Go to any auto auction. Chances are you’ll see 2001 Accords and Camrys go for higher prices than 2003 Tauruses and Grand Prixs. Is that premium justified? Well, I’ll put it to you this way.
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Posts By: Steven Lang
Guess what happens to the car market between Labor Day and Thanksgiving? Nothing. Nobody buys cars unless they absolutely need to during this time. You have no shopping holidays. No ‘tax season’ with refunds aplenty. Not even a hint of any government windfall or pork barrel rolling down Capitol Hill. This is the time of year where 2009s and even 2008s will slowly make their march to the ‘deep’ discount aisle. Should you buy?
A 2005 Maserati Quattroporte to be exact. 35,000 showing on the odometer and no warranty whatsoever. The auctioneer drew down the bid in freefall fashion from $40K to $32K in the hopes that somebody—anybody—would bid on the garage queen. Finally, a dealer went for broke at $30K. Another joined in. The two duked it out to the exact tune of ‘hundred, hundred, half’ until the 67th bid came in. Of course by this time everyone was sick of looking at the exterior which can only be described as ‘Aqua Velva’ blue. The hammer fell and the four door Ferrari went to one of the nicest drug dealers in Atlanta (just kidding, Frank!). Seriously. It was a good buy—except for the fact that Maserati apparently won’t give extended warranties anymore. Now all Frank has to do is find a spare junk car at a salvage sale, a freelance Maserati mechanic (I’m sure we can all find one on Craigslist these days), and a Virgin Mary for the dashboard. Hmmmm . . . he had better make that a plastic Jesus.
I’m neither Republican nor Democrat. To paraphrase the late Frank Zappa, I realize that stupidity is indeed the building block of the political universe. Thanks to a long line of political careerists at all levels of our fair land, we now have speed limits laws that encourage a lack of respect for the law and a strong hatred for governments. We also have thousands of police officers who aren’t pursuing bad guys anymore. They’re busy being meter maids for the state. The same is true for code enforcement officials, toll booth collectors, and the ever lovable camera brigade. What’s the solution to all these unproductive resources that are used to subsidize our government’s (cross out safety) activities?
600 to 1500 miles a week. Some of you may consider this travel excessive, or, perhaps, bordering on the psychotic. In the auto remarketing business it’s a way of life. Wholesalers, auctioneers, ringmen, and managers of varying stripes all have to spend their time on the road. Auctions are often separated by several hours and states. Not to mention that the folks in the Great White North often have to travel to different provinces, upwards of 2000 miles a week, to get where they’re going. That’s a lot of time with a seat, a dashboard and a radio. You may think that a Camcord or some type of hyper-efficient vehicle would be the car of choice for so much travel . . . but you would be dead wrong.
Now that cash for clunkers has gone the way of GWB, used car values are plummeting in earnest. Last Monday, I visited three auctions in the metro-Atlanta area. Sale number one was without their two heavy hitters and prices were down a solid 10% across the board. 2008 Land Rover Discovery HSE with TV’s and 30k miles? $32,000. A few weeks ago it would have been closer to 36k. Sale two had fewer buyers than any time since November 2008. An immaculate 1991 Chevy Suburban with 142k went for only $700. A 1998 Trooper? $500. A 1997 Avalon with only 43k original miles and dealer maintained? That was the surprise. $5700. Tthat one was a dogfight, though, and it was one of the very few.
Youthful turns to Faithful, which eventually turns to Old Faithful, with the oil leaks to show. You’ve loved Old Faithful. But all around there are hotties and hussies that tempt you. Some are fun. Others are Chryslers. But the moment has come. It’s time to either fix or sell. What to do?
My wife has probably driven every single minivan and wagon model of the last six years. It all started with the second kid. Before that time, we always kept our rides as sporty and nimble as possible. We love driving. But when the wife was eight months pregnant with kid two, the thought of some ignorant Billy-Joe-Jim-Bob plowing into the progeny became too much to bear and so . . . we upsized. We found cupholders and comfort in the minivans. Flashbacks of sportiness in the Subarus. Luxury and strength in our Volvos. Finally my wife got fed up with playing musical cars and wanted a ‘keeper’. The requirements? The color silver, safe, economical, and . . . a hybrid? Enter the Civic.
No, we’re not talking about becoming the official web site for Michael Vick. This one involves two stronger dealers in a financial wrestling match. Yesterday afternoon there was a rarely used camper conversion van at the Carmax sale. The model year was 1993. It was a Chevy Van (of 1970s singing fame) with a mini fridge, plastic toilet, furnace and all the hookups you would need to go camping. A very nice package with only 43,000 original miles. The prior owner had been in the military and kept it all in tip-top shape. But then THEY arrived . . .
Well, I knew it was only a matter of time. Down in the furthest recesses of a new car dealer’s lot, I saw a line of vehicles with windshields covered in chalk. They all said the same thing: “C.A.R.S. Impound from K.O. Towing Company bought July.” There was a Ford Explorer, an Isuzu Rodeo, a purply swirly conversion van, and about 30 other bastard orphans. They were forsaken by their prior owners. Some voluntarily. Others perhaps on the influence of drug-laden stupidity. Then the real surprise came out . . .
Her aquatic face. Her distorted contortions . . . a Kermit Green 1998 Ford Taurus Wagon was coming through the auction lane. She had been loved by at least three other mommies and no doubt had an affair with at least a half dozen mechanics. She was big. She was beautiful. And for $600 she was mine. Then I put down the beer . . . “What the hell am I doing!” When the Carmax auction was all said and done, I had bought three cars that were the equivalent of automotive leprosy. The Taurus wagon was one of them of course. But the clean interior and Duratec engine took the sting out of that lapse of reason. She also drove well on the forty mile journey through Atlanta rush-hour traffic. This fat lady could apparently sing. But the other two?
I admit it. Freebies are awesome. Whether it’s a free portion of dim-sum in exchange for car advice, or a mowed lawn in exchange for storing industrial machinery at my auction holding yard. I relish the word free. To paraphrase Gordon Gecko, “Free is good!” and I’ll gladly Sawyer my way through the daily grind in pursuit of it. But there’s always a catch.
The bastards! I could deal with destroying the Cherokees, the Lincolns, even a Dynasty with a trombone case red interior. But a brick? These sick twisted bastards are going to take that one holy grail of tightwad functionality and turn it into a steaming pile of drek. Apparently the old Nordic God of automotive longevity is now on Washington’s ‘whacked’ list which means that defensive measures need to be taken. Stat!
Sajeev is lookin’ for a steenkin’ Lincoln. Well his dad is at least. They want a late model Town Car in black that hopefully, preferably, has less than 50k miles on it and a very certain trim level. It’s not an easy request for me to fulfill. Despite the fleet focus for this model, Ford has well over a dozen different trim combinations for TC’s (e.g., Signature, Limited, Cartier). Visits to the auction for this type of inventory are surprisingly rare. A few keystrokes. A secret password. And I get to see everything within a 100 mile radius. I find . . .
A 1994 Impreza for $25? Bought one back in 2003 with an auto tranny and all the paint stripped off. It needed a new battery and . . . that was it. I sold it on eBay for $1576 to a fellow who flew in from California and drove it all the way back to IOU-land. He was a rally coordinator for Subaru and although the car was going to be modified, it ended up slogging through So Cal traffic instead for another 50,000 miles. I’ve always wondered whether it would have been more profitable to keep it? Perhaps.
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