Chapter 71: An Offer He Couldn’t Refuse
Although quite some time had passed since the legal battle began, no final verdict had yet been reached.
For a lawsuit of this scale, it was common for proceedings to last several months at the shortest and several years at the longest.
The market, however, reacted far faster and more coldly than the law.
Following the media coverage, Blackwood’s credibility plummeted so completely that there was nowhere left for it to fall. With public opinion scraping rock bottom day after day, the board abruptly moved to put Alistair’s resignation to a vote, declaring that it would eliminate the “owner risk.”
Taking advantage of the chaos, Sterling steadily absorbed rare vehicles that had withdrawn from Blackwood’s consignment list and expanded its market share. It even captured the major financial institutions’ collateral-loan quotas, firmly securing its position as the undisputed second-largest company in the industry.
“Hehe, Jason, I’ve been promoted to executive director! It’s all thanks to you. Dad’s incredibly happy too!”
Hailey contacted me from time to time despite her busy schedule. Most of what she talked about was company business, though.
Separately from that, I had finished all my scheduled court appearances as a witness, so I thought I would finally be able to return to restoring cars and live a peaceful life again...
It was a naive thought born from underestimating the influence of the media.
“Hey, buddy! I’m pretty sure I got here first!”
“Bullshit! I came last night and slept in my car!”
“Woof! Woof!”
The front yard of what should have been a peaceful restoration shop was complete pandemonium. A long line of vehicles stretched down the access road from the shop entrance all the way to the main road.
“All right, everyone, please wait your turn! I’ll call out the numbers on the tickets I handed you in order!”
Noah ran around frantically, distributing numbered tickets and shouting at the top of his lungs.
How did things end up like this...?
Looking back, it had all started with a single photograph taken in a courthouse corridor.
In the photo, apparently snapped discreetly by a courthouse employee and uploaded to social media, I was taking off my sunglasses as I stared at Alistair.
A young technician standing his ground without so much as blinking against an arrogant tycoon dressed in an expensive suit.
The public layered onto it the story of an honest David bringing down a corrupt Goliath. It was exactly the kind of story Americans went wild for.
(Translator’s Note: David and Goliath — A biblical account from the First Book of Samuel in which the young David defeats the giant Philistine warrior Goliath. The expression describes an underdog overcoming a far more powerful opponent.)
Though judging by the photo alone, I look more like the Goliath...
On top of that, the main feature in Heritage Classic magazine delivered the decisive blow.
Written personally by Elena Monroe, the eight-page feature was titled:
[THE TRUTH UNDER THE HOOD]
In the article, I was portrayed as possessing top-tier expertise not only in restoration but also in vehicle appraisal.
Thanks to that, the cars lined up in front of the shop were not here to commission restorations. Their owners were more like pilgrims who had come to receive an inspection report stamped with the initials “J. KWON.”
“Waiting number eight! Bring in the Porsche!”
Vroom—
The moment Noah spoke, a white vintage Porsche Carrera loaded onto a private trailer was brought into the shop.
Judging by the license plate, it had come from California.
Even from the nearest city in California, that must be at least six hundred miles—about nine hundred sixty-five kilometers...
Click—
“Oh, so you’re the Jason Kwon! It’s a pleasure to meet you!”
The middle-aged man who climbed out of the car grabbed my hand hard enough to crush it.
“Hello. You’ve come from quite far away, though. There should be plenty of highly qualified vehicle appraisers in California...”
“Hahaha, that’s true. But I wanted to see Jason in person at least once. Besides, having a car appraised here can raise its value by as much as twenty percent. Not that I have much intention of selling mine.”
“What? Twenty percent? Surely it can’t be that much.”
Some variation in market value depending on the certifying organization was common in the classic-car industry, but I had never heard of a difference that large.
“Huh? Jason, you didn’t know? You’re all over YouTube right now. Videos where other experts tear apart the cars you inspected and compare their findings against yours have become incredibly popular.”
Noah cut in from beside me and handed me his phone. On the screen were videos titled:
Testing J. Kwon’s Inspection!
