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I am wary of purchasing a vehicle at an auction, primarily because of the experience I had back in early 2002, when I was married. My husband approached me, insisting on attending a car auction. His contention was that it would be good to have a third car which we could use if either of our primary rides ever ran into mechanical issues. I didn’t have a problem with the logic, but I feared that we would get stuck with a car which would only add to our expenses and also collect dust.

We attended a car auction on a very hot Saturday, set our budget, and settled in for the experience. A BMW was the first auto up, and I was stunned when my husband Pete placed a bid on it. I tapped him on the arm and told him that the BMW wasn’t even in our budget, but he told me that he didn’t think he’d win the auction anyway, which actually turned out to be the case. A succession of halfway decent cars followed the BMW in the auction lineup, but we sat back and just observed the activity.

Then a green Ford Fiesta was driven to the auction block. Pete leaned towards me and said, “Babe, I wanna bid on this car, it’s definitely in our price range”, and seemed not to notice how old and dingy it was, with dulled paint and mismatched tires. My gut was telling me that bidding on the Fiesta was a bad idea, so I told him that. He brushed me off, and said he was bidding anyway. Long story short, he won the auction, and we had this crappy, ugly Ford Fiesta in our possession.

Since we had taken Pete’s car over to the auction, he suggested that I drive the Fiesta back to our residence. I will never forget how miserable the experience was, of driving that car home, because the engine had very little power, and the interior was filthy. Once we arrived home, I told Pete that I would never willingly drive the Fiesta, upon which he went ballistic and started yelling at me about how I had to use the car. In order to keep the peace, I drove the car to work twice, then never did it again.

Pete and I separated in May of 2002, and he found another place to live. What he failed to do was to take the Fiesta, so the car sat in a parking spot at our apartment complex. He told me that it was my responsibility to move the car every few days so as not to upset the apartment manager, but I refused to do so. I kept pleading with him to take the car to his place, but he stubbornly ignored my requests.

A couple of months later, I received a call from the Upland Police Department, asking me if my husband was available to verify ownership of a Ford Fiesta. When I replied that my husband was not available at the residence, the police officer informed me that the vehicle had been stolen, then recovered in a parking lot at a local park. I hadn’t even noticed that the car was missing! The officer stated that I needed to come to the park to pick up the vehicle, so I complied.

When I saw the car in the parking lot, I noticed that there were a bunch of deep gouges along the front hood and roof. I asked the officer what the gouges were from, and he told me that they were from skateboard wheels. Evidently, some skateboarders thought it would be cool to launch off the hood, causing considerable cosmetic damage to a vehicle I hated. I drove the heap back to the apartment complex, called Pete, and said, “Get your car. I’m not babysitting this thing any longer.”

Pete picked up the Fiesta and ended up giving it to his parents as an extra car. I felt so bad for my in-laws!