There are few experiences more gratifying than having a bottomless cup of coffee in your hand as you are surrounded on all sides by a hardwood decor and the crooning of a man in some obscure tongue you couldn't hope to understand or even identify. Such is the experience offered by Gryphon cafe.
So. One month, give or take. Where do I begin?
Let's begin with the car stories, shall we? Way back when, after writing this entry, I decided that I would not update again until a car was in my possession. This self-imposed silence started off as the main reason for this diary's silence, though, after a week and a half or so, other reasons took root, but I'll have plenty of time for those later. Anyway, and, alas, a car is still not in my possession, but a business deal on a 1990 Nissan 240sx has been all but closed, and it appears as though I will be picking that up in New Jersey this Tuesday. Of course, last Thursday, I was supposed to pick up a 1990 240sx in Manhattan, and the Tuesday before that I was supposed to pick up a 300zx in the Bronx, and all sorts of other deals have floundered in the past month or so, so I've become accustomed to keeping anything but high hopes. Nevertheless, this deal seems the most promising of all the ones I've had thus far, and it seems as though it will happen.
In the past month, not even counting the ones that floundered in the initial phases... five? - cars have been nixed in the last stages.
Let's see. Car number one was a 1984 Chevrolet Monte Carlo. T'was American, and had wheels, and would have gone for $700 from a friend of my father's. The guy lived about twenty miles away, on this thirty-some-odd acre plot of land in Buck's county, and had acquired several - dozens, mayhaps - beat up old cars with the intention of restoring them.
His 1984 Monte Carlo was one of the few that ran.
My father had given me the impression that he kept his cars in a barn. Upon my arrival, it became readily apparent that this was not the case; the barn was only reserved for the "nice" cars (and, I must admit, nice they were; all classics in relatively good shape and running condition).
No, the Monte Carlo, and several other vehicles, were kept in a section of his woods, covered leaves and sitting outside for eons (well, in the case of the Monte Carlo, fifteen months to be exact).
Long story short, the Carlo ran and did little else. As I would tell my mother later, the color of the car was "rust", the weather sealing had rotted (so the interior was still kept dry, but the seals would have crumbled apart the moment any window was opened), and all sorts of other little problems. Nevertheless, I knew that parts were readily available and that I could get it in very nice shape for a minimal amount of money from my parents but a lot of time and work on my behalf, and, ultimately, I decided that it wasn't worth it.
I had convinced my parents to give me an additional two grand in parts for the Monte Carlo, bringing the amount they'd give me for a car to about three grand. From there, it became relatively easy to convince them to just give me three grand to get any car I wish that didn't require restoration. They only placed two limitations on my choice: one, that it have an automatic transmission so they could drive it, if need be (which, they admitted, would be almost never), and two, that it not be a Miata, which I found to be terribly displeasing, since many in decent shape could be had for well below the maximum budget they allotted to me. Their sole reason for this decision was that a Miata was simply too small; as much as they trusted my ability to drive, in their mind, if some asshole driving a tank of an SUV ran into me, I'd be flatter than a Walburrito without the refried bean filling.
So, the search for a compromise car with class and style began, and I finally settled upon a first-generation Nissan 300zx. Produced from 1984-1989, this car simply screamed "EIGHTIES!!!!" in the most charming way humanly possible. The 300zx (which shall henceforth be referred to as a z31, as it is in most circles; the second-gen being a z32) is a hatchback which can seat four (most only seat two, but a four seater - which my search was limited to - was produced). The z31 has removable glass T-Tops as a standard option, which nearly reproduce the convertible effect of the Miata without the jump in insurance rates. It has pop-up headlights (which I loved on the first generation Miata) which pop down halfway. The car has a built in robotic voice that tells you when something's wrong ("Right door open." "Left door open." "Cruise Control Off." Et cetera, et cetera). The icing on the cake of this car is the delightfully-retro digital dash display; EVERYTHING, from the speed of the car to the mileage to the amount of gas left is displayed in a lovely greenish glow reminiscent of alarm clocks the world over, presented in a way that only the eighties could have pulled off stylishly.
Before I continue, I think I think it's important that I point out that, largely due to Ericson's encouragement, I had been against getting a car with an automatic transmission from the start; I wanted a manual. However, every attempt to convince my parents (or, more specifically, my mother; my father dislikes driving as it is and has no desire to drive whatever is purchased for me, and, therefore, doesn't care one way or the other what the transmission is) had been stymied; my mother sees herself as an old dog with no desire to learn new tricks, and has no desire in getting a car that would require her to relearn how to drive.
