Hammer Time: Dogfight!

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 . . .

I knew there was something wrong when the keys were locked in the vehicle from the early get go. The buyers at Carmax were immediately on it. But even getting through the seal was a challenge due to the design of the door. I offered my New Jersey upbringing as a means for prying said lock. But that thing was tight. One of the dealers in the free for all waited about twenty minutes before the lock was prodded and the vehicle became open again. The heat index was 100°+ and this being the second long sale of the day, no one was in a happy mood.

In the meantime the sale started. 105 vehicles followed an orderly procession as the prices zoomed headlong into tax season levels. $2000 for a 1997 Plymouth Breeze with low miles and a bad engine? Sure! Another $2K for a base 1998 Grand Caravan with no rear air? Why the heck not. A 2000 Ford Contour that runs only on compressed natural gas for $1500. Okey-dokey. The larger buy here – pay here lots were trying to scavenge whatever they could and even the larger wholesalers found themselves on the defensive. It was clear I was going to become a true casual observer for most of the afternoon.

Then it happened. The van trudged through the lane with the auctioneer giving a very full description of the prior owner and the vehicle. The price went down . . . $7000, $6000, $5000 . . . all the way to $3000 until the van finally got the money. Five bidders became three bidders and by $3800 only two bidders remained in the fight. The first fellow gave the usual dealer stare with the finger pointed at themselves that says, “I’m on it. I want this one. Please leave it alone.” The second dealer gives an ear to ear grin pointing at his Dad which means, “I’m buying it for my Dad. He really wants it.” Dealer #1 mouthed out the word “Bullshit!” and the fight was on. The hundreds and fifties piled up until the second dealer became the winning bidder at $5650 (plus $200 auction fee).

Everyone was laughing, including the Dad, and only two fellows were oblivious to it all. Afterward the winning dealer told me he was really going to be keeping it for his Dad. But he told me the same exact line two months ago when we were dogfighting over a grey market Mercedes S-Class. I guess the old dogs of this business never get tired of using the same old tricks.