Hot For Man-On-Man Auction Action

It was better than Disneyland, and a hell of a lot cheaper, too.

There was nothing more fun for a car-crazy teenager like me, than to go to the auto parts swap meets held around southern California. The big one at the Rose Bowl, the Roadster Show swap meet, Long Beach; but most of all, the nearly monthly pilgrimage to the LA Fairgrounds. I watched that swap meet grow and grow, until the rows of parts stretched for fifteen miles.

Rain or shine, blazing heat or freezing cold, my friends and I would dutifully march up and down the aisles. Woe to the one who found something heavy and irresistible at the farthest corner of the parking lot, miles and miles from the car. In those pre-cell phone days, you might never hook up with your buddies again until it was time to go.

The swap meets, most of them anyway, still carry on, but just as it has with so many other categories of used and collectible merchandise, the so-called "Ebay effect" has hit the antique auto parts market heavily.

Anybody with an Internet connection can track the market value and availability of, say, a virgin, new-in-the-box Porsche 356A tail lamp, or the trashiest '65 Mustang instrument cluster. No investment of half one's weekend, trolling through thousands of parts you didn't need, couldn't afford, or both, is required.

For someone who's had a lifetime affinity for other people's junk, the rise of Ebay is like giving a junkie the keys to Walgreen's. I may never come out into the daylight again. Maybe that's why they call the Internet the "Web," because I'm trapped.

Just because I have no place to put them, no time or money to repair one should I bid and win, I find myself tracking the action on rusted-out Model A Fords and finely restored Aston Martins. I search out obscure makes and models, delighting in my discoveries. I lust after the shattered remains of rare, deceased racing engines, and the of the every-day, obsolescent Chevy.

It's taken much of the fun out of swap meets for me; one must hunt through the rows, hoping beyond hope, that The Part You Want is waiting in the back of some computer-illiterate's trailer, but even then, I'll get the comment that "I heared they's worth a bundle on that there Internets" and you know your day is through; dreams dashed.

Right now, I'm tracking a gas tank on Ebay for a 1963 Corvette. I don't own a Corvette, never mind one that needs a gas tank. This is, as it turns out, the holy grail of Corvette gas tanks. Supposedly, only 63 were produced. How anyone is certain of this is beyond me. You could easily lie to people, and say, "Why yes, I have THE gas tank," and they'd have to take you at your word, as you can't see it from outside, nor inside, the car. It's buried within the Corvette's superstructure. I mean, it's a bloody gas tank, not the Hope diamond.

And how much is this stamped metal, galvanized, oddly-shaped box that no one can see?

It's currently at SEVEN THOUSAND, FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS.

Reserve not met.

Do you see? Can you believe it? It's high drama, courtesy of Ebay. We never had that at the swap meet.

(Update, Dec. 29 - THE gas tank auction ended at $11,101 -- reserve not met!)