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As you read in this column last month, the search for a Speedster goes on. I know that I don't need one what with Blackie sitting downstairs in the garage but after that close call (alright it wasn't that close) on Ebay last month, I just had to keep looking. I found a couple of other 356's locally but they were projects that went off to new owners to complete and that helped fuel up the car fund. Watching Ebay with cars that had phone numbers for reserve prices was discouraging but two weeks ago a red Speedster showed up on a ten day auction. The red car was a late T1 which meant that it had the later teardrop tail lights and was updated with disc brakes and a B engine. The seller had never taken a marketing class as the only photo looked like a photo of a photo and the entire description was only two sentences long. I figured that even with the 911 alloys and a rollbar this running outlaw was going to go for real money. I put it on my watch list but only to see where it finished. The auction ended at $43k which didn't meet reserve and that made me look even closer. There was a correct serial number; it didn't look like a replica in the grainy photo so I emailed the seller to have him call me. A week later he called with the whole story, and what a story it was. He said that he had put up the car as collateral on a real estate deal with his best friends father. The California property didn't move as planned and he was ten months behind on the payments. The lender, in his late seventies, wanted the money before he died and had put the owner on notice that it was going to a local repair shop to see if they would buy it. When the shop came back with an offer that was less than half the market value and didn't cover the debt, the owner asked if he could list the car on Ebay. The photo was off a cell phone and the text was short because he was "in a hurry". Some answers to other questions were not comforting but the red mist was starting to cloud my vision. Since there was only one photo I asked him to send some others which he said he would. They never came. I asked what type of exhaust was on the car, stock or extractor and he said that he didn't know. This was from a guy that said that he had been driving the car for the last five years. Not a good sign. I asked if the ID plate with the serial number was still on the drivers hinge plate and he didn't know. Finally at the end of the week he called to say that the car was no longer available because the lender had told the shop that had the car that they could have it. He had run out of patience. When I pointed out that I would pay enough to cover his debt (still less than 2/3 of market valve - if it was real) he suggested that I call the lender. I called and left a message but that was it, another opportunity lost. Oh well, there would be others but that little car sure looked sweet. Even if was only what looked like a picture of a picture through a glass jar. The next day, Friday, the old guy called me as I was taking the commuter ride home in the afternoon. We discussed the situation and I pointed out that he wouldn't have to continue to chase his son’s friend if he took my offer. He relented but only if I could wire the funds into his Bank of America account that day. I said that wasn't possible because our wire transfer shuts down at 2 PM and it was after 3. However I do have an account at the same bank and suggested that I could walk into a local branch and authorize a transfer for a 20% deposit and finish it on Monday. That worked remarkably easy. This fellow was getting easier and easier to work with, not a good sign. I was either a great salesman or I was the softest mark on the planet. The task at the bank was like a three stooges movie. By the time I got through the first three vice presidents and to the branch manager it was 4 PM, their cutoff time. She got the seller on the phone and it took another ten minutes to get him to give up his account number. You can never be too safe, even if you're running a scam. I did have the presence of mind to ask the guy to fax a copy of the pink slip (title in California) to us at the bank but then even I could make those look legit. The banks fax machine must have been an old one but I could make out the VIN and owners name so I pulled the trigger on the transfer. The money finally got sucked out of my account at 4:30 and I went home to think about what I'd just done. In fact I had the entire weekend to wrestle with buyer’s remorse. Let's see, I had just wired a lot of money to a guy that didn't own a car that I hadn't seen and that the real owner had difficulty describing. Boy, I'm an idiot. The weekend dragged until I finally got some additional photos of the car via email. They helped a little but as expected raised more questions. The car was really shiny, sat right (not like a kit car), and was equipped with Speedster seats. However the SC engine was pictured with zenith carbs (wrong), there was an antenna on the wrong side of the car and no radio, the tach had the wrong redline on it for a Speedster, and the shifter was from a 356B/C car (all Speedsters are 356A's). As Sunday faded into night I came across an episode of "Hustle" on cable which is like a modern edition of The Sting with Robert Redford. I couldn't help watching as the team smoothly scammed a fellow out of millions and then disappeared into thin air. Everything that the mark suggested played right into their plan and when it was over he didn't have a clue who they were or where they came from or went. Sorta like the two on the left coast that I only knew by cell phone numbers (throwaways?) and a fax from Copy Cop somewhere in southern LaLa land. For all I knew they were in this together and on a beach somewhere with my money. I was a wreak. I had to do something before the last wire was due. Over the years I had developed some contacts on the west coast and one of them was Pete McNulty who lived in Dana Point, CA and organized the annual 356 concours there. It was far too late to get an inspection done but I was hoping that he might know the car. I had to wait until noon our time to call the coast and the clock was ticking on the wire cutoff of 3:00 PM. I got Pete on the first try and while we had never met he had some time to spend on the phone. I really couldn't tell him the whole sordid tale, I'd look like an idiot, so I just asked him if he knew of a Speedster in his town in red with 911 alloys and a roll bar on it. He said that he had seen the car the night before in a parking lot where he had gone to pick up some steaks for dinner. Seems that he hadn't been across town to that spot in years but his wife had insisted that he make the trip. As he drove in with his '63 356 coupe a fellow in a red Speedster pulled up a few spaces down and walked over to chat. He said that the guy was a real space shot and started off on this story of how this was his last ride in the red convertible because he had lost it in a real estate deal that went bad and it was going to a guy in Boston. Some days things just go your way. I thanked Pete for his trouble and quickly had the rest of the money sent. I called the old fellow and told him that the balance would be there by 4:00 PM and that I'd have the car picked up the next day. Of course I acted like I do this all the time and there was never a concern. The fact that the owner looked like Redford in one of the photos he sent had me humming The Sting for a week. A transport company that I've used before was only a few towns away and unoccupied, what luck. The Speedster was snatched up the next morning and driven into my son Rob's garage in Phoenix before dark the same day. I told Rob to call me the minute that it arrived so that he could do an inspection with me on the phone. We were doing fine until he opened the front hood and said the inside panels looked pretty rough and sounded like fiberglass. My heart stopped. We hadn't even gotten to the undercarriage yet. I held my breath while Rob found a magnet and confirmed that the panels were the original steel parts with some rough factory undercoating still in place after 49 years. It only got better from there. No, there wasn't a gold bar under the seat but this rare car was in great shape. The only problem that I have now is Rob. Seems he's taken a real liking to the car after driving it some and doesn't want to wait to inherit Blackie. He's finally found out that it's a lot more fun to drive a slow car fast than a fast car slow. Question is what are we going to do about the price? KTF |
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