The Porsche was located about 20 minutes from me in Irvine. I arrived at the house to find the garage door open, car gone and another car parked behind the open space. The niece greeted me outside to inform me her uncle took the car for a spin. Why I thought this car was a garage queen owned by a man half in the funny bag, I don’t know. I mean, are you supposed to drive when you can’t remember stuff like directions or traffic laws? Maybe I need to know more about dementia.
The uncle pulled up and looked quite young actually. Nice full head of… oh it’s a rug. You play it well my Asian friend, you play it well. Polite introductions aside, we did a quick walk around and then got in the car for test drive. Everything was up to snuff aside from a trashed interior, the air not working and the brake warning light on (new pads were needed). I spent another 30-40 minutes looking over the car and talking with the uncle. I figured he was the final say in the sale of his car.
The niece checked in on us as well as her mom. They were curious as to my take on the car. The uncle had owned the car since 1991 and appeared to keep it well maintained. The last service record he had was a new clutch, full service with valve adjustment and some bushings. The rest of the records were in his safe… which he forgot the combination to. The niece had to put in a call to his son to get the combination. The title was in there too.
The niece was clearly out of her element selling this type of car. But we all agreed that I would buy the car based on seeing the records and would come back on Saturday when they’d have the safe open. I asked if she wanted a deposit to hold the car. She said no and assured me the car was mine. Why did I have a sinking feeling then?
I called her on Friday to see what time was good for her on Saturday. 2PM. She had a call into the uncle’s son in New York for the combination to the safe. The uncle told me he originally bought the car for his son as a graduation present from doctor school. The kid didn’t want the car when he moved away and eventually bought his own Porsche in NY. If he didn’t want the car, then why was he on-fire-pissed when the niece told him they sold the car for $10K. I’m not sure either. But apparently it was enough for them to call off the sale on Saturday and break their word to me.
Sure, I beat myself up over not having something signed on Thursday. I had the flippin’ paperwork in my truck ready to go. But I didn’t want to push because they seemed so nice and genuine. Would a signed piece of paper really have changed the deal? I don’t know. All I know is that my sure fire flip was a flop and now I’m looking for another Carrera.