In this Tales From The Garage it is déjà vu all over again. It is 7:30 am, foggy and overcast, and I am standing alone on a residential street waiting for a car carrier to arrive. Perfectly quiet. One dog walker walks by and waves a friendly hello. I am suddenly transported back to the morning of June 12, 1978. Standing, again alone, in the parking lot of the Honda Dealership in Central Pennsylvania, waiting for the car carrier to arrive so I can have my “pick of the litter” of newly arriving 1978 Accords. Between those two mornings stood 42 years, a lifetime. What tied them together was the anticipation of a new car, except now, old was new again.
Of all the car crazy things I have done over the years I think this one just might be the most unusual. My first new car was a 1978 Honda Accord. For details of that adventure, see GSM #44, Summer 2018, “You’re The One That I Want.” Forty-two years is a long time for an original-owner car. As we all know, older cars require parts and the older the car, most times, the more unobtainium the parts. Early Hondas were just transportation and, for the most part, they still are. Rare as collectables. Sourcing parts gets harder and harder each year as new parts are not manufactured and salvage cars are long gone. I knew deep inside that I really needed a “parts” car. Like having a sister, so you know you will always have a kidney if you need one.
Over the years I have watched the internet for available cars. When found, they usually were rusted hulks sitting outside slowly dissolving into the earth. Nothing worth saving except a memory.
Then it happened. While I was scrolling through Bring A Trailer it appeared. A 1978 Honda Accord LX with only two owners and full service records. I did a classic double take and took a second look. Really? Can this be? A very clean, running and driving car just like mine and, according to the VIN’s, born moments apart. Separated at birth? Too good for parts? Or, dare I say it? Mine becomes the donor kidney?
I have always sworn that I would never buy a car “sight unseen.” Always felt it was too risky and a setup for disappointment. But now I was intrigued. The seller was a dealer in classic cars in Northern California who had a long and stellar reputation for selling cars a lot more expensive than the humble Accord. I took this as good sign. Why would a dealer risk its reputation on an inexpensive car by misrepresenting it? The description on BAT was perfect. Two hundred and twenty-seven photos, a driving video, a cold start video and various paint meter readings. Pretty hard to hide defects with this type of transparency.
I sent the link to my mechanic for a second set of eyes to examine the car. I also called the selling dealer with a hundred questions. He was great and had just finished driving the car fifty miles that day. What better testimony.
The car was in California but not really close enough to have a personal inspection. So the decision to register to bid on Bring A Trailer was based solely on photos, videos and a great comment section. This is where anyone who has even looked at a 1978 Honda Accord chimes in with an opinion. The peanut gallery loved this car. I started to get concerned, anticipating heavy bidding.
I have been to, and participated in, enough auctions in my life to know that you do not bid low and early. No point. You know what the “value” is and the car is not going to sell for a few hundred dollars so the role of “bottom feeders” goes to amateurs. We all know that the real bidding usually occurs in the last twenty minutes or so. Earlier if it is a highly desirable car with many bidders.
Having never bought a car on BAT before, I did my research for previous recent sales to see where this car was most likely to end up. This is only a range since condition, mileage and history all play a part. Higher mileage cars that are well maintained are generally better than lower mileage poorly maintained cars. The temptation to go for the lower mileage cars is great but all those seals and gaskets are just waiting to give out the first time you really drive it.
Auctions create adrenaline. Cars create adrenaline. Together they are the espresso of adrenaline. You get caught up in the moment and hundreds, even thousands, of dollars just zip by with the click of a mouse. You must have some discipline. What is your number? What is your limit? If you don’t have this at the tip of your mouse-fingering finger, then you are most likely to overpay. Buyer’s remorse knocks at your door.
Since I had been looking for this car for many years I did have a number in mind and knew that since I had not personally seen or driven this car, I was unlikely to exceed my limit. Adrenaline is the devils hormone after all.
As predicted, bidding was slow and in small $100 increments. The real bidders were all hiding. We waited. As the clock counted down, one by one we emerged like bandits riding down hard onto the unsuspecting stagecoach, guns blazing.
There is a technique in auction bidding that works remarkably well. It is called “jumping the bid,” meaning that if your competitors are raising the bid by $100 jumps, you jump the bid by $500 dollars. This tends to push other bidders away, in that they think they can continue at $100 dollar clips. You are raising the stakes quickly. If you truly know your number, why waste time getting there? Jumping the bid works even better if you do it quickly in succession. The message is clear: I am the buyer, get out of my way. The longer you wait between bids, the more you are telling your competition that you are “thinking” about it. Don’t think. Buy!
This is how I lost my BAT virginity with my first “IVP” (Internet Vehicle Purchase). I am happy to report it was a terrific experience. A great seller who, in this case happened to be a classic car dealer and a car that was 100 percent in person as reported and presented. In many ways it was better.
When the car carrier turned the corner and drove toward me, I felt all the excitement of the same morning 42 years ago. Except this time, it was my first “new” old car that had arrived.
– Rodney Kemerer
