Imagine a labor of love spanning nearly six decades—a father and son pouring their hearts into building a car that’s not just a vehicle, but a living testament to their bond. This is the story of Len Palmeri and his home-built hot rod, a project that began in 1968 and continues to captivate car enthusiasts today. But here’s where it gets even more fascinating: this isn’t just any car—it’s a unique blend of a 1929 Mercedes body and a 1956 Chevrolet frame, meticulously crafted in the garage of Palmeri’s childhood home in east Detroit (now Eastpointe).
Updated March 3, 2026, 1:30 p.m. ET, this story highlights how Palmeri has dedicated his life to preserving this automotive masterpiece, which recently earned a Preservation Award at the Detroit Autorama. The car’s dual spare tires, a nod to the 1930s era his late father, Tony, adored, are just one of the many details that make it a standout. But this is the part most people miss: the car isn’t just a relic of the past—it’s a living, breathing connection to Palmeri’s father, a man who not only taught him how to build a car but also how to navigate life.
Palmeri, a retired General Motors designer and former journeyman tool and die maker, recalls the painstaking process of constructing the car. Using steel as their primary material, they first crafted parts from cardboard, creating templates before shaping the metal to fit. Some components, like the 1936 Ford headlights gifted by a friend of his father, the Dodge Charger gas cap, and Ford Model A taillights, were sourced from other vehicles. Yet, the car is far from a mishmash—every addition tells a story, like the red pinstriping added by a friend, which symbolizes the relationships forged during its creation.
One of the most intriguing changes came after Palmeri’s retirement from GM. He replaced the Mercedes emblem in the hood ornament with a peace sign, a nostalgic nod to the 1970s when children would flash the symbol as he drove by. Is this a controversial move? Some purists might argue it deviates from the car’s original spirit, but Palmeri sees it as a personal touch that keeps the car’s history alive.
Named Andare—Italian for “to go”—the car reflects both Palmeri’s heritage and its purpose. Equipped with a Corvette engine and a six-speed transmission, it’s a powerhouse on the road. Palmeri once pushed it to 140 mph but admits, “It was pretty scary. I was younger then, but keeping it straight at that speed was a challenge.” While he doesn’t use it as a daily driver, he frequently takes it on long trips, including the entire length of Route 66 and California’s Highway 1.
But here’s the real question: Is a car truly meant to be shown or driven? Palmeri and his father always believed the latter, yet this car has become a bridge to countless connections. “The best part of the car,” Palmeri says, “is all the people I meet who would never talk to me if it wasn’t for this car.”
What do you think? Is preserving a car’s originality more important than personalizing it? Share your thoughts in the comments below. And if you’ve got a story about a car that’s more than just a vehicle, we’d love to hear it. For more automotive tales, subscribe to our newsletter or submit a letter to the editor at freep.com/letters. Eric D. Lawrence, senior car culture reporter at the Detroit Free Press, is always on the lookout for the next great story—send your tips to elawrence@freepress.com.
