Date: Tue, 23 Sep 1997 12:39:56 -0700 From: Charlie Ford To: type2@bigkitty.azaccess.com Subject: A Dodge City Auction in Sedalia It was billed as a Volkswagen Auction. It was to be held rain or shine in Sedalia , Mo. on September 20, 1997. The truth be told it was shear entertainment from the first drop of the gavel. This was my first experience attending such an event. Craig from the list had sent us an e mail with an attachment that explained most of what was to be sold at this gathering 150 miles from Saint Louis. Bill Bowman, who I am still staying with could not attend because his parents had called and said they would be dropping in to see their son. So I decided that I would go with Pat Hoffman, Kurt Smith, and Brian, all of the St. Louis area, and all VW enthusiast. The guys picked me up early Saturday morning. Early meaning somewhere around 5 AM. The intention was to get to Sedalia as quickly as possible so we could walk around and view the articles and parts and cars to be sold. We figured we could pick and choose what we wanted to bid on. I knew that I couldn't bid much since my money's are somewhat slight these days. The only one among us that had any real money would have had to be Kurt, who hoards his away for a rainy day. I wish I had learned that practice early on. We drove along I-70 west at about 70 miles an hour in Pat's 94 Ford extended cab pickup. I folded my 6.4 frame into the area behind the passenger seat, leaned my head back and fell back into a reasonably restful sleep. As large as I am I can still find comfort in tight places, of course yoga helps in doing this. You just have to relax and accept the fact that your legs are going to go to sleep and eventually become somewhat numb. We drove along pulling a lowboy trailer behind us, expecting to buy minimally but prepared for large purchases just in case. We arrived at the Auction site around 8:30 AM. The official start time was 11:00 AM so we walked around, and "took a look at all of the fair that sat there". Now you would expect there to be some organization to this type event. You would expect that the person owning the goods would lay everything out in some categorical system so that they would be able to gain as much money as possible from the sales. This was not the case at all. Things were everywhere. The items were still surrounded by weeds with trees growing right out of the trunk, hood, box, or in a couple cases the sunroof. These were not small trees or shrubs, these were the type you take out with a log skidder. It should have been explained that if you wanted to buy a car you would need to bring your own chain saw. The Auctioneer, H. Matt Dillon did explain in the opening disclaimer that there was a chain saw available to those who hadn't brought their own. After we walked around a bit we all came to the same agreement that there was very little to bid on that would be worth it. There were some new and used parts that were worth waiting on. There was also a few tools that each of us could have used sometime in our VW experience. We decided to stick it out and see what was what. Probably the best thing about the auction was the fact that there were many people showing up that we all knew. Darrell Boehler from Illinois had driven up, Joe Fournier had come from Memphis and had brought along his father, Brian Shaffer had come down from Arkansas, Dan Kinsey had also decided to make an appearance. Someone said that Jon Christenson was there but I didn't see him, I wish I had, we barely got to speak at Busses by the Arch, seemed like a nice guy to get to know. But then on the other hand, he may not have wanted to know me. As the morning progressed we all got a little restless. Not that the bargains to be had were the best, but the crowd was growing bigger and the general consensus all the way around was that it needed more and better organization and we just needed to get "it" done. We stood, drank coffee, and waited. We renewed acquaintances, shook hands, laughed, and talked about the change of the weather. It had grown much cooler. Suddenly a tall man with a cowboy hat and a nose long enough that he could smoke a cigarette in the shower without it getting wet, told us where we could get our number for the bidding. He had a really high pitch voice that irritated the ears with it shrill squeak. I think this made us all want to hurry and get the damn number so he would shut up. After getting the official number for bidding we heard another voice calling us to one side of the lot. This was where the auction was to begin. A short fat man, also wearing a cowboy hat, stood in the back of a pickup truck and started explaining the purpose of the auction. He had a strong country drawl that sounded like a mixture of Texas and Kansas farm boy, or Missouri and Arkansas farm boy, but then maybe it was Georgia and Alabama, ya'll know what I mean. This ladies and gentleman was H. Matt Dillon, Auctioneer. He wore a rounded face and a blue shirt. He donned cowboy boots and a big belly. He brought information and entertainment. I kept wondering if his tall cohort name might have been Festus. The lady in the back of the truck playing secretary was wearing as much make-up as Miss Kitty. Here we all were in a modern day saga of Gunsmoke. Damn where was Newly......no wait......he was driving the truck. He explained to us that Dan, the fellow that had passed away and left this estate of junk was VW mechanic. He was also a good man with a lot of friends. His wife Mary, she was not a VW mechanic, wanted to clear the lot of all of the cars he forgot to move before he died. She wanted to get top dollar for all that she could and what was left she was gonna let the another junkyard get. I am sure there will be some of the same stuff on sell there in a few years, ya'll watch the paper now. Matt told us that all sales were final. He said that if you couldn't move the purchase out today that you could move it out in a couple of days. But if it were left for a long time then it would also be sent to the crusher or another junkyard. Leaving the purchase was at your risk, not Mary's. The first thing to be sold was nothing more than junk. Pure and simple junk, nothing exiting about this junk at all. There was a row of junk that had been laid out in the yard behind a shed that was full of more junk. Junk on top of junk. After the row and the shed were sold for a dollar, then they moved on to more junk that was spread out in another part of the yard by another shed full of junk. Nasty junk laid around everywhere. But then one man's junk is another