In 2008, I went to an estate sale in Columbia, Tennessee, where 30 cars were advertised. As I approached the sale, I was greeted by a Rolls Royce that had been outside for a while. Next to it was an early ’50s Studebaker torpedo nose. I then spied a large hut that would typically be used for storing farm equipment. Inside, a crowd had gathered around a 1977 Pontiac Trans Am with only 2,800 miles. Across from it was a Plymouth Road Runner with the rare reflective side trim. A few feet away, however, things went downhill: a 1959 Corvette with 69,000 miles had spent time too much time outside and was still doing duty as a leaf composter. The top had long ago collapsed and filled with leaves. A DeLorean also rested nearby with a healthy scrim of mold growing on the inside.
I was ill prepared for the neglect I found when I walked out back. Here sat numerous cars in various states of decay. More once-upon-a-time “cherry” cars were now the pits. A one-owner 1956 Chevrolet Bel Air had been left to rot; as the fenders rusted, the rearview mirrors just fell off. Another Trans Am had been left with one window open so a dog could get in.
As I looked around, I would see a vehicle that appeared to be OK from a distance, but as I got closer, I saw that the windows had been left down, allowing the floorboards to rot along with the interior. A driver’s feet could go through the floor a la Fred Flintstone.
Resembling an automotive Jurassic Park, barn-finder Somer Hooker once attended a depressing estate sale where low mileage cars like this 2,800-mile, 1977 Pontiac Firebird, lay wasted. SOMER HOOKER
Some convertibles had fought the valiant fight; as their tops deteriorated, cheap green tarps had been thrown over them, only to wind up as rotted green threads. Other vehicles had become trash dumps for records and files. Anything with a nonferrous structure became a mold colony: Bricklins, Corvettes, and Avantis slowly started “greening,” if you may.
Further back, another shed exposed even more horrors; the cement block building had a collapsed roof. Tool boxes that sat open filled with water and rusted through. Insulation falling down provided a bit of “frosting” on the cake. There was a once pristine ’Cuda in there—under the hood, mice had filled the engine compartment with winter rations, and the vinyl bucket seats had deteriorated. Underneath was the skeleton of a rat. But even so, the family did not want to sell the car—some speculated that maybe it wasn’t “ripe” enough.
For years each autumn, people could see these cars from the highway. The owner was constantly besieged by passersby wanting to buy, but he always refused. Many speculated that he came across these vehicles from his longtime lucrative pawn business. Other cars, though, had been inherited from family members or bought on a whim. They all became a time study in decay.
The Corvette was sold for $65,000. The Roadrunner sold for $20,000, and the ’56 Bel Air for $4,000.The low-mileage Trans Am brought $28,000.
They were all pawns in the end.
Cars with windows left open and mold growing inside were commonplace. This once pristine ’Cuda had the skeleton of a rat underneath. SOMER HOOKER