With that said, after deciding I wanted a z31, shortly thereafter the perfect one was found in the classifieds. At $2,195, it fell well below the budget allotted by my parents, and it was being sold my a dealer (as opposed to a private seller) which offered some level of assurance. The only problem? The car was listed as a manual, and would therefore be flat out rejected by my mother. However, after an intense evening of discussion with both parents, I finally succeeded in convincing both parents learning to deal with a stick-shift wouldn't be that bad, and that they'd hardly ever drive it, anyway. (The fact that it was $800 below their budget certainly helped.)
So, with that obstacle overcome, Ericson and I set out the next morning, and drive twenty-two miles out to this dealership. On the way there, Ericson's making fun of me for my inability to drive a manual car (I'm still learning, and that should be completely out of the way once I get a few hours of practice with the car I eventually end up with). Ericson says how it would be funny if I got into the car to test drive it and asked the dealer, "Hey, where's the 'Drive' setting on this thing?" I responded that it would be even more funny if the dealer responded, casually, "Oh, it's right there."
So, after having driven twenty miles and paying a couple of tolls, Ericson and I look at the car, and it's fucking beautiful. A couple of minor dings here and there, but the paint still shines, the black leather interior is immaculate, the green digital compass in the center still works and is pointing in the right direction, and the automatic transmission is right in the center.
I repeat: the automatic transmission is right in the center.
I am certain that I must have jinxed it.
So, we go up to the dealer and ask him what's the deal. He shrugs his shoulders and passes it off as a typographical error.
Twenty miles for a bloody typographical error.
Having won the manual vs. automatic transmission debate with my parents, I refuse to settle with this car. (That, and the fact the engine sounded goofy and seemed prone to stalling when the car wasn't moving.) So, the search resumes, and a few days later I find car number three: a manual, 1987 z31 being sold by a guy named Mark in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. Mark was a middle-aged guy who drove the z31 only on weekends, and decided it was time to get rid of it. He was asking for $3,100, but I figured I could talk him down to $2,600 or thereabouts easily enough.
So, I give Mark a call. The first question I ask him:
"Does the car have a manual transmission?"
And he responds, "Yes."
And I respond, "Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Only fools are positive."
"... I think a person would know whether or not their car had a manual transmission."
"You'd be surprised. But that's good to hear."
And from there, I go on to ask every question I can possibly think of and then some, and the car sounds pretty good. The only problem, from what he tells me, is that it needs new carpeting, but that he's already got some new carpeting in there. I figure, no big deal, assuming he means the carpeting is dirty or spotty or needs new floor mats or something.
They say when you assume, you make an ass out of u and me, and this adage applies used cars more than it does to anything else.
Ericson and I drive out twenty-some-odd miles to Cherry Hill, only to find that the car doesn't need new carpeting; it needs carpeting, period. The entire floor of the car is bare sheet metal, and the "new carpeting" he said he already had in is this disgusting, pink shag carpeting one would normally use to cover their living room floor cut - rather poorly - by Mark to just a few spots of the car. Without the carpet, the sound of the engine is deafening inside of the car, and while this is normally acceptable in a sports car it simply wasn't working in this car.
Nevertheless, Ericson and I take the car for a test drive (and, incidentally, get lost while doing so), and the car handles relatively well. The sound system isn't working, but I was planning on ripping out the stock system and buying a new one anyway, so this isn't a big deal. The leather on the seats is torn, but I can deal with that; the only thing that bothers me about the car is the carpeting, and Ericson and I both figure that if we can get the car for $1,500 and put the rest of the budget into fixing up the interior and a couple of minor things here and there, we're golden.
So, we go back to Mark, and point out the problems we have with the car, and say we can't give him more than $1500.
Mark, understandably, is shocked, and insists that he can't go below $2600 - the amount, incidentally, that I sought to bring him down to in the first place, when I had assumed the car actually had carpeting.
I point out the fact that the Blue Book value of this car, in excellent condition, is about $1,650, and while supply and demand can drive the price of this car up, without carpeting and, as Ericson points out, with a broken sound system -
- "Speakers," Mark says, interrupting Ericson.
"What?" I ask him.
"The sound system is fine. It's the speakers that don't work."
Ericson looks at him like he's the biggest idiot in the world.
Anyway, I conclude, this car simply isn't worth that.