man's treasure. All I saw was junk. As we weeded through all the junk we got to a row where there was a little better quality junk than before. It also started to rain about that time so there we stood , wet and looking at the better quality junk. The tall skinny guy with the shrill voice had started the auction. He was a slow auctioneer with no excitement in his calls. He kept saying something like "5 dollar palm means 5.50 palm means 5.50 palm = 6 means 5.50 means 6 means palm 6 means palm 6.50". Anybody know what "palm" has to do with selling junk? Please tell me, I am dying to know! As the junk grew higher in quality his brother Matt finally took over. H. Matt Dillon pulled his overly obese belly and cowboy boots onto the truck and started his dancing chant. Now this man had rhythm. He sounded like a banjo from Hee Haw. Between each new bid he threw in a "binkety-binkety-bink" then proceeded to call the next bid. "sickety five sickety five 70 gets 75, binkety-binkety-bink". Damn this guy had people stomping their feet to the rhythm. He was good, and entertaining. At one point Pat Hoffman and myself got to doing a square dance to the rhythm of good old H. Matt. Matt made junk sound like treasure. The farther along the auction progressed the more entertaining it got. I am not sure whether it was because we had all gotten up so early and were giddy because of lack of sleep or whether we were just captured by the energy that was created by the event and Matt. It could have certainy been both. Life was good even in the rain that now was falling a bi harder Finally after an hour or so the truck hauling the auctioneer moved around toward the VW stuff or junk, whichever you prefer. It appeared that the crowd sighed a sigh of relief that could be heard for miles around. Most of the folks in attendance were either die hard VW buffs, or die hard mechanics. The VW buffs, as always kept their cool and showed very little anxiety as the truck approached. The mechanics on the other hand started developing a ribbon of sweat across the brow and saliva started dripping from the sides of their mouth. wallets were defintely pulsating for these guys. H. Matt Dillon was starting to get "hot" with his calls. He was faster than he had been before and had figured out who in the crowd was likely to bid. As he grew hotter with the calls, his belly grew bigger and he settled into that "auctioneer zone" slump, much as a cat settles low right before it is about to pounce on its chosen prey. He had fire in his eyes and vengance in his voice. Matt's shirt was a bit small, and the farther down he slumped, his buttons became more and more torqued with the increased belly inflation. I would say that the lower few buttons were setting around 120 pounds per square inch. He didn't seem to mind and neither did we, although many were noticing the phonomena happening befoee their very eyes. Miss Kitty appeared to be quite excited herself by the fact that Matt's shirt stretching like it was. she had started to squirm. But them it could have been the rain. Matt bellowed out his calls, and each time he would get to an item that had the Bosch lettering on it he would emphasize it by saying "Now folks this is Bausch! Bausch!, and you all know that Bausch! is good stuff and high quality". Matt would say this as if he knew what Bosch was. After a while of doing the auctineering Matt took a break. I am sure his voice was tired and he needed to drink a little something so he could maintain his calling voice for the rest of the day. He turned the microphone back over to his brother Festus with the shrill irritating voice. It was time for me to withdraw from all the excitement and visit the junkyard of old cars in the back lot. Many strolled along with me. I had heard that the only two real finds to be had in the car yard were two busses. A 23 window, and a 21 window. Dan Kinsey, another fellow, and myself walked back and found them. I must say it was a crying shame to see these two former great busses sitting there with trees and shrubs growing in them. The 23 window was not in that bad a shape except for the fact that they would have take a lot of time and money to restore. Dan, in his wondering found a nice old engine bonnet that he clandestinely stuck inside a bug he said he would buy later in the day. I didn't see anything wrong with stowing away some stuff. People were stealing stuff right and left. The emblem on the 21 window had been stolen already. It was there early this morning but now it had disappeared and surely was locked away inside someone's car by now. I found a set of window vent shades laying on the ground, I scooped them up to save them from the crusher. Darrell bought a press that will be fitfully used as such in a week or so. As the day lingered on the weather changed nice again, Matts voice grew weaker, and sleep started calling for my attention. Around 5:30 PM we all piled in the truck to head back to Saint Louis. Kurt had bought an Olds Firenza for $430.00 to resell so we stacked it on the trailer. Pat picked up a box of parts for $15.00 or so along with a little trailer to pull behind his four wheeler. I bought a timing light for $2.00, but later found that it could only be used as a boat anchor, it wouldn't even try to work as a timing light. I also got an axle nut tool, hell what could be wrong with it? It was the most workable thing I bought. I fell asleep as we drove home and dreamed of living the life of an auctioneer in Dodge City. I dreamed that my name was Newly, and I rode a mule named Bell. I worked at the local blacksmith shop on Volkswagen buggies where each month the sherriff would come by and do an auction. The next thing I remember was the lights of Saint Louis opening my eyes with their brightness. We had made it through the day with much laughter and entertainment. I am sure that by now Matt was also at home with a warm cloth draped around his neck. He had sold to his best ability, never once wavering against the odds. I had come to appreciate him more than he would ever know. A good day was had by all. I was thankfully going to sleep in the Mothership again tonight. I can only hope and pray that she will never end up in a junkyard or an auction. I will fight to the death to keep that from happening. I commit to that. Thanks for tolerating the ramblings. Charlie Ford "79" Transporter, dressed for the road The Mothership The"Turning 40 Nostalgic VW Service Tour, and Search for the Beginning of Wind". http://www.armory.com/~y21cvb/charlie/charlie.html "Wider still and wider.....shall thy bounds be set"