40-Year Expert vs. J. Kwon
J. Kwon’s Inspection Got Me $2,000 More
There were countless videos mentioning my name. In other words, I kept becoming famous in places I knew nothing about.
Seeing my name plastered across one thumbnail after another made my face burn.
Still, the publicity had brought substantial financial benefits. For the time being, I had set inspection fees on a sliding scale according to the vehicle’s market value, ranging from five hundred dollars per car to as much as fifteen hundred.
The fees themselves were not particularly high compared to the industry average, but with this volume of work, it was a different story.
It had only just passed noon, yet this was already the eighth vehicle I had inspected.
Still, can I really finish all of these today?
The problem was that instead of shrinking, the waiting line grew by another car with every passing hour.
I hurriedly stuffed the sandwich I had bought for lunch into my mouth and resumed inspecting the vehicle.
“Are you here for a valuation or a condition inspection?”
Vehicle inspections broadly fell into two categories.
The first was a valuation. Auction houses and insurance companies mainly used these to determine a vehicle’s market value, and the A3 and A7 grades mentioned earlier fell under this category.
The second was a condition inspection. These focused less on the vehicle’s value and more on assessing its current condition for the owner, a prospective buyer, or maintenance purposes.
“I just bought it used last week. I’d like a condition inspection, please.”
“Of course. Please wait a moment, and I’ll let you know the results.”
While the man sat in the thoroughly inadequate waiting area, which consisted of several folding camping chairs lined up together, I immediately began the inspection.
[1987 Porsche 911 (930) Carrera]
Whoosh—
Basic information surged into my mind like a tidal wave.
Drawing not only on my appraisal skills but also on all the experience I had accumulated, I carefully examined the interior, exterior, suspension and underbody, powertrain, including the engine and transmission, and every other component one by one.
No matter how many people were waiting, they had come because of my name, so I had no intention of giving them a rushed inspection.
“First, it’s definitely a G-body. The engine is the original 3.2-liter unit, and the transmission is a genuine G50. This model year was the first to use that transmission. It has better shift feel and greater durability than the previous one. You chose a good car.”
“Then there aren’t any particular defects?”
“Haha, that would be difficult for a car of this age. Rather than defects, these are common age-related issues. There’s some play in the suspension joints and slight oil seepage from the valve cover. Neither requires immediate attention. Monitor them gradually and have them serviced later if they worsen.”
After checking every section of the industry-standard Condition Report—all twenty-three items—I signed the final inspector’s field.
Scratch, scratch—
“J. Kwon.”
“Ohhh, finally!”
The man let out an exclamation as he held the inspection report bearing my signature.
“Mr. Kwon, thank you very much. Hearing it from an inspector I can trust puts my mind completely at ease. I’ve dreamed of owning an old Porsche my entire life, but I was worried I might have bought a bad one. The time I spent coming here was worth it.”
Beaming, the man carefully loaded his Porsche back onto the trailer.
Before I could even feel proud at the sight—
“Waiting number nine!”
Noah’s booming shout and the thunderous exhaust note of a muscle car slammed into my ears.
Rumble—
“It’s a Chevrolet Nova!”
“Achoo!”
Looks like short sleeves and shorts won’t cut it anymore.
Early that morning, the air against my skin inside the restoration shop felt distinctly different from before.
Come to think of it, it’s already late November.
I had been so busy handling the flood of inspection vehicles that I had completely lost track of time.
Fortunately, things had improved significantly since yesterday thanks to the online reservation system Noah had designed.
As recently as two days ago, whenever I woke up in the morning and opened the rolling door, several trailers would already be waiting outside to receive their numbered tickets.
Rattle—
Thankfully, no one was there today.
I never thought I would be so happy to see an empty wasteland.
“Whew...”
I stood in the morning sunlight for a moment and slowly stretched out my hunched body.
Then I went to the kitchenette and brewed coffee.
It was freshly ground coffee for the first time in a while.
Coffee really does taste better when the weather is cool.
White steam rose from the mug, carrying the rich aroma of coffee.
Rub, rub—
Dusty, who had apparently already woken up, came over and rubbed himself against my calf.
“Good morning, Dusty. Let’s go for a walk before the first customer arrives.”
