2521 Not my car, darn it.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Every great idea I have gets me in trouble.

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I opened an email about an hour ago from the auction house I frequent, and found this:
It's a Porsche 911 SC. The email didn't say anything about it other than the photo. It will be auctioned off Saturday evening, Aug. 1, along with a few hundred other items. I could tell from the photo that it's out back behind the auction hall.

This place regularly auctions off things like three-year-old BMWs for much less than $20,000. The furniture goes high, but the cars are always a steal, because they come from estates, there's no warranty, and you have to pay for it that evening.

My mind went into overdrive. I was trying to figure out how I could get my favorite mechanic to look at it, wondering if I'd be allowed to take it for an hour or so to get it up on a lift (probably not), if I alerted Piper on Monday would he be able to cut me a check from the money market account in time for the auction, and at the same time I was pulling a shirt on and heading out to look at it. It was parked only two miles from my house.

Sadness. It's at least 20 years old, possibly more. The interior smells of motor oil. They have it covered with a tarp under a stretchy sweater, because it's sitting there with the top down. (Of course I crawled under the tarp.) Top down is a bit suspicious, especially with all the rain we've been having. From the rear it looks sexy, but the front is weird looking - the hood drops straight down and the headlights look like they're in torpedo tubes.
Nah, I'll pass. But it was nice thinking about it.

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It's raining as I write this. Just started. The thunder is so loud the house actually, literally, jumps from it. Scary.
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