Chapter 13: I Tried Selling a Police Car
Chapter 13: I Tried Selling a Police Car
Two hundred twenty coins earned. I have no idea whether that’s a lot or a little.
With the Mustang, the first-time reward had been added on top, so I had received a huge amount of coins all at once. Still, steadily accumulating them like this was not bad either.
Besides, coins were not the only reward I had received for completing the restoration.
Repeatedly disassembling and reassembling the car had greatly improved my proficiency, and more importantly, the skill with the somewhat embarrassing name Auction House Rookie was impressive.
It lets me estimate the optimal winning bid within a ten percent margin of error.
Because of the nature of auctions, there were plenty of cases where the word “optimal” did not carry much meaning, and a ten percent margin of error was by no means small.
Still, the fact that a beginner like me could at least imitate the kind of winning-bid estimates only veterans could normally make was already more than enough.
I should start paying closer attention to auctions from now on.
Between Chuck Redding, the dealer I met at the auction, and this new skill, having more ways to obtain base cars for restoration was extremely welcome.
In any case, now that I had received all the restoration rewards, only the final stage remained.
The undisputed highlight of the automobile restoration business.
Monetization.
In other words, selling the car.
It probably won’t be that easy this time.
With the Mustang, everything had gone smoothly because Rafael had already shown interest in it beforehand.
This time, I had to handle the advertising, customer inquiries, and price negotiations entirely on my own.
“First, let’s try listing it on an online used market.”
Unlike in the past, most private vehicle sales these days were conducted online.
To list a vehicle on one of those sales platforms, good photographs were extremely important.
By coincidence, the sun was already setting, laying a long red carpet across the desert sand.
I drove the Crown Victoria to a nearby vacant industrial area I had noticed before.
“The atmosphere is perfect.”
The combination of rusted factory walls, the sun hanging over the horizon, and the lone police car parked on the asphalt looked surprisingly impressive.
A phone camera was more than enough.
Front view.
Forty-five-degree side view.
Rear view.
And a low-angle shot to make it look intimidating...
Click. Click.
After carefully photographing everything from the exterior to the interior and engine bay, I uploaded the listing to an online used-vehicle marketplace.
[2011 Crown Victoria Police Interceptor Original P71. Clean Title.]
(Translator’s Note: Clean Title — In American vehicle documentation, a clean title generally means that the title does not carry a major brand such as salvage, rebuilt, or flood. It does not necessarily mean the vehicle has never been in an accident.)
I kept the title as concise as possible.
—————
Fully restored Crown Victoria P71 for sale.
Genuine former Police Interceptor vehicle with no remaining damage or functional issues.
– 4.6L V8
– Heavy-Duty Cooling System
– Reinforced Suspension
– No Warning Lights
– Accident History and Maintenance Record PDF Available
– Clean Title
– Mileage: XXXX
Price: $9,800
No trades.
Serious buyers only.
—————
It was so simple that it was almost anticlimactic.
Can a car really sell this easily?
Half worried and half hopeful, I browsed other listings to see how people took their photos and wrote their ads.
Blink, blink—
Notifications began appearing on my phone.
—What’s your lowest price?
Block.
Messages like that were not even worth answering.
—I’ll pick it up today for $5,000.
I skipped that one immediately as well.
—Any accident history?
—Any rattling noises from the undercarriage?
There was no need for a long explanation.
I simply sent over the relevant PDF files.
There were also people asking what a P71 was, people demanding a video of the exhaust sound, and even a student asking for a discount because he did not have much money.
Messages came from every imaginable type of person.
Then, after nine at night, a message arrived that felt completely different from the others.
—Hello. I apologize for contacting you so late. I’m looking for a car to give my father as a birthday present. He is a retired police officer.
If this is genuinely an original police package, please let me know your location and an available time. I would like to inspect the car in person.—
I slowly read the message again.
There was no mention of the price.
There were no strange purchase conditions.
