Getting Frostbit

We bought Frostbite on January 2, 2010 and it was a cold, cold day. My daughter for some reason was very interested in frostbite, the injury. She asked one question after another all about frostbite. What does it do to you? How do you get it? What does it look like? Do fingers and toes grow back? What do they do with the parts that they cut off? etc, etc, etc.

It was inhumanely cold that Tennessee day. Temps in the teens. I know some Canadian joker will be the first to exclaim "15 DEGREES?!?! That's not cold!. Last time it got up to 15 degrees here we took a picnic lunch to the lake!" Here in Tennessee, however, under 20 is not just cold, it is damn cold. The sort of cold that doesn't happen very often. The sort of cold that make you intimately familiar with just how thin dress pants really are. The sort of cold that makes people living in the south contemplate moving further south. Man, it was cold!

We had a hitch put on Bluebell just 2 days earlier so we could actually go out an look at campers. Personally, I don't see the point of shopping if I'm not able to buy so I didn't call about any campers for sale until I had the money and the means to pull the camper.

Anyway we noticed a new Craig's list ad, we called, "yes, it was still for sale" and "yes, we could come ahead and look at." After a trip to the bank to get cash (just in case) we were off. We drove about an hour away to Clarksville, TN. I alternated between focusing on our GPS directions and my daughter's constant questions and stories about frostbite.

Eventually, we arrived. It wasn't a house at all. It was a business. A fortune telling/palm reading business no less. I met the owner, a gentleman, who was very affable. The camper was set up in the back and we looked it over as best we could despite the insane cold. He had a Yankee accent so I assumed he was from New York City. Down south, the more Yankee you sound, the closer to NYC you must be from. I can't really explain that. I also can't remember this gentelman's name so, from this point forward, I'll just refer to him as the "New York Dude."

Here's the part where I need to confess something. I made a point to walk around the camper touching things, crouching down to get a better look at things, opening and closing things. I hope it appeared visually like I actually knew what I was doing. The sad fact is I know pretty much 2 things about vehicles in general much less campers: diddly and squat. I described the full extent of my mechanical prowerness in a previous post. This camper has tires that were not flat and while there was a 12 volt battery on the hitch, I was confident that I could replace it should the need arise. The rest of the inspection was pretty much worthless as far as me gathering valid information. It was a 1983 Starcraft 20' Venture. A collection of meaningless facts and tidbits of info that meant little to me other than to make me think "Dang, that thing's 26 years old."

Not exactly a complete evaluation, I know. I did ask the New York Dude and he assured me that "everything works!" I was observant enough to realize that it had no AC, no heat, and no bathroom. There were some scratches and a couple of tears in the canvas and such.

I asked about the electrity (no electricity was hooked up when we were looking at it).

"Everything works!" the New York Dude assured me.

I asked about the propane stove.

"Everything works!"

I ask about the water and sink.

"Everything works!"

I asked about the brake lights and turn signals.

"Everything works!"

Despite the camper managing to have exactly zero of our "Must Haves, no ifs, ands, or buts, Gotta have it" features. The only thing that ran through my mind at that moment was "hmmm. . . Everything works. That's good enough for me."

I asked my wife ,"So, what do you think?" She replied "I don't know. What do you think?"

With that *discussion* behind us, I decided it was time to make an offer. The New York Dude wanted $1200 but asked us to name a price.

My wife whispered "offer him $600" in my ear.

Ignoring that for no valid reason, I said, "I'll give you $900"

The New York Dude pondered that for a moment and said "If you can meet me in the middle a bit and up it to $1000, you've got a deal."

I asked my wife ,"So, what do you think?" She replied "I don't know. What do you think?"

I told him "We'll do it!"

Please don't bombard me with "Bah! What an idiot" or "Hey Genius, you can get one twenty years newer for the same money!" All I can say is "Not ME!" I never fall into deals like that. Besides, a deal is a deal, anyway, I'm not going to whine about anything.

I've gotten rooked on nearly every car, house, furniture set, and every other major purchase I've ever bought and I'm not about to screw up that perfect record now.

I was handed a title at some point and I do remember unfolding it and looking at it. I did not actually READ it, however. Nor did I make sure that ownership was signed over. Nor did I even look to make sure that it was a title for the camper I just gave $1000 cash for.

Funny, I still haven't looked at the title to verify those things. There is a part of me that doesn't want to risk it.

I did remember to ask for a receipt of some type. I followed the New York Dude into the building thinking I would get a semi "official" looking receipt from a business receipt book. Do fortune tellers offer receipts to clients? Can you use a CC to pay a fortune teller? If not, I wonder why?

The New York Dude brought me a plain paper pad and a pen. He told me "Just write whatever you want it to say and I'll read and sign it." oh, great. I scribble something like:

1983 Starcraft popup camper.
Sold for $1000

The New York Dude looks at it and then adds the date at the top (The Date? Doh!) and then adds" Sold As Is" at the bottom (double Doh!). I was starting to fear that my facade of "Educated Camper Buyer" was in danger of crumbling right there. I wanted to leave before it because obvious that I didn't have a clue as to what I was doing."

With a final "Everything works," we lowered the popup, hitched it up to Bluebell and drove away.

Two blocks later, it occurs that I should, AT LEAST, verify that the lights and turn signals work. I have a thing about being pulled over. I hate it. I pulled into a parking lot to have my wife operate the controls while I watch the back of the popup.

Everything worked.

Everything was working as long you define "working" as meaning that the lights do come on and flash as the driver operates the various controls. Which lights flash for which specific controls is another matter. I figured that since it was daytime and I can generate a eye catching light display whenever I'm stopping,turning, or hitting a larger than average pothole, everything would be fine.

We just engaged in what I like to call the "Holder Style" of purchasing things. We bought the first camper we actually went out and looked at. I wonder if the New York Dude somehow *knew* we would be employing this technique. The physical exchange of money for a tattered old title which, for all I honestly know is really for a 1978 Pinto, went amazingly smooth.

At some point during the hour drive back home, my daughter named our camper, Frostbite.

It is the perfect name.

Coming up:

Frostbite comes home