Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Mrs. Cranky's Schwinn
Twenty-two years ago my wife got a brand new ten speed Schwinn for her birthday. Mrs. Cranky is not a bike rider, her husband was, and he obviously hoped she would join in his hobby. It didn’t happen. The bike went in the garage and was never ridden…never…ever.
Recently Mrs. C’s ex sold his house. He had no room to store the Schwinn and so Mrs. C brought it to our townhouse.
“What the hell do you want with that, you’ll never ride it?”
“Casey (step-crank) says old Schwinn’s are worth a lot.”
“If it was made in the USA, yes. That bike was made in Taiwan.”
“Still, it is ‘Brand New!’”
“We don’t have room in our garage; I'll trip over it