Most importantly, I could sense a strong determination to see the car first and discuss things afterward.
—If you come this weekend, I can explain every aspect of the car in detail. The location and available time are...—
I kept my reply concise and included only the necessary information.
—Yes, I happen to be free this weekend as well. Then let’s meet at that time.—
A reply came back only seconds after I sent the message.
That was a very good sign.
“You might end up carrying a former police officer around again.”
I quietly murmured to myself while running a hand over the gleaming body of the Crown Victoria.
“Hello. You’re the one selling the Crown Vic, right?”
When I arrived at the meeting place on Saturday, a woman in her thirties with a neat bob haircut was already waiting.
“Hello. I’m Jason.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Karen. May I take a look at the car?”
“Of course. Take your time.”
After briefly asking permission, she began inspecting different parts of the vehicle.
She checked not only the exterior, but also the remaining tire life, unusual vibration or noises from the engine bay, the condition of the air-conditioning system, and several other things.
She looked remarkably familiar with the process as she carefully checked everything without saying a word.
After quite some time, she finally turned back toward me.
“It really is in excellent condition, just like the listing said.”
Her voice carried certainty.
“You seem to know cars pretty well. Do you work in this field?”
Curious, I asked her.
“Haha, do I look like I do? Not at all, actually. I’m a veterinarian. I’m just familiar with this car because I rode in one with my dad so many times growing up that I got sick of it.”
Ah.
Come to think of it, she had said the car was meant as a birthday gift for her retired police officer father.
“I haven’t seen one up close in a very long time since my father retired. It must be a completely different car, but somehow even the feel of opening the door and the smell of the seats are exactly the same...”
Karen looked at the car for a moment as though she were staring at something nostalgic.
“Whew. There’s nothing else to think about. I’ll buy it.”
Less than a minute later, she had made her decision.
“Thank you. Honestly, I didn’t expect you to decide this quickly.”
“Right? I didn’t expect it either. But for some reason, I feel like this is a car I absolutely have to take home. I’m sure my father will love it. The price was $9,800, correct?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
I had set the asking price with the intention of dropping it to $9,500 if the buyer tried to negotiate on-site using one excuse or another.
However, she showed no sign of negotiating at all.
“Here. I’ll pay with a cashier’s check.”
The check already had the exact amount of $9,800 and her name written on it.
“I only have one request.”
She held the check in her hand and continued.
“Would you be able to deliver the car to the address?”
“Do you mean right now?”
“Yes. My father’s house is near Phoenix. As you can see, I don’t have a trailer, and there’s no one who can drive the second car for me. His birthday is still a few days away, but if I bring it today, it might actually make for a better surprise.”
Phoenix was north of here in the same state of Arizona.
It was around two and a half hours away by car, or three hours at most if I took my time.
The sudden request to leave immediately caught me off guard, but I had the trailer I had recently won at auction.
If I considered the delivery cost included in the sale price, it was a perfectly reasonable arrangement.
“All right. Then let’s fill out the sales documents and leave immediately.”
“Really? I felt this while we were messaging too, but you’re straightforward and refreshingly decisive.”
Karen smiled brightly as she handed me the check.
From my perspective, she seemed far more decisive than I was.
A cashier’s check was issued by a bank in advance and was commonly used in private transactions.
I checked the amount once more, then placed it deep inside my pocket.
Now that I had received payment, all that remained was to complete the Bill of Sale and remove the license plate from the vehicle.
(Translator’s Note: Bill of Sale — A written document recording the transfer of property from seller to buyer. For private vehicle transactions, it commonly records the buyer and seller, date of sale, vehicle details, and purchase price.)
I would also need to file a notice of sale with the DMV afterward, but these days, that could be handled very easily online.
(Translator’s Note: DMV — Short for Department of Motor Vehicles. In the United States, the name is commonly used for state agencies responsible for functions such as driver licensing, vehicle registration, titles, and ownership records. Exact agency names and responsibilities vary by state.)