I threw on a light fleece jacket and headed outside.
The gentle breeze was just cool enough to feel pleasant.
It would not be an exaggeration to call November the most pleasant month of the year in southern Arizona.
Even at night, the temperature did not fall below forty-one degrees Fahrenheit, or five degrees Celsius, and during the day, it did not rise above seventy-seven degrees Fahrenheit, or twenty-five degrees Celsius.
There was no rain, no humidity, and no strong wind. The weather was simply perfect.
Sniff, sniff—
Dusty pulled me along even more energetically than usual, stretching the leash taut.
Lately, his appetite seemed to have exploded, and he had begun eating noticeably more food and treats.
As a result, his coat gleamed, and his eyes looked especially bright.
Both his size and appearance were completely different from when I had first met him.
The name Dusty hardly suited him anymore.
Watching him wag his tail as he wandered between the dry grass and shrubs brought a smile to my face.
Going for a walk always felt bothersome before I left, but once I was outside, it had many benefits.
Beyond getting fresh air and sunlight, it helped me organize my thoughts.
My biggest concern lately was the lack of space.
It looks like I’m going to need a customer waiting room and an office from now on... And there’s a limit to what I can do with only one lift.
After dealing with so many customers recently, I had become keenly aware of the shop’s shortcomings.
In particular, over the past several weeks, inspection vehicles had occupied the shop’s only lift for almost the entire day, making it impossible to bring in restoration projects even if I wanted to.
For now, the attention surrounding me meant I could earn more than enough money from inspections alone.
But I was not an actual celebrity or influencer, and there was no telling when the public’s enthusiasm would die down.
Besides, my real work is restoration, not inspection.
I found fulfillment in waking old vehicles that had slumbered for decades and making them run again.
Noah, who was learning under me, felt the same way.
Of course, that did not mean I was enough of an idealist to refuse to strike while the iron was hot.
If I wanted to achieve my next goal of expanding the business, earning as much money as possible had to come first.
Noah happened to have the day off, so I worked slightly later than usual. Since the entire day had consisted of inspections, however, the work had not been particularly hard on my body.
“Dusty, you worked hard too.”
Dusty looked even more exhausted than I did after spending the entire day warily watching everyone who came and went, so I rewarded him with a jerky treat.
It was a slightly upgraded brand I had bought with the healthy profits from the recent inspection boom.
Chomp, chomp, chomp—
One piece of jerky seemed to erase all of Dusty’s stress from the day, and he quickly began wagging his tail again.
“And this is mine.”
If Dusty had jerky, I had a refrigerator stocked full of cold beer.
Hiss—
If cars and canned beer had one thing in common, it was that the sound alone could make a man’s heart race.
“Ahhh...”
Just as I took the first sip I had been looking forward to all day, I received a call from an unexpected number.
“Hello? Richard?”
Enjoying the refreshing beer as it slid down my throat, I answered the call warmly.
“Jason! You sound well. I hear you’ve been very busy lately.”
“Yes, thanks to several things. Have you been doing well too, Richard?”
“Hahaha, I’m having the best days of my life.”
Richard had demonstrated tremendous leadership amid the turmoil of a massive industry realignment.
In particular, he appeared to be pouring enormous capital and energy into improving Sterling’s credibility by drawing a clear line between the company and Blackwood.
“Anyway, putting that aside, I was hoping you could make some time for me. All of this is thanks to you, and I don’t think I’ve properly expressed my gratitude. I’m also curious about how you’ve been doing.”
As it happened, I also had something I wanted to discuss with him regarding business.
“All right. Would a later hour after dinner work for you? My reservations are fully booked during business hours, so I don’t think I’ll be able to get away for a while.”
“Hahaha, that busy, are you? Hmm... Then how about right now? You’ve probably already eaten anyway. If you’re available, let’s have a drink, just the two of us. I’ll send a car for you.”
My beer without anything to snack on had been feeling a little unsatisfying anyway.
“...That sounds good.”
The big boss had made me an offer I could not refuse.
[1987 Porsche 911 Carrera (S-Series)]
CC BY 2.0, photo by usf1fan2