The car bizz is full of snakes, and the swamp is deep. I used to wholesale cars. I bought cars from dealers and re-sold them mostly to other dealers, either face to face or at a dealer auction. Back in the late eighties one of my honey holes was a Dodge/Chrysler dealer in S. Lake Tahoe. Tahoe is a near two hour drive from Sacramento and is not a recommended drive at all when the weather is bad, so not many wholesalers went to service the small town dealers there. But I drove up there once a week to see what they had and I’d usually buy a car or two. I even helped them close a few deals when I was there, by buying the trade-in. Plus the dealer’s daughter was drop-dead gorgeous and we usually would go to one of the casinos and have lunch when I was there.

One day I was there I made a point to stop in and see a few of the other dealers in town. There was a Chevy guy who took all his trades to the auction in Sacramento and a big used car lot who I sold a few cars to every once in a while. And a Subaru/Nissan franchise. I stopped there late afternoon.

It was a small store and there were no cars in the shop and no customers anywhere. In fact, I had a hard time tracking down anyone to talk to about buying some cars. I hung out in the showroom for a while and finally, a guy walked out of one of the office doors. He was young, obviously a car salesman, and had on bright checked trousers, and his faux silk shirt was unbuttoned down about three from the top. I imagined I could see a whiff of white powder in his nostril. I asked who was in charge of wholesale business. He mumbled something and turned around and went back in the door he came out of.

He came back out with another guy, who looked eerily similar and introduced me to the “owner” of the store. His cocaine dust was clearly visible and his eyes were rolling. He talked a lot. He was great, he was even gooder than great, and he shook hands like a real man, sales man, macho sales man. I was duly impressed.

He did, however, have some rides he wanted to sell and he went back in his office or where ever the mirror and powder was and returned shortly with a handwritten list of cars, with stock numbers and info about them and a price. He handed me the list and a keyboard with twenty or so keys on it. The list had about twenty cars on it too. On more investigation, I found out that was his whole inventory of used cars. And after a short conversation, I also found out he was not really the owner. He was the owner’s son. His mother owned the dealership and she had acquired it in the divorce the previous year. He,  the entitled son, ran the place or at least ran it into the ground.

She came out too and met me. And I guess she had given him permission to do business with me. I got the impression this would be a desperation sale. They needed money. I went out to look at the cars. It took a long time, and it was getting dark when I had my list all together and went to find my boy. He was even higher by then and we sat down to make a deal.

I picked out the ones I really wanted to buy, probably ten or so, and crossed his little numbers ou on the list he had handed me and wrote in some starting numbers. He told me, “You have to buy all of them. My Mom won’t let you cherry pick.” Some of those cars weren’t worth towing back to Sacramento or even the local dump . I just looked at him and picked up my list, looked at it for a couple of minutes. I folded it up and stuck it in my pocket and stood up, looked at his red eyes and told him “Thanks, nice to meet you.” And headed for the door.

He started hemming and hawing and whining, and when I looked back at him, he was almost crying. It must have been harder than hell for him to let his guard down and confess his desperation, but he did.

I told him I would buy some cars, but I wasn’t buying anything that didn’t run. And we went back to the drawing board. I did buy one car that didn’t run, but I used to always tow a car dolly behind my van so I could tow it back. I knew what the problem with it was and it was an easy fix. I bought eight or nine cars from them. A few of the cars were really good and, save the one I towed back, were front line cars and I made a pretty good deal. I sold them all for profit. But, I didn’t save the dealership from the junk heap.

Two weeks later I went to my honey hole there and they told me the Subaru point had closed. I went by on my way out of town and all the new cars were gone and the only cars left were the junk cars I’d passed on. I bought the last used cars that dealership ever sold. I wondered what happened to those people. The dealership had been successful and had made a living for them for a long time before the divorce. Mom and son lost it all.