Shoppers inspect the vehicles at a monthly auction at Tampa Machinery Auction on U.S. 301 east of Temple Terrace. The sea of vehicles includes everything from pickups to firetrucks.
Father and son Bert, front, and Bret Hinkle of Sebring take a closeup look inside a car available for bidding at Tampa Machinery Auction's monthly sale.
"It's got a cop motor, a 440-cubic-inch plant, it's got cop tires, cop suspensions, cop shocks. It's a model made before catalytic converters so it'll run good on regular gas. What do you say, is it the new Blues Mobile or what?"
- Elwood Blues (Dan Aykroyd) to brother Jake Blues (John Belushi) in the movie, The Blues Brothers.
TEMPLE TERRACE - So this is where old police cruisers go to die, only to live again in a bargain shopper's garage. For as far as the eye can see, there are cars. Cars lined up in long rows for sale, and cars on the highway streaming into the vast parking lot of the Tampa Machinery Auction out on U.S. 301 east of Temple Terrace.
The second Saturday of every month, thousands of people from all over the state come looking for a deal on a new set of wheels at the largest public auto auction around. Even when it's 42 degrees, spitting rain and the inventory isn't what it usually is, the used car crowd turns out in force.
Gates open at 7:30 a.m. and the bidding begins at 9. Game on.
Lined up in tidy rows are cars of all makes and models (including the coveted white Ford Crown Victoria police cars,) pickups, vans, trucks, trailers, over-the-road tractors, garbage trucks, firetrucks, bucket trucks, digger derrick trucks, bulldozers, golf carts, motor scooters, ATVs and farm equipment.
The sea of vehicles, about 1,000 on this recent Saturday, comes from private sellers, commercial dealers, Salvation Army donation lots, municipal governments from across Central Florida.
The Tampa Machinery Auction is where "retired vehicles" are sent from sheriff's offices from Pasco to Sarasota counties. City-owned sedans are shipped in from Temple Terrace to Treasure Island. Utility vans from Orlando Utilities to Florida Progress make their final calls here, too.
Basically, if you can't find what you're looking for here, you just haven't looked hard enough.
Right up front, there's a 2003 Ford F250 XLT Supercab 4X4. Ooh, and over there is a pretty powder blue Mercedes 260E sedan with a Bucs license plate on the front and an Avila gate pass sticker in the windshield. Definitely a car with pedigree. And attitude, as evidenced by the widow stickers for the University of Vermont, Cornell University and the dated "Jeb!" bumper sticker.
Want something a little more old school? Here's a classic 1973 Mercedes 450 SL, a slick black convertible coupe in cherry condition.
Down the line sits a 1993 Volvo 740 GLE station wagon, apparently Junior's last ride before graduating. Comes with the Tampa Prep parking stickers, and the rear window sticker for Swarthmore College. Buyer beware, though. Another bumper sticker declares, "Bondurant Graduate, School of High Performance Driving."
In a Volvo?
Diamonds-in-the-rough are far outnumbered by the dogs, those unfortunate models that lost popularity faster than Blue Book value. How about a Colt Vista ("Imported for Dodge") station wagon bearing the Radio Disney decal? Or the Mitsubishi Mirage with 129,824 miles and a bumper sticker that says, "Don't tailgate me or I'll flick a booger on your windshield."
Oh and here's a rare find: a 1999 Daewoo Nubira. Nubira? Isn't that a Cirque du Soleil show? And what about this other 1990 Mitsubishi Mirage with the do-it-yourself two-tone paint job (faded red and faded blue) with the Department of Defense gate pass for Dobbins Air Force Base. It's a beater, but the sales price will include everything inside: jackets, knee-high women's boots, jeans, flip-flops, a laundry bag and an infant's play set in the back seat. The whole rig carries with it all the karma of a domestic disturbance gone bad.
Ah, but finally the Holy Grail of the lot: a 1997 White Crown Vic with 100,417 actual miles, last used by the Pasco County Sheriff's Office. Coolest thing about these cars is the hand-directed spotlight that snakes out of the driver's side window.
Just like on TV.
And if you don't like this one (okay, the interior looks like it made more than a few combative runs to the county jail), there are dozens more similar to it.
"Sure, there are some dogs," said Tampa Machinery Auction owner David Nelson. "But somebody's got to sell them."
He needed the job
Nelson started working at the auction about 20 years ago, and like the guy who used to do the Remington shaver commercials, he liked the place so much he bought it.
Originally from Jacksonville, Nelson went to high school in Sebring and then attended the University of South Florida for two years where he learned computer programming. Nelson dropped out of USF for financial reasons, and dropped into the auto auction for those same financial reasons. He needed the job.
"I got started back in the early '80s. I designed and wrote the computer software programs and just kind of got roped in," Nelson said. The auction had been around since 1971, but when Nelson got a chance to take it over, he jumped at it.
Ever since, it's been an auction a month, 12 of them a year, like clockwork.
For his effort, Nelson nets 10 percent of each sale. He employs seven full-time employees and on auction day hires another 50 or 60 workers. These include auctioneers, car starters, sign holders, ticket runners, cashiers, and records clerks. For one day, Nelson's lot turns into the state's largest retail auto outlet.
Typically, they sell 80 percent of what's out there, and that runs to more than 1,200 cars, trucks and assorted vehicles. They can easily move 1,000 sets of wheels in one eight-hour shift.
At the January auction, Nelson's auctioneers hollered "Sold!" about 800 times on a lot that held about 1,000 items. Not a bad day. Not a bad day at all.
Not much to go on
After parking the rides that delivered them to the auction, eager buyers walk past the Big Man's BBQ tailgate operation (7:30 a.m. is sort of early for pulled pork) and make for the free Krispy Kreme and coffee stand set up by three guys from Bell Shoals Baptist Church.
