive, close enough to walk back…this was the car introducing itself.
I made an offer; they accepted. By California law they couldn't sell it until it passed smog, so I waited, impatiently. I wanted more reassurance, less Italian opera around the logistics. I would have loved a purchase agreement. Alex, the owner, put me in touch with John (the reason this is 5 stars).
I became the most annoying man in his phone; he stayed patient throughout. Finally it passed smog…and then wouldn't start. Of course.
Weeks later, the morning after I caught myself browsing old Jaguars, John texted: It’s ready. (I think the Ferrari got jealous.)
I drove fifteen glorious miles to show my brother, got off the freeway, & it jammed in second gear.
My brother said, "Get your money back! Return it immediately!" Absolutely not. (Someone later asked why I bought it. "Because it's a perfect metaphor for my life right now: beautiful but broken down.")
They fixed it; may even have been my fault; you don't force an old Ferrari into 2nd. You ask politely. If it says no, you just skip it.
I picked it up again at 5, into rush hour, in a freshly resurrected 1983 Ferrari. 30 minutes later, white smoke everywhere. Strangers who'd just been giving me thumbs up now yelling, "Pull over!" I pulled over laughing & nearly crying, sure it was on fire. I saw it was a loose radiator hose. In the moral universe of old Ferraris, excellent news.
I called John. Again.
This is where they came through. I'd signed the as-is paperwork; they could have shrugged. They didn't. Carl, the tow driver, understood the particular humiliation of being stranded in the object of your desire. After closing, John and Oscar the mechanic were waiting. They stayed late, fixed the hose, and treated me like a fellow traveler in the strange religion of old cars.
Then I drove 3 hours home, traffic gone, engine singing behind me, the month transfigured into joy.
Is it perfect? No. It's an absurd thing to own. It is also the most beautiful object I have ever owned.
My father used to say, "Non tutti i mali vengono per nuocere." Not all bad things come to harm us. This car broke down three times before it got me home, and somehow I loved it more. Beverly Hills Car Club, especially John and Oscar, stood behind it when they didn't have to.
5 stars. There were a few afternoons it could have been 1. But they came through.
If you want a sensible car, buy literally anything else. If you want something beautiful, poetic and perhaps a little broken, you know where to go.