The Deal That Ended in Flames
A Risk Case Study
I’ll admit that I tend to anthropomorphize cars. There are happy cars, sad cars, mellow cars, grumpy cars. But I’ve never had a car that I thought of as cursed, until last year.
Over the last 23 years I’ve sold about 900 cars, most of which I’ve tracked down through effort or luck. It’s my favorite part of the job, but also the hardest, a perpetual treasure hunt. As a low-volume, one-man operation I pretty much work at it seven days a week. Even while I’m on vacation I have my eye out for interesting cars for sale wherever that may be.
Before a trip to San Diego last year, I was scanning the market in that area when I came across an ad for 1997 Mercedes SL500. These ‘R129’ Mercedes can usually be found pretty easily, and even for low bucks at some of the curbside car lots. Those aren’t the ones you want. The one in this ad was for a two-owner car with 34k original miles and a complete service history from the same MB dealership where it had been sold new. These were very expensive cars in 1997 ($91,795 MSRP), and unless they’re maintained correctly they can sink you pretty fast. The power convertible top, for example - it has ELEVEN hydraulic cylinders to operate it, and guess what? They fail, pretty regularly in fact. They normally quit in pairs, and each set will cost you $700 plus around $1400 in labor to install them. So if you’re in the market for one of these cars, you absolutely have to find a really good one or you’re in for a lot of pain.
SL500’s are a little newer than what I normally deal in, but the pictures in the ad looked really good. Actually, really good. The photos had a watermark on them with the name of pretty famous photographer that I recognized; let’s call him John Doe. I figured that the seller must have been a friend of his and wrangled him into taking the pictures. I read the ad further. No, this was actually John Doe’s personal car, he had bought it in 2004 as a Mercedes-Benz CPO vehicle with 18k miles. It was Polar White with a Parchment leather interior and dark brown soft top, which is kind of rare. The asking price was 28K - Retail plus plus, in my opinion. However, I’d had one of these in the past and thought I might be ready to scratch that itch again. I decided to get on the phone and call the man himself. He picked right up and we spent the next hour talking about the car, talking about photography, camera gear, San Diego, and more. It was neat, this was a guy that I had followed online for the better part of two decades and now I was having this cool little conversation with him. I told him about my business and asked about that 28k price in his ad. He told me that was only to eliminate calls from tire kickers and that the real price was 22K, but probably less if I was serious and came to see the car in person. I told him that I could be there next Wednesday, and then wired him a $1000 deposit to hold the car.
That next Wednesday my son and I drove north to meet him in a very high-end gated community near La Jolla. In my eyes, it was like meeting a celebrity: security check at the gate, a big mansion, expensive new cars, impeccable landscaping. But the man I met was modest, almost insecure. We talked a bit about his latest cameras and gear, then went to the three car garage to see the Mercedes. He had every piece of paperwork for it, right down to the gas receipts that he had saved at every fill up, all of them chronologically arranged. In preparation for the sale he had just spent $2,646 having the dealership replace the oil, coolant, brake fluid, and yes, two more top cylinders. I looked the car over. I had no complaints. I was ready to buy this car.
John, what do you think about 20?
20? Oh, no, I’d sell the car to you for 25.
But didn’t you say the price was 22?
Yeah, but I could just put it on Bring a Trailer myself and sell it for that.
We went round and round like that for a while, with me explaining that listing and selling a car on Bring a Trailer wasn’t as easy as it looks, and him slowly working the car back up to the 28k price, if he was going to agree to sell it at all.
Things were beginning to slide sideways. I thought back to our phone conversation. I started wondering if this was really the same guy that I had talked to on the phone. Suddenly, my 22 year-old son stepped in, tactfully explaining to him that receiving a deposit on a car after quoting an asking price of 22k should be seen as a good faith agreement between gentlemen. John Doe started fidgeting.
Well, let’s just leave it up to my wife. She’s out shopping but should be home soon.
When his wife finally came home, John and my son each took turns explaining the situation. It was just as well, I was kind of speechless anyway, my feet planted there on the cobblestoned driveway, stunned that the guy that I had always seen as a paragon of professionalism was whining to his wife like a little boy. Never meet your heroes.
With arms crossed, she listened patiently to both sides.
John, just sell him the car for 22.
She picked up her shopping bags, walked into the house and that was that. Whether this had been the most elaborate, sophisticated ploy to get a guy to pay asking price or not, I’ll never know. I wired him the rest of the funds, got the hardtop mounted on the car and then followed my son as he drove the Mercedes back to San Diego. The car looked good driving down I-5 and I was happy that my kid got to experience some time behind the wheel, but truth be told there wasn’t a lot of joy felt by either one of us.
