Climbing skyward in $50 increments from its $100 opener, the auction price of this mixed bag Florida 1959 Triumph TR3A with 100,000-plus miles on the ticker stands at $4,350 here on eBay with an unmet reserve. It’s a dealer-owned classic Brit that checks a bunch of boxes without setting off too many alarms. But, as the seller admits, it’s a project. One that needs to be approached with eyes wide open.

The good stuff: The numbers match. It’s been certified original by the Heritage Trust. There’s “surface rust,” but a solid frame is represented. Its previous owner awakened it from a 35-year slumber prior to dipping a toe into the car’s mechanics.

It’s Signal Red over a black leather interior, one that managed to hang onto its optional, cosmetically desirable but effectively useless back seat. It has parts. But, above all, it’s a TR3. A time traveling survivor, an ultra-classic pulse quickening head-turner with roots that date to the era of “I Like Ike” and Elvis.

The not-so good stuff: It doesn’t run. But, as many high school and college “Three” owners might reasonably ask, did they ever? The car’s 1991 cc, straight-4, overhead valve engine could, in theory, muster nearly 100 horses that pushed the little Brit to a top speed of 110 mph. When, that is, it wasn’t riding your friendly neighborhood mechanic’s rack. Admittedly, it was a meager inconvenience for a ride that otherwise oozed testosterone and cool. Lots and lots of toe-curling, chick-magneting British cool.

If your eyes aren’t immediately drawn to the TR3’s low slung knuckle dragger doors, it’s time to get them checked. The Three gave new meaning to being “one with the road.” It was often inches from your elbow. There’s a reason the early models didn’t come with door handles. And why few owners cared or noticed.

The only righteous approach to the front seats came by air, a vertical gymnastic arrival that, with minimal practice and (hopefully) the top fully retracted, put you squarely behind the wheel. Doors? Doors? We don’t need no stinkin’ doors!

But there’s a lot of reality to be reckoned with before you catapult yourself into this specimen. The seller notes that the car’s prior owner couldn’t get the motor to turn. A piston, he says, was frozen to its sleeve. The motor was reassembled “finger tight” and returned to the car absent its piston rod bearings, push rods, tappets, pressure plate, wiring harness, etc. You’ll find them, minus the harness, in the trunk. The seller represents the transmission shifts freely and the clutch linkage works.

Bodywise, the seller states the frame looks solid. There’s no apparent accident damage. The floors are original, but rusted. They’ll need to be replaced.

You’ll also find cancerous rockers and iron oxide outbreaks on “various areas of the lower body.” The paint, as the photos attest, is “old and faded, and has chips, scratches, and dings.” But, it’s noted, “the body panel fit and alignment look good.”

The interior? Pretty much as you’d expect. The photos do a good job of illustrating the innards. They are what they are. Same with the could-be-worse underside. The one that could be better. But isn’t. Again, it is what it is.

Be sure to read the entire listing and the terms of sale. They’re only slightly less complex than the tax codes. The numbers? An operable “deteriorated restoration” with all parts present prices out at around $9,000, according to the guides. The range for a good to excellent TR3A is $19,000 to $31,000. There’s likely a little headroom here, but with the car’s mystery reserve it’s difficult to gauge how much.

There’s action on this 3A. So far, it’s attracted eight bidders (including one very determined soul) and 28 bids. It’s located in the sleepy hamlet of Bell, Florida – not far from the university town of Gainesville.

Check out the pix. Does this baggage-laden trailer queen bring enough late 50’s UK cool to make it a potential resto? Or, cool notwithstanding, is it an outright reject? The seller has provided more than enough photos to generate a healthy quarrel. So, as always, you tell us.