I loaded the car onto the trailer and securely strapped down all four wheels.
Then, so she could feel reassured, I handed her the car key.
She had barely taken her eyes off the vehicle the entire time.
Now she looked down at the key and quietly moved her lips.
“I hope that while he’s driving this car, my father can feel like he’s returned to those days again...”
I did not answer.
She probably had not said it expecting a response.
“Then I’ll get going. I can’t drive very fast while towing, so I’ll probably arrive later than you. I’ll contact you when I’m almost at the address. You can come outside then.”
“Yes. Thank you so much for selling me such a good car and even helping with the delivery. See you later.”
Even putting aside any preconceived image I might have had of a veterinarian raised by a police officer, Karen was remarkably polite, composed, and decisive.
After she left, I followed and merged onto I-10 West.
Phoenix – 160 mi
Phoenix – 160 miles, approximately 260 kilometers.
Phoenix was not particularly far away.
However, the moment I saw the distance sign, I suddenly realized that I was hungry.
Of course I was.
I had not eaten anything since morning.
I’ll grab something simple when I stop for gas later.
Once I quickly left the city behind, open desert spread wide on both sides of the highway.
From time to time, I checked the mirrors to make sure the trailer and vehicle were still properly secured.
About an hour later, as I was leaving the outskirts of Tucson behind, the low-fuel warning light came on.
I pulled into a Love’s Travel Stop, where trucks and RVs were always lined up, and filled the tank completely.
Fuel prices had been climbing frighteningly fast lately, but truck stops like this were still somewhat cheaper than the surrounding stations.
The smell of hamburger patties cooking drifted briefly from the convenience-store side.
That would probably taste good, but it’d be awkward to eat in the truck...
Then I noticed a small menu board outside.
[Corn Dog – $3.49]
They have corn dogs? Maybe I’ll have one. It’s been a while.
A corn dog was the fried snack that Koreans commonly called a hot dog, with a sausage inside the batter.
Compared to an American-style hot dog served in a bun with sausage, onions, pickles, and other toppings, it was simpler and easier to eat.
I did not understand why it was a full dollar more expensive than the $2.59 hot dog, though.
Maybe it was because it had to be deep-fried.
After paying, I went to the condiment section and drew a long line of mustard across it.
Most Americans did not usually put ketchup on hot dogs or corn dogs.
Children were the exception.
I bit through the fluffy breading and into the sausage in the center.
It was certainly not a high-quality sausage.
In fact, that cheap taste was the entire point.
It’s pretty good after not having one for so long.
The sausage also seemed noticeably smaller than it used to be...
I continued driving while chewing on the corn dog, and before long, I had entered the Phoenix area.
She said I should take Loop 202 and exit from there.
I drove the truck toward a residential neighborhood in southern Phoenix.
It was a quiet area lined with single-story homes.
The front yards had low shrubs, gravel landscaping, and small garages.
When I spotted the address in the distance, I texted the buyer.
—I’m almost there. Please come outside briefly and give me the key first. I’ll unload the car.—
A short while later, Karen came out of the house and handed me the key.
“You got here earlier than I expected.”
“Yes. Traffic wasn’t too bad. Unloading won’t take long, so bring your father outside in about five minutes.”
“All right.”
She quickly went back inside before anyone could notice her.
I carefully unloaded the car from the trailer and deliberately parked it where the sunlight hit it particularly well.
A minute or two passed after I finished.
Creak—
The white-painted front door opened, and a white-haired man with a slight belly walked outside.
He slowly stepped forward.
Then he suddenly noticed the police car parked in front of the house and stopped moving.
For a moment, he turned around and looked back at his daughter.
She said nothing.
She simply gave a small nod.
The man slowly turned his head back toward the car.
“Oh... my God...”
He could not continue speaking.
Instead, his reddened eyes seemed to express everything he was feeling.
It was the kind of car he had driven for thirty years.
And now, it was his first meeting with the beloved car that would once again remain by his side for many years to come.