After dealing with a flaky transporter, I got the car rebooked on short notice and it arrived in Portland a few days later. I was still a little sore about how this deal had gone down but tried to concentrate on the good. It really was a great example of this model. I wasn’t expecting that the car would set any records on BaT, but looked at it more as just one of those cars that I can enjoy having for a while as I kept the wheels turning in my business. In general, I’m always pretty enthusiastic about the cars I offer, but somehow this one had a shadow over it. The bizarre negotiations with the seller, the frustration with getting it shipped up here - it was almost like the car was snakebit.
There was interest in the car on BaT, but ultimately not enough to move it into the sold column. I did, however, end up working out a deal with the high bidder afterwards, who had been actively looking for a great R129 and knew one when he saw it. He paid for the car and I arranged for transport to his location in Brooklyn, New York. And that’s when the trouble began.
I always make a point to photograph my cars as they are being loaded on the transporter’s trailer, and you had better believe that the driver’s doing the same thing. Having a vehicle damaged is the last thing they want, and over two decades of shipping cars I can count on one hand the number of times there have been problems. I was about to add another finger to the count.
The following morning I got an early call from the dispatcher at the transport company. There had been a problem, a big one. The car had been damaged in a fire.
I’m sorry, what? The Mercedes? You’re saying it caught on fire?
Yes, sir, your car started a fire in the trailer.
That’s impossible. That car’s been in the trailer for almost 24 hours, it couldn’t just self combust!
Well, that’s what the driver told me happened.
How bad is it?
Bad. The driver pulled over and it ended up starting a brushfire. They had to close eastbound I-90 near Spokane.
And the car?
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
Your car’s been completely destroyed.
I was dumbfounded. And saddened. This perfect specimen, this car that had been lovingly maintained at an untold cost for 26 years, traveling a mere 1,300 miles per year on average, all in sunny California - destroyed.
I opened my laptop and pulled up the WSDOT website, thinking that I might be able to see a traffic camera feed from that area. Didn’t find one, but I did see a notation on the map where the freeway was tagged as being closed. Next I went to Twitter and looked up the account for the WSDOT. Nothing. Then, the Washington State Patrol’s Twitter account. Yep, there it was. A photo of two trooper’s cars, an active burn on their right, and a sooty plume of petroleum-based smoke rising in the distance.
I got an idea to run a search for the keywords “car”, “trailer” and “fire” on Twitter and soon found a close-up post from an eyewitness. The wonders of the internet.
It sure didn’t look like a fire that had started in a trailer, it was pretty obvious that the driver’s truck had been the origin point. I went full screen and watched the video a few times. Now there was no doubt.
I texted the video to the dispatcher, waited a minute, then called her.
Hey, what did your driver say to the WSP? It’s pretty obvious from the video that the fire started in his truck.
Well, he was pretty shaken up, but he still thinks it started in the trailer.
Okay, well, here’s my advice. He had better get his story straight when it comes time to talk to your insurance. The video clearly shows that the fire started in his truck. If he tries to spin some story for them they’ll just deny the whole claim. Alright? These are not people you want to bullshit.
I understand.
The next morning my phone showed a call coming in from none other than John Doe. Dang it, I was hoping to spare him from finding out about this, but apparently someone had put him in the loop. Turns out that when the WSP ran the VIN from the charred shell he came up as the registered owner, and then had gotten a call from the salvage towing company that had been contracted to clean up the mess. They had a bill waiting for $24,000. John was actually quite calm on the phone with me, probably because he knew that the chain of liability for that bill would start with the transport company, and then on to me in second position. Still, I hated to think that he had heard about what happened to his beloved Mercedes. But he took it in stride. “Well, Bob, once I sell a car I don’t have an attachment to it anymore.” I read between the lines and took that to mean financial.
I spent the next half hour on the phone with the unusually easygoing owner of the towing company, who had already talked with John’s wife earlier that morning. She had reassured his wife that John was off the hook, and then the two of them spent some time chatting about grandkids. The liability for the bill was definitely going to be on the shoulders of the transport company’s insurance, she told me, and also said that the police report had indeed shown that the fire started in the truck. Then, in a sort of motherly way, she went on to tell me that this cleanup wasn’t the worst she’d seen. $24k was actually what they consider a small charge. When semi trucks tip over with a full load, THAT’S expensive. $300k and up to clear that kind of mess.
It was an interesting way for me to start a Sunday, and all before 10am. By then I had all of the information that I needed to do what’s next, and I was dreading it. The time had come to call Brooklyn, to let the buyer know that the title I had mailed him now belongs to a car that no longer exists. It was going to be up to the transporter’s insurance to reimburse him for the cost of the Mercedes, plus they’d have to pay the salvage company’s towing bill, and then (maybe) they would pay to replace the truck and trailer, depending on what type of coverage was in place. Whether that transporter would ever be able to afford insurance again is a question that I think I know the answer to.
Wow, what a story!
Not only a true Murphy's Law tale, but incredible photos showing a true horror tale. The innocent buyer in Brooklyn probably will only be buying cars down the block from now on!!!!