February 2005
It seems that everyone gets some kind of a deal when buying a big-ticket item like a new car or a used airplane. Well, everyone but me. In his youth, my Dad was a horse trader. He could start out the day with a spavined, sore-backed nag at sunrise and come home that night with a string of cow ponies. The result of my horse trading was usually the reverse.
Obviously, making deals is a trait that cannot be inherited. Several years ago, I had the opportunity to trade in a four-year-old Ford. Because of a recall defect, they offered a $4,000 credit toward the purchase of a new Ford, so I picked out a $19,000 pickup, and after subtracting the $3,000 trade-in and the credit, figured a net of about $12,000.
But by the time a few undefined charges had been added, I ended up owing a bit over $17,000! I should have known better. I am a born cynic, and I know that no self-respecting retailer is going to lose any potential profit on a sale—Sam Walton did not get to be America’s richest person by cutting his margin.
However, it seems like everyone else is always getting a deal. “I only paid $10,000 for that same pickup,” one (now former) friend bragged, adding, “of course, it was a cash deal, no trade-in.”
Yeah, yeah. The last time I tried that, they added a 10 percent premium for not having a trade-in and using cash. But I have the feeling that no one tells the truth when it comes to how much they pay for a car or an airplane—or how well they perform in the boudoir.
I got close once. A 1963 ad in the Denver Post classifieds caught my eye: “FOR SALE—1962 Jag XKE coupe. 2,000 mi., good engine, no dents, $1,000 o.b.o.” Had to be a misprint; even used E-types were at $6,000 and everyone wanted one.
Then I heard the rest of the story. Seems as though its former owner drove it to a secluded place up in the mountains one November day and done hisself in with a .45 automatic. Around April 1, someone noticed the odor and went to investigate, and voilà! All the reclaiming scenarios my imagination could create short-circuited instantly.
When I was learning to fly, I came up with a plan to cut down on the $8 an hour the flight school wanted for its 172. A friend who owned an Aeronca of dubious but airworthy quality needed to raise some cash and offered me half ownership for $1,000, and it took a while to find that much.
On the day I was going to write the check, high winds picked the two-seater up and deposited it very expensively on its uninsured topside. Well, I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck! I wasn’t paying for half of this pig in a poke, no, sir, so with nowhere else to turn, he offered it to the highest bidder, which turned out to be a guy with $2,500 to spend.
Arrgh! I coulda made $250 before the check even cleared!
Fast-forward twenty years to my next airplane deal: I was at an ad agency with an (anonymous) airframe manufacturer client with a $3 million commuter turboprop that was nearing certification. And as is the case of new models, individual production slots were being sold—at $50,000 per.
So it was that I got a phone call one day. “I understand you own production number 18,” the voice at the other end said, “and you might want to sell your position.”
“Go on,” I replied after a long hesitation. The possibilities, however mysterious, sounded potentially profitable.
“I’d be willing to pay, say, $100,000 for it.”
“Well,” I countered, “I have a partner that I’ll have to talk with. Give me your number and I’ll call you back.”
I called my contact at the factory immediately and he confessed that he had secured the slot without the money, and since it was unlawful for an employee to put his name on the dotted line, he had just substituted mine, figuring he could sell the position before I found out. And, of course, he would split the profit with me. Uh-huh.
Sensing a possible good deal, I talked with the company’s sales manager without revealing who was responsible. Apparently he already knew what was afoot. “Fine,” he said, “either send me a check for fifty grand, or the name of your lawyer.”
When it comes to snap decisions, I have no problem, so I said, “Can we pretend this never happened?” “You hear that noise? That’s the sound of my pen crossing your name off the record!”
Maybe the negotiating gene skips generations. My New York daughter can make deals without trying. We flew from Texas to Ohio to meet her and her husband at his parents last Thanksgiving. I spent well over $700 just getting there and back; their round-trip airline fares totaled $192, plus she rented a car from Hertz for $24 a day. Maybe next time I try to buy a big-ticket item, I’ll just hire her.
Daryl Murphy has been writing about and flying a variety of aircraft for 36 years. In addition to this magazine, his work appears in General Aviation News and Aviation International News, and he has written five aviation books and one on automobile racing.
