The anxiety is palpable. People are pressed together, but unable to hold still. Their energy charges the air with electricity. I rub my forehead and try not to stare at the growing crowd. If the whole day is like this, I'm going to get a migraine.
The cars are lined up outside the huge metal doors. Over five lanes of cars to be auctioned at the same time. I look through the list again, noting a few that I wouldn't mind taking home. I try to keep the lanes and numbers in order, but it's near impossible.
The first car brought in is a slightly used, black, Chevrolet Camero SS. It's gorgeous, and obviously a hit for the auction, as bidders crowd the first lane. The dealers jockey for a good viewing position. Some are close enough to get their toes ran over. The man behind the wheel does well under pressure, and brings it to a precise stop in front of the auction block.
Smiles are exchanged, hands are raised, and the auction begins.
Voices shout over the noise, and prices increase. It looks like a race. Everyone wants a chance at winning.
The Camero sales for over thirty thousand, a bid that's barely below retail. I wonder if that buyer is feeling the Winner's Curse yet.
The rest of the cars slowly pull up to the auction stop, but none draw the same attention.
Amy, the dealer I came to the auction with, doesn't get caught up in the fury. She scans her list and points out vehicles I wouldn't have noticed. She bids on a few, but never on one that she wouldn't own herself.
An unexpected surprise. An unlisted car pulls into the third auction bay. She jumps up and says she'll be right back.
I glance out the floor to ceiling glass windows, the only thing holding potential buyers from overrunning the auction, and catch sight of a bright blue, convertible, Ford Mustang. My breath catches. It's a dream car. Much flashier than the Camero. But where are all the bidders?
Amy comes back inside, tells me the car is in excellent condition, has low miles, and since other dealers are distracted with their previous purchases, it will probably go for a good price.
I didn't intend on buying a sports car today, but know my husband would love this one. We've actually discussed this exact car multiple times in the last couple months. What a surprise it would be if I brought it home to him.
I tell her to go ahead and bid, as long as it doesn't go too high.
The bidding begins. My heart rate picks up. I wring my hands, trying to rid myself of the nervous tension. Then I realize she's the only bidder. The owner approaches her. They appear to be discussing the car. My tension rises another notch.
Amy comes back with a big smile on her face. "Congratulations! You're the proud new owner of that amazing car. And, better yet, the owner had a minimum bid, and it looks like the price will be the same."
The rest of the day drags by, as we wait for the auction to finish so we can go get our purchase.
I'm a touch apprehensive as the auction finally ends. I've never purchased a car without touching, let alone driving it first. But I try to put on a good face, hiding my nervousness.
Buyers are welcomed into the lot. Hundreds of cars are parked in lines, but the bright blue Mustang stands out. It's like a blue M & M in the middle of chocolate. I can't take my eyes off it. With the new design, the car looks sleek, like it could roar into action at a moments notice.
My husband, scratch that, I really like this car. We're going to be arm wrestling over who gets to drive it.
"How do you like it?" The dealer asks, starting the engine. It growls to life, like a bear being woken from a winter's slumber.
"Better than anticipated."
"It's a V-6, but has a turbo, so it'll get up and go plenty fast."
I glance inside, noting the black leather seats and crome trim. This is a car that belongs in the city, getting admiration and applause.
"I don't know how it'll do on the back roads though..."
The dirt road we live on has bumps and holes. Maneuvering around them will be quite the feat, but I'm willing to take it on.
Amy smiles. "Want to take it for a drive?"
I can't hold back my answering smile as I hop in the drivers seat.
A car pulls up beside us. To my surprise, it's the black Camero. The driver rolls down his window and motions me to do the same.
"Nice ride." He nods toward my car.
"You too."
"It'll do." He shrugs and changes the subject. "Where you taking her?"
What is it with men and calling cars women? "Island Park, Idaho."
He smiles. "Wanna take her out for a spin before you hide her away in the mountains? The interstate's less than a mile away. I'm sure you need to fill up on gas too, and there's a station at the next exit."
His reasoning is sound. I do need to get gas, the gage reads less than a quarter tank.
I glance over at Amy, who sits in the passenger seat. She holds up her hands like she's innocent. "It's not up to me."
My chest bubbles with the same enthusiasm that's been infecting the auction all day. It makes me brave. "Sure, why not?"
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