Making a bid yields more than a bargain

Western Producer staff

Sold!

That is one of the most beautiful words in the English language. Especially if you are an auction buff and the word is directed at you.

I’ve been going to sales for years, usually buying small things, crocks, china, glass and the like. That changed at a recent sale in our town.

I wandered down the street to a business auction intending only to look but instead buying a microfiche reader, a desk, three chairs and a display stand.

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Then, needing something to take it all home in, I bought a truck.

Now, this wasn’t quite the spur of the moment purchase it might appear.

For want of something to do while waiting for my items of interest, and while I was checking the color of the upholstery, I listened to some guys saying what good shape the truck was in.

I know a bargain when I see it, so when it came up I bid to my limit and heard the heavenly words, “sold to number 518.” Me! I loaded up my purchases and headed home.

For a white truck, it manoeuvred beautifully and I was happily driving down the highway when it began to lose power.

I made it onto a grid road, parked it and, with the help of a neighbor, arrived home.

Being a mere slip of a woman and having to confess to your husband that you just bought a truck that wouldn’t even make it the 28 kilometres home from town is akin to confessing that you have just sold your firstborn and blown the money at the local den of iniquity.

My husband is a good man; he seldom yells, just kind of shakes his head and holds it at the same time.

That over, we trekked back to the truck. It would turn over, but wouldn’t start. I paced around the truck.

As my mother’s smartest, if only, child, it took me just three revolutions to realize that something was amiss.

The light dawned as I was standing by the gas tank on the driver’s side. I had filled the truck with gas, but the filling was done on the passenger side.

Eureka, I called out in my best Greek. There are two tanks! And, with the flip of a switch, we were in business.

My husband declined the offer to drive the new truck home, preferring to drive his own trusty half ton.

This aloofness lasted for a full 24 hours before sheer curiosity forced him to take the white truck for a drive. On his return, he quietly acknowledged that it runs well. It had been accepted.

Vindicated I might be, but this business of buying vehicles is just too stressful. At the next auction, I will be sticking to my antiques and collectibles. I’ll leave the guy things to the guys.