See, there is this guy with a Fiat for sale, lives right around the corner from him.
Been advertising it for months.
Dropped the price a few times.
"New paint and body work in 03!" says the ad.
Wants two grand for it.
Now, of course I don't have 2 large. It's repetive to say, neither does Fred.
But ya gotta look!
So I call the guy, and we tom-tom our way over in my 81. Mostly because Fred's 77 has a leak in the gas tank, some idjit sent him the wrong part for the Milano, the Graduate is reduced to it's component molecules, and even the VW Cabriolet is not starting consistently. Damn all German relays in convertibles, anyway!
We get there, and the car looks pretty good. A nice red. Probably not a Fiat color, but still, bella!
And mine needs some serious body work, due to a bad tire. The story is elsewhere in the archives.
Did I mention I don't have any money?
Ah, ya gotta look!
Further inspection of the okay looking paint reveals that it is bubbling and puffing in all the usual spots. Somebody, and I hope he goes to a special place for it, had painted over the rust spots without doing that little thing we like to call "work" first. "Whaddy think?" I ask the man with the long checkered past with 30 year old sea-dwelling wrecks.
Fred ponders for a moment. "Eh, it'll come and bite ya on the ass, if you don't jump on it in a year or two. But it will buy you some time. And we can fix the rot, and they can blend it the paint in those areas. It's do-able."
So we putz about with the car, and the erstwhile owner tells us that he thinks the battery is dead, cause it would not start for the last guy who looked at it, who was standing there with the check book open.
So we are in the process of looking under the thing, and I say, sotto voiche, to Fred, "Hey is that a belt hanging there? " "Nah, I don't see anything.' "Come over this side, take a look."
Sure enough, alternator belt, hanging in the breeze.
So, being idiots, we point it out, and start fussing with it, trying to get the belt on.
See if we can start this thing, and get it running.
Now about this time, we start asking to borrow some ratchets and sockets, cause my stuff happens to be in the truck.
And he starts bringing out a driver, and sockets.
Standard. And big spark plug sockets.
And it dawns on me.
This guy is a worse wrench-turner than I am.
So we run out of time, and we chat a bit, and I tell him I am still interested, but would have to come up with some scratch.
Ya gotta look, right?
And then we go about our day.
Except later, this other guy sees my car, and starts offering money for it. "I'll buy it from you!"" he yells at me. "I gotta brother, owns a body shop! I want this car! How much you want?"
"Want? Gimme 5 grand, you can drive it home"
"FIVE GRAND? That car isn't worth five grand!"
"Hey, you asked bow much did I WANT. The car is WORTH about 2."
"Anh, that's too much."
"See that top? Original, numbered Pannin-Farina, my good man. That's worth a grand alone right there." (No, I am not telling him I paid a thousand for it two years ago, before the tire incident that macked up the driver's side rear.)
So we go back and forth a bit. I'm not really into selling my car, but if I can clear two large on it, I can buy the red one for probably $1700 and have enough for a new rag top, which it needs. And so, of course, does mine. I'm just trying to horse trade my way out from under all this extra body work. So I start going down the laundry list with him, and it's fine with me if he takes it to his mechanic, and yeah the soft top is shot, and the temp gauge is acting up, and the synchro in third gear crunches. Oh, and it needs a new heater core, and lemme see, the radio doesn't work I think there is a bad ground, the cigarette lighter stopped working at the same time. Might be an extra fuse for those two things.........
"Hey, this car needs a lot of work."
"Yeah, just like the one I looked at this morning. Only I don't have a brother with a body shop. That's what you are getting into with a car this old. You want me to clam up and make you feel better or you want full disclosure? It's sold as-is, either way."
So, to make a long story end, at last, I realize the guy is drunk at 10 AM. The first hint was when he sat in it, started it up, played around a bit, and turned off the key. Three minutes later, I am DIVING across the parking lot, chasing my car, cause the new owner did'nt put it back in gear. Thank God it didn't hit another parked car.
So I gave him my cell phone, and if he remembers the conversation, he might call me back.
See what happens when you look?
