If I’da Known

If I’da known. I say that a lot. I was buying cars for a little used car lot and on the weekends my partner would man the phones and watch the lot, and I’d drive around and try to buy cars. He would go through the news paper classifieds and find likely suspects, , set them up and make appointments for me to go look at the cars. I had a pager and he’d page me and I’d find a phone, call him back, and get the scoop and go try to buy the car.

I always had a stack of cash, but I stored it strategically on my person. I’d put my first offer for the car in my left front pocket in a money clip. If I wanted to try $900 as a first offer, that’s what I would put in my money clip. And stash the rest in other pockets.

I went out to the burbs to look at a 5.0 liter Mustang. The ad said it was a notchback, 5 speed, and completely “gone through.” Which meant it was a ex-highway patrol car. Those cars were usually cool. They were fast. But, usually they were thrashed with a cheap Earl Scheib coat of electric metallic blue or green or something equally ugly. But they were easy for us to sell for around five grand. He advertised it for $4900 and we figured it was a rebuilt cop car and maybe I could grind him down some to make a little money.

I stuck twenty-five hundred in my money clip and put it in my left pocket and knocked on his door.

He was a computer geek type, his house was spotless, and I could tell he was careful about placing stuff down in the exact right place. We went out to his garage. The light was dim as he hit the door opener, but as it got lighter I saw a creamy brown Mustang, gleaming there, a small red dot on the windshield up at top and a red jack ball touching it, hanging from the garage ceiling on a string. It’s the only way to know exactly where to park, I guess.

He got in it and started it. It fired right off, sounded really good, and looked even better. He backed it out on the driveway and then he did a walk around for me. He did all the work himself and he said it took a couple of years. He did a complete frame-off restoration. He rebuilt the motor and tranny, and put a new rear end in it. He upholstered the interior and did the paint and it all was superior work.

He was obviously proud of it, but he wanted to start on something new, and his wife wouldn’t let him start anything until he sold the Mustang. I drove it just to say I dd, I didn’t think there was a chance in hell he’d sell it for less than what he was asking.

It drove like a brand new car, no rattles, no squeaks, no wind noise, and had a brand new top-of-the-line stereo it it. The A/C was super cold and everything worked like it’s supposed to.

When we got back I walked around the car and did my little song and dance and told him I really wanted to buy it. I reached in my pocket and pulled out the twenty-five hundred out and said. “There’s twenty-five hundred, wish I could pay more, but that’s all I have.”

I was watching his face and I thought I saw relief, and then I knew I saw relief. He looked at me and said yes, that will be fine. He told me his wife had given him until today to sell it and he didn’t think it was going to happen. He was happy.

If I’da known, I woulda’ started at $1500. I took it home and we advertised it for $4900 and sold it to a doctor the first day for full price.