I’ve always believed in the phrase “Plans are meant to be broken.” Whoever can be credited with that quote saved thousands perhaps millions of hopefuls from their expected disappointment and such was the theme of last weekend.
Craigslist hunting is a past time for many prospective automobile buyers, myself included. Looking for my next s2000 has become a more difficult task than anticipated for more reasons than finances and limited supply. Mostly, suspicious sellers.
Saturday evening, Augie, Matt and I trekked three hours in the rain from New York to Atlantic City, NJ, about forty-five minutes to an hour from the ’03 s2000 above. “A short drive for a good deal” you’re thinking and I could not disagree.
Upon our arrival in the “Always Turned On,” city, our expected room turned out to be non-existent and every major hotel had no vacant rooms within and outside of reason. I was turned off from the situation immediately.
Having abandoned the idea of staying within the proximity of AC we had opted to put our feet up somewhere in the realm of the silver stone convertible.
That morning, we had arranged to investigate the s2000. Satisfied with the condition it was in, I negotiated a few hundred dollars off the asking price and prepared to take it home. That was not the situation. The papers were “elsewhere” and away from retrieving within a reasonable time, no not at a bank, just not there, “elsewhere.” The seller agreed to deliver the car on a flat bed a mutual distance from both of us the following day. Brilliant I thought!
Monday, arrived and I was eager to receive the Honda. I confirmed with the individual I had met with Sunday that I was still interested for the agreed upon amount at nine that evening.
If you’re familiar with New York you know leaving the city for New Jersey requires one to navigate through a sea of pot holes the entire distance regardless of which route you choose travel.
My “old man” and I arrived minutes after our scheduled appointment and the person had informed me that they were behind schedule “a few minutes,” a term used loosely. A few minutes had become synonymous to these individuals with an hour and a half and I had, at this point, set up camp at a local Dunkin Donuts.
The car looked as it did Sunday but it did not arrive on a flat bed nor did the person I had come to an agreement with Sunday exit the driver seat, nor passenger for that matter. Immediately flags went up in my mind as the bald, Latin-American gangsta, if you will, entered the establishment. Think Mr.305 aka Pitbull, the musical artist most associated with making awful pop music.
He gestured towards me and I nodded in agreement that I was indeed the person there to buy the sports car. As you can imagine my first question was who he was exactly and if he had identification as any right minded individual should given the particular value of the transaction. At our request he denied to identify himself, “Nah,” he responded. “Nah?,” my Dad responded back. Again we asked without the expected results, he followed his second “Nah, papi” with an excuse that the vehicle belonged to his brother who was in Florida at the time. Which wasn’t a big deal considering the person we met Sunday had mentioned it was his brother’s s2000 as well. Three brothers, that’s realistic I thought, I am one of three brothers!
That in mind we had mentioned that if it was indeed his brother’s S2000 that he should have the same last name as the person on the title. “Nah yo, we have different dads.” An idea which we had respected but still asked for his ID for if something was was wrong with the car generally speaking we could seek him out. “I don’t have ID,”he firmly stated. Annoyed at this point, the blue collar man my Dad is became evident as his response was as such, “Alright, well, fuck you then” and he headed for the door. I followed suit.
The individual followed behind us and began to tell me that my Dad had an attitude which was humorous as I had felt the same way about him. Further more he began to tell me that he didn’t need my money and that he had his own as he pulled out a wad of cash. I wasn’t impressed nor did it inspire any confidence.
One last time, I had sarcastically asked “So you’re not going to show me your ID?” “Nah” he lazily communicated with every bit of swag he could possibly muster up.
here’s the ad on Craiglist for the S2000 if you want waste your time