Mark responds, and I quote, verbatim: "But it still gets from Point 'A' to Point 'B'!" And he doesn't say it in a way that a crooked dealer, desperate to close a deal might say it; rather, he says it in a tone and way that suggests he genuinely believes that this is all a car has to do to maintain its value. As Ericson would say later, with this guy's thinking, one could buy a car for $20 grand, rip out the carpeting, tear up the seats, EMP the speakers and still expect to get $20 grand back on the car because it gets from point A to point B. This man wasn't the type of man who couldn't be negotiated with because he was greedy and eager to get his asking price in full; he was the type who couldn't be negotiated with because he was ignorant and had no idea what he was dealing with.
Mark was naive with a capital "stupid", and we needlessly pointed out that a car, by its very definition, gets from point A to point B, and that cars that accomplish solely this goal could be had for much, much less. After that, I thanked him, curtly, and we cleared out.
After Mark, nearly two weeks passed. Understandably, z31's are hard to come by, and are difficult to track, and I began considering other options. Ericson recommended getting a Civic and customizing it, but I viewed that as a very last resort; "You can do whatever you want to a Honda Civic," I said, distastefully, "but at the end of the day, it's still a Honda Civic."
I'm a car snob, so sue me. If I had my d'ruthers, I'd live in the city where I don't need a car at all to get around, but if I must have a car I want one with style.
Ericson then recommended the 240sx, a car eagerly desired and sought out by drifters the world over. (For the uninitiated to "drift" a car is to use it to perform sideways powerslides, 180 and 360 degree turns, and the like on purpose. Generally speaking, it's getting a car to do exactly what Front Wheel Drive and All Wheel Drive were designed to prevent. It's huge in Japan and is developing a firm following throughout California, where they don't have to worry about snow when deciding what car to get.) This - the fact that it is so hotly desired - is the exact reason I didn't really want it. The 240sx is a fine car, but I hate being seen as a bandwagon jumper. In sixth/seventh grade (I forget when it was), when everyone was trying to get a Tamagotchi, I got a Nano, not because it was a cheaper and easier to acquire knock-off, but because it was the underdog and because it wasn't the thing to get. Back in seventh/eighth grade, I loved Pokemon (the original video game, not the disgusting TV show based on it) when it was still an underground thing until it became the big thing and everyone started loving it; after that, I couldn't allow myself to go anywhere near it.
If you want to drift, a 240sx is the car to get, and that's one of the major reasons I wanted a z31 in the first place; nobody drifts in a z31, and yet, they're still very drift-able. Nevertheless, the 240sx remained an option, but only a few notches above a Civic.
Next best bet seemed to be a Toyota Supra: rear wheel drive, classy, and even had a sports roof (like the t-tops, but without the bar going down the middle and with the back still covered) as an option.
A day later, I find a Supra on eBay that seems perfect, with a knock-out sound system to boot. It was in NYC, a bit of a trek, but still doable, and the price was right, so I was all lined up to get that...
... until, on eBay, I find a z31, also in NYC, which is nearly perfect. It was involved in two minor accidents, but the damage was fixed up and the price was knocked down. The auction for the z31 ended a day after the Supra, so I ignored it, cast my bid on the z31, met the reserve, e-mailed the seller, got my ducks in a row to head up to New York...
... and never got an e-mail back. Not one. The guy gave me no info on how to pay him, no phone number on where to reach him, no nothing. I left negative feedback, but, of course, that was so very ungratifying. Thus ended things with car number three.
A week passes. No Supras turn up, a few z31's turn up on eBay where I fail to meet the reserve or the auction, to my dismay, is ended early, some civics turn up but they don't seem worth it. God forbid I just get any old normal car, no, not Walbert. A car is an extension of one's ego, and, in many ways, fuels it. I don't need an expensive car, I don't need a particularly classy car or fast car or "cool" car, but I needed something a bit unusual that stands out a bit, and I didn't feel like settling...
... but, eventually, I did, upon a 240sx, telling myself that they're still somewhat unusual in the northeast, which, granted, they sort of are. Long story short (because this entry is way too long already), I found car number four, a 1990 240sx being sold by a guy in New York, and it had a great sound system, and new rims and a nice price, and I gave the guy a very generous offer to ensure it would end up in my possession, and the night before I'm scheduled to go up to New York to pick it up I call the guy up to arrange details and he informs me that he's gotten an even better offer.
Long story short, that fell through, and I might have another one now in New Jersey, just across the GW bridge from New York, but I maintain low hopes; long as this entry was, I didn't even get into all of the other disappointments that floundered in the initial stage.
But, eh, we'll see how things work out.
Enough about all this car crap. Expect more crap on other issues later. Let's go to bed.
- - 2005-02-10
- - 2005-01-12
- - 2004-11-21
- - 2004-08-31
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