From there, they move through the fierce chain link fence topped with electric wire to the main office where they line up behind one of 20 service windows.
Each buyer fills out a simple registration form and is given a buyer's number. If they are the successful bidder on a car, that's the identification they'll need when paying for it.
Then, the fun begins.
For the next 90 minutes, shoppers prowl the rows of cars looking for bargains. There's not much to go on. In each window there's a sheet of paper describing the make, model, year and mileage, if available. If there are any known defects, Nelson's workers will have scribbled them in wax marker on the windshield; things like "bad transmission" or "no reverse" or "doesn't run."
"You just have to be kind of selective, but not too particular about what you want to buy," Nelson said.
A little before 9 a.m., four auctioneers climb into four small sheds on wheels. From there, they run four auctions simultaneously. After every few sales, a man in a golf cart pulls the shed down the row. This way, the auction moves up and down the rows of cars.
Ahead of the auctioneer's shed, workers quickly pop open hoods of cars three at a time and fire them up. Prospective buyers huddle shoulder to shoulder over the engines listening for any hidden defects, listening for the purr of a motor that still has oomph.
At 9 a.m. sharp it's game time. The auctioneers explain the ground rules. All purchases are "as is" with no warranties. All sales are final at the closing bid. All purchases must be paid in full on auction day with cash, a certified check or a personal check (though the buyer can't drive off until the check clears the bank.)
Auctioneer Jason Trunzo cranks it into gear. The first few hardly used trucks are no-sales because the bid price didn't exceed a predetermined minimum set by the owner. But then he gets to a mid '90s Crown Vic, a Tampa Police Department car with 87,969 miles on it.
Barking into a brittle public address system, Trunzo spins his staccato pitch. "500 hundred, badum, badum, bidda bum, 500 ... badum, badum, bidda how 'bout 550."
About 100 people, most of them men in jeans and boots and gimme caps, crowd around the noisy shed-on-wheels. At the center of the crowd, another auction employee is stationed to scan the bidders for tell-tale hand signals and discrete nods.
"Badum, badum, bidda-bum, 550, 550, badum, 600."
The din is constant and monotonous, almost trancelike as Trunzo climbs the price ladder. "I'm at 1,200 sir, stay with me now," he says, creating a Turkish bazaar frenzy around the old clunker. After another round of badums, Trunzo makes the sale at $1,300. (Nelson said Crown Victorias, depending on mileage and condition, usually bring $1,500 to $2,500.)
Working down the line a city of Tampa 1994 Ford F150 pickup sells for $2,100, the fine Mercedes convertible brings $4,800. And a sharp blue 1994 Ford Thunderbird LX tops out at $900, becoming the prized possession of 23-year-old Matthew Davidson.
The young man is all grins as he slips in behind the wheel of his new used car, which was a Salvation Army donation. "This is my first time ever buying anything here," he said. "It runs perfect."
Jim Scott, an 18-year-old Pasco County man, is a regular at the auction. His family runs an asphalt repair and maintenance business, and he had his eye on a brand new Geely 49cc motor scooter. If he is the high bidder, he'll use it to cruise around big subdivisions passing out fliers for work.
Like many here, Scott is a regular customer always on the lookout for a great deal.
"My dad's been coming here for about 10 years," Scott said. "There's a lot of good stuff comes through here. We've bought trucks, cars, vans, trailers. The best deal I got was on a Ford E150 van I only paid about $2,000 for. It's still running and it's got 346,000 miles on. Still use it every day."
Auctioneers take turns at the microphone, relieving each other from the rigors of the rat-a-tat delivery. In the shed now is 42-year auctioneer Jerry Woodham hawking a 1988 Saab 900. Another Salvation Army car, it's slow to fire up but when it does, the engine hums along smoothly.
Gerald Hardwick, who comes to the auction every month from his home in Tallahassee, scores it for a mere $300. "You're stealing cars today," Woodham said into the loudspeaker.
Hardwick is pleased with his purchase. "It didn't even smoke when it fired up," he said. "I've got one like it at home. Think I'll put the two together so I might get one good car out of it."
Tony Lamar came from Tallahassee, too. He got the ancient Mitsubishi Mirage, the one with all the clothes inside it, for the opening bid of $100. Nobody even challenged the price. "I need the parts," Lamar said. "I've got one just like it back home."
Lamar probably could have found those parts in Tallahassee, but likes working the auctions. "Gives me something to do," he said.
Maryanne Butler, who runs J&M Truck and Trailer in Plant City, shows up whether she needs anything or not. Butler, wearing slim dress jeans, a leather jacket and a red beret with a black cat on it, climbed down from the cab of a mammoth Kobelco track excavator (picture a life size Tonka Toy) she was checking out just for the fun of it.
"Oh, we're looking to buy a welder today," Butler said. "But really, I just love it. It's an addiction."
Although not addicted, Sumterville highway builder Troy Yarbrough admits he rarely walks off the auction lot without buying something.
"Last month I bought my stepdaughter a car, a '95 Chevy, for $400 that there's nothing wrong with," said Yarbrough, who came to the most recent auction for tractor implements. "And I also bought a '96 Ford extended cab truck, one owner, that the book value was $10,000 on. Paid $2,400.
"I've bought all kinds of stuff over the years. I've got a 24-foot '88 Cobia boat sitting in the front yard that I bought there. Paid $300 for that. If you do your homework and look around, you can't find better deals."
Just as long as it's a cash deal, and your neighbors don't mind you keeping a boat in your yard.
- Logan D. Mabe can be reached at 269-5304 or at mabe@sptimes.com
