Post by Ozarks Tom on Dec 16, 2016 23:58:56 GMT
A few memories of selling cars.
In 1969 I worked for a few months selling new Chevrolets. I was fairly good at it, but knew it wasn’t something I wanted to do forever. One day a “hippy” looking guy, long hair and scraggly beard drove his old Corvair onto the lot. Being the eternal optimist, I greeted him like he was an old friend, making small talk as I showed him around. It turned out he didn’t have a lot of money, but he did have a smart mouth. He mentioned he’d been in the navy, gotten out a couple years previous. I mentioned I’d been army, been out a few years. He said “from the looks of your haircut you got out yesterday”.
Well, back then my temper was a bit short, so I considered punching him. Then I realized if I punched him the swelling and bruising would be gone in a few days, but if I sold him the “right” car, he’d be hurting for years.
Like most dealerships, there was one car on the lot used in advertising as “bait”. This particular one was a Chevy Malibu, yellow with light green interior, no air, 6 cylinder, stick shift. They used it in their ads week after week at a ridiculously low price knowing nobody in their right mind would buy it, but it got customers on the lot.
I went to work on him, extolling the virtues of driving a 6 cylinder stick, told him we could put a “hang down” AC under the dash, I could get him “extended” financing (36 months was standard, but if I could get him into a 48 month note he’d be buried in it until he made the last payment). He bought it.
As he drove it off the lot I was surprised to be much more satisfied than if I’d punched him.
While selling new cars, I saw how little people got trading in their old cars. Realizing there was margin to be made, I got a used car dealer’s license. It seems like I always had a side gig going until I started my own business in flooring.
I knew “coast” cars were rust buckets, but Dallas cars were clean of corrosion. I’d take another guy or two with me to the Ft Worth Auto Auction, and buy 4 to 6 old cars in the $800 price range wholesale, then we’d tow bar them down to Corpus Cristi. An $800 car in Dallas would bring $1100 - $1200 in Corpus.
One night at the Auction I’d gotten hungry and gone to get a hot dog, and when I got back they were selling a good looking little Chevy II. Usually if I was interesting in a car I’d go inspect it, but this one was already on the block. I started bidding, surprised when I got it for $300. I went on to buy a couple more cars, and after the auction we went out to the lot to round them up. We walked all the way out to the end, but couldn’t find that darned little Chevy II. Looping back towards the auction barn on the next row I finally saw it. My gosh, how could I have missed it? It was sitting prominently on the corner of the first row!
Well, it turned out the reason I didn’t see it before was because the side I’d seen the first time looked like it had been slammed sideways into a concrete wall at high speed – wiped out from bumper to bumper. Suffice it to say I didn’t make any money on that one.
I knew a used car dealer in Corpus who’d buy just about anything I brought him. One day I pulled onto his lot with a few old cars, but couldn’t find him. I called his name several times, then finally heard a reply from his shop area. I went back there, and saw a pair of legs sticking out from under a car. I told him who I was and what I’d brought, and he said he’d be out in a minute, would I hand him the leather belt laying on the ground. I threw it under the car to him, I could see he was cutting the belt into short pieces, and asked what he was doing. He said “putting new main bearings in this thing”. I asked him how far it would go with leather mains, and he replied “all the way across the border”.
Being in the used car business I met all sorts of people in various ends of the business. Some honest as the day is long, others you wouldn’t trust with a brick. One of my favorites was “Fearless Freddy”, a repo man. Not an impressive man to look at, maybe 5’10”, 160#, but with his nerve he could have been a tightrope walker. His specialty was getting cars back for “Tote the Note” lots, whose clientele shall we say were for the most part “sketchy”. He usually didn’t start work until midnight or later, snatching cars until the sun came up. He’d been cut, shot at, beaten, and generally made to feel unwelcome several times, but he could make around $200 a night. The last time I saw him he told me he was getting out of the business, his wife was pressuring him. He said he was going to work for a bail bondsman, scooping up bail jumpers. Didn’t seem like much of an improvement to me.
