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/ BY EZRA DYER /↓ OWNER’S MANUAL
My enthusiasm
was cratering
even before
I crawled
underneath.
34 June 2019 _ PopularMechanics.com
LIKE ANYONE who’s into cars and considers himself an unheralded economic genius,
I constantly peruse Craigslist for great deals. But I never actually buy anything, which
means that I’m tormenting myself by adding to an ever-grow ing menta l roster of missed
opportunities. The Moby-Dick of that catalog is a white ’90s Bronco that I snoozed on in
2012, with a 7.3-liter diesel and five-speed swap, advertised for $5,500. I hemmed and
hawed for a day and decided to pull the trigger, but by then it was gone. A friend of mine
said he saw it for sale again the other day—for $29,900.
So when I recently clicked on another Bronco that looked like a swell
deal, I called the owner and told him to consider it sold. The Bronco in ques-
tion, a green-and-tan 1996 Eddie Bauer, had the usual rust over the rear
fender lips, but looked otherwise clean, with nice paint and low (for the year)
mileage. Price: $3,200. Granted, I already own a 1993 Bronco, because my
original whiff on the white one sent me on an odyssey to build a similar ver-
sion for myself. This one, then, would be a fun fix-and-flip project, and my
experiences with my own truck led to a certain blasé attitude toward what
should have been Beware All Ye Who Go Here warning signs. Like when
the owner told me he doesn’t fill the gas tank all the way because it leaks, I
said, “That’s probably just the filler neck. I replaced that on mine, too, after I realized I
was pumping fuel all over my shoes.” Easy fix!
I set off on the 250-mile drive towing a trailer with my sister-in-law’s Yukon XL. Time
to stop regretting things I didn’t do, and start regretting things I did! I thought about how
smart I was to see the potential in an old plow
truck—yes, this Bronco had a plow, the univer-
sal signifier of a beat-to-hell truck. But the guy
was selling it because it doesn’t snow enough
in Virginia. Which is kind of like if he said the
Bronco was used as a chicken coop for a while,
but then a raccoon killed all the chickens so it
didn’t get filled with manure nearly as much as it
would have if the farm lived up to expectations.
When I arrived at the seller’s house, I imme-
diately noticed rust bubbling through the lower
part of the Bronco’s rear fenders, the tan por-
tion of the two-tone Eddie Bauer color scheme.
In the Craigslist photos, you couldn’t perceive
the difference between brown rust and tan
paint. In person, it was obvious.
I opened the driver’s-side door and saw rust
on the sills. Behind the shiny chrome front
bumper, the mounts were almost completely
gone. The tailgate wasn’t rusty, but the body-
work inside it was a twisted orange confusion
of ragged metal. My enthusiasm was cratering
even before I crawled under the truck, where it
looked like the wreck of a Civil War blockade
runner. This thing would require a lot of work.
And whoever did it would need to be up on their
tetanus shots.
What a confounding vehicle. From some
angles, it looked beautiful. But from others, it
was straight-up cash for clunkers. “I told you it
was a plow truck,” said Bob. Yes, I know. But I
didn’t want to listen.
I drove home with my trailer empty and
my heart full of self-loathing. Along the way, I
called my friend Keith to commiserate. When
I told him of my fruitless boondoggle, he said,
“Man, I can’t tell you how many
times that’s happened to me. But
hey, no risk, no reward.” I may or
may not have repeated this senti-
ment to my wife shortly thereafter.
I’m now embarking on a self-
imposed ban from amateur
automotive price arbitrage. The
only way to play this game is to buy
an old car that you like, drive it, and
enjoy it. Maybe someday you’ll sell
it. And maybe you’ll make money. The only guar-
antee is that no matter who buys it, someone
else will be out there, knowing for sure that they
missed out on the deal of the century.Chasing Craigslist Dreams
image 3 of 3Driving away from a bad deal.