Auction Dreams

In the old days, hereinafter referred to as “The Good Old Days”, meaning, of course, as far back as I can remember, with all the bad parts filtered out, leaving us with the operative term “old”, government entities of the city, county and state persuasions who had built up fleets of vehicles were required by ordinance to dispose of the unwanted parts of said fleets by way of public auctions.  Those of us who spent their time maintaining and repairing those fleets were well aware of the fact that, due to fleet management practices then in vogue, quite often those vehicles were sent to auction after a pre-planned number of miles were accumulated, or years in service realized, when they were still in good shape, with many miles still to come.  That is why, if you were at one of the auctions, you could look around and recognize many of your fellow employees, often with bidder numbers in hand.

We were not alone in this, of course.  In TGOD, many a taxi fleet was built on out-of-service police cars, from the Dodge Diplomats through the Chevy Caprices to the Ford Crown Vics, a nationwide trend, with the taxi fleets reflecting the makeup of the local police department cruisers with about a two-year lag, a process that continues today, though Priuses have supplanted Police cruisers in many cases, and the Uber drivers of the world encouraged to buy Camrys and Hondas instead.

There is a certain excitement to be had as the successful bidder at an auction, and after a few years I had it down to a science.  One year, for example, the State Patrol was auctioning off a small fleet of Harleys down at the GSA warehouse complex off C street south of Auburn, and I was busy at an ABATE function outside of Cle Elum, so I coached my wife to go to the auction and bid for us.

“Here’s how you do it,” I said, before I left on Friday. “Get there nice and early, get your bidder number, then go check out the bikes.  I have learned that the first one to sell is usually cheaper than the ones that follow, because people get excited, and bid more and more as the supply dwindles.  So that’s the one you set your mind on, and here’s how it will go.”  In this case, we set the price we were willing to pay for a 1980 Harley FLH at $1800, in 1983.  “Count backwards from 1800 in fifty dollar increments about six times, which brings you to 1550.  Typically, the auctioneer will try to get the bidding to jump in $100 increments after the initial rush, and will ask for 50 if they can’t get 100.  Ideally, you are waiting for the bids to slow down, then jump in at the even 100 after the first $50 jump has been bid.  Then, when the opposing bidder raises it another $50, you counter immediately at the next $100, with no hesitation or delay.  Usually, after two or three of those, if the auction is down to you and one other bidder, you will have led them to believe you are willing to pay whatever it takes to get that bike, and they will drop out and leave you holding the high bid, and you win!”

And that’s how it worked out in this case.  A friend showed up at the run site Sunday morning who I knew was planning on attending the auction and told me some woman bought the first bike that sold, which was how I learned we had added another Harley to the stable.  That one proved to be a pretty nice bike, for an old Shovelhead.

I used that technique many times over the years, on cars and trucks and motorcycles, mostly successfully.  Sometimes you just get outbid, and you have to drop out when your limit arrives and let it go.  Other times, strange things can happen.

I remember one particular auction in Auburn, for the state again this time, and we were looking for a truck.  The first pickup to be offered, an old Dodge with lots of miles and severe dents on all surfaces, came up, and the auctioneer started out with a typical ploy, “Who’ll give me $1000 for this fine piece of equipment?”  Some rookie in the audience got excited and raised his hand.  “I will!”  The auctioneer smiled, as a titter of laughter swept through the crowd, and went into his spiel: “Okay, I have $1000, who’ll give me $1200?”  Nothing from the crowd.  “How about $1100, now $1100, bid 11… how about $1050?  $1000 is bid, now $1050… 1050… 1050… sold, for $1000!”  That’s how you know you paid way too much, if your first bid is the last one.  Live and learn…

Another time, this one a Harley Auction for King County, held in a yard at the north end of Boeing Field, demonstrates how the forces of the universe, Lady Luck, or one’s own personal Karma can ebb and flow, with unpredictable results.  My buddy and I had decided to buy one or two 1973 Harleys at the auction as investments for resale, so we were in place when the bikes came up.  Typically, there were about 30 people in the crowd who were only there for the motorcycles, not interested in anything else.  The wrinkle here that was thrown in by the auctioneer was that the bikes were offered on an “any or all” basis, meaning that the successful high bidder on the first one could take any or all of them at that price each.  My partner and I had determined that our price was going to be $1400, and that we would both bid, but not against each other.  The auction started, and the bids quickly shot past our $1400 limit, upon which I dropped out, but my partner, who was caught up in auction fever, stayed in, right up to the point where he bid $1750, and the winning bid was $1800.  The auctioneer asked the high bidder how many he wanted, and he pointed to the two nicest ones, out of 6 total bikes.  He then turned to my partner and asked, “How about you?  How many do you want at this price?”  My partner indicated the third bike and said he’d take that one.  “Sold,” said the auctioneer, then started the process over again with the fourth bike.  As usual, the bidding got higher, with the prices hitting $2000, except for the last bike, a beat up old training bike with 47000 miles on it that went for $1200.  So another auction ended, with the successful bidders headed off to the office to pay for their purchases, and the rest of the Harley folks headed for their cars.  I stuck around to wait for my partner to come back with the paperwork so we could get the bike home.  After a few minutes, he came back, with a staff person in tow, and they both were agitated. He actually interrupted the auction in progress, a major breach of etiquette, and complained to the auctioneer, “My bid was $1750, but they say I have to pay $1800, and that’s not fair!”  The auctioneer tried to explain that, when he was offered the choice of bike, it was at the final bid price, not his last bid.  When my partner remained adamant, the auctioneer reached out and took his bidder number from his hands and said, “Ok, you are out!  Everybody, this one Harley is now up for bid again, how much for it!?”  The thing was, all the Harley guys had departed by that time, and there I was, ready and willing.  I got the bike for $1350.  We could not have pulled that one off if we had it planned, we later decided. Sometimes you just get lucky…and that's how it used to go, back in The Good Old Days.   :-{)}