In 1969 I worked for a few months selling new Chevrolets. I was fairly good at it, but knew it wasn’t something I wanted to do forever. One day a “hippy” looking guy, long hair and scraggly beard drove his old Corvair onto the lot. Being the eternal optimist, I greeted him like he was an old friend, making small talk as I showed him around. It turned out he didn’t have a lot of money, but he did have a smart mouth. He mentioned he’d been in the navy, gotten out a couple years previous. I mentioned I’d been army, been out a few years. He said “from the looks of your haircut you got out yesterday”.
Well, back then my temper was a bit short, so I considered punching him. Then I realized if I punched him the swelling and bruising would be gone in a few days, but if I sold him the “right” car, he’d be hurting for years.
Like most dealerships, there was one car on the lot used in advertising as “bait”. This particular one was a Chevy Malibu, yellow with light green interior, no air, 6 cylinder, stick shift. They used it in their ads week after week at a ridiculously low price knowing nobody in their right mind would buy it, but it got customers on the lot.
I went to work on him, extolling the virtues of driving a 6 cylinder stick, told him we could put a “hang down” AC under the dash, I could get him “extended” financing (36 months was standard, but if I could get him into a 48 month note he’d be buried in it until he made the last payment). He bought it.
As he drove it off the lot I was surprised to be much more satisfied than if I’d punched him.
While selling new cars, I saw how little people got trading in their old cars. Realizing there was margin to be made, I got a used car dealer’s license. It seems like I always had a side gig going until I started my own business in flooring.
I knew “coast” cars were rust buckets, but Dallas cars were clean of corrosion. I’d take another guy or two with me to the Ft Worth Auto Auction, and buy 4 to 6 old cars in the $800 price range wholesale, then we’d tow bar them down to Corpus Cristi. An $800 car in Dallas would bring $1100 - $1200 in Corpus.
One night at the Auction I’d gotten hungry and gone to get a hot dog, and when I got back they were selling a good looking little Chevy II. Usually if I was interesting in a car I’d go inspect it, but this one was already on the block. I started bidding, surprised when I got it for $300. I went on to buy a couple more cars, and after the auction we went out to the lot to round them up. We walked all the way out to the end, but couldn’t find that darned little Chevy II. Looping back towards the auction barn on the next row I finally saw it. My gosh, how could I have missed it? It was sitting prominently on the corner of the first row!
Well, it turned out the reason I didn’t see it before was because the side I’d seen the first time looked like it had been slammed sideways into a concrete wall at high speed – wiped out from bumper to bumper. Suffice it to say I didn’t make any money on that one.
I knew a used car dealer in Corpus who’d buy just about anything I brought him. One day I pulled onto his lot with a few old cars, but couldn’t find him. I called his name several times, then finally heard a reply from his shop area. I went back there, and saw a pair of legs sticking out from under a car. I told him who I was and what I’d brought, and he said he’d be out in a minute, would I hand him the leather belt laying on the ground. I threw it under the car to him, I could see he was cutting the belt into short pieces, and asked what he was doing. He said “putting new main bearings in this thing”. I asked him how far it would go with leather mains, and he replied “all the way across the border”.
Being in the used car business I met all sorts of people in various ends of the business. Some honest as the day is long, others you wouldn’t trust with a brick. One of my favorites was “Fearless Freddy”, a repo man. Not an impressive man to look at, maybe 5’10”, 160#, but with his nerve he could have been a tightrope walker. His specialty was getting cars back for “Tote the Note” lots, whose clientele shall we say were for the most part “sketchy”. He usually didn’t start work until midnight or later, snatching cars until the sun came up. He’d been cut, shot at, beaten, and generally made to feel unwelcome several times, but he could make around $200 a night. The last time I saw him he told me he was getting out of the business, his wife was pressuring him. He said he was going to work for a bail bondsman, scooping up bail jumpers. Didn’t seem like much of an improvement to me.
