For Reprint Permission, contact Barbara Spear
The end of the season is the best time to get price deals on new cars, or so they say. Since I was in the market for a winter car so I could garage my Vette during the snowy months, I figured October would be a good month to shop for one. The new models were already out, so any of last-year's models remaining at the dealerships should be priced to move. Purchasing in October would also give me a chance to get to know my new vehicle before testing its abilities on snowy and icy winter roads. There's a Jeep dealer on the outskirts of the small town where I live so that seemed the logical place to start my search for a four wheel drive winter vehicle.
The salesman who approached me when I entered the showroom seemed nice enough, though I got the impression he was more interested in finishing his take-out dinner than showing me last-year's Jeeps. With a friendly note of indifference in his voice, he pointed me to the back lot where all the used car trade-ins and remainder cars were parked. Somewhat relieved to know I could browse at my leisure, I left the showroom and made my way to the back lot.
There was a chain link fence around three sides of the lot, but the back was open to the farm fields behind it. I guess the dealership felt the odds of someone stealing a car and driving it through the fields wasn't too likely--or at least not likely enough to justify the cost of the extra fencing.
I made my way past the odd assortment of trade-in vehicles, mostly newer model sedans with an occasional pickup. Toward the back of the lot I spotted the Jeeps I wanted to see, so I continued walking. Just as I neared the first remaindered Jeep, something at the very back of the lot caught my eye. It was dark back there as most of the cars were parked under the lights toward the front. Ignoring the Jeeps, I went directly to the far corner of the lot.
To my amazement, there sat a beautiful 1962 white with red Corvette convertible. The Vette was immaculate--why it looked like it had never been driven. There wasn't a ding or scratch on its sleek body. As I got closer, I saw it had a window sticker with all the options listed. The price at the bottom was $5046.75.
This must be a joke, I thought. There's no way this dealership will let a classic Vette go for what appeared to be the original sticker price.
Without even checking the Jeeps I'd come for, I rushed back to the showroom. My salesman was now on the phone, obviously trying to line up a date for the evening.
"Excuse me," I interrupted, "what's the story with the Vette?"
The salesman looked at me as though I were crazy, cupped his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, then said emphatically, "We don't have any Vette on our lot. I thought you wanted a Jeep."
Assuming the salesman was too preoccupied to be bothered, I found the sales manager and repeated my question.
He too insisted there was no Vette--let alone a classic model--on the lot.
By now I was getting irritated, so I insisted that the manager follow me out to the lot so I could show him. As we walked toward the dark corner of the lot, I pointed to where I'd seen the 62. The manger shrugged and said obnoxiously, "I don't see any Vette there sweetie." I looked up and found myself gazing at nothing but the shadows and the empty farm field.
Totally embarrassed, I made some feeble comment about swearing I'd seen a Vette there, but my eyes must have played a trick on me. I'm sure the manager thought I was a nut-case as he walked disgustedly back toward the showroom.
As soon as he disappeared into the building, I turned again toward the back of the lot.
There it was again.
This time I examined the Vette more closely, jotting down its VIN number before I left.
I really didn't know what to do. There was no question I wanted that 62, especially at its sticker price, but how could I buy a car the dealer couldn't see? More importantly, why could I see the car?
A few days later, I told my story to the old mechanic at the local gas station. He was a longtime Corvette fan, so I figured he'd at least be amused by my strange story.
Amused? Well, that wasn't exactly his reaction. He turned as pale as that 62's Ermine White body. When I finished he volunteered...
"So, you actually saw it. Nobody's seen that car for almost 35 years." He paused and shook his head before continuing.
"Back in the 60's, that was a Chevy dealership and the owner was a real sportscar nut."
Copyright 1997 Barbara Spear
Copyright 1996 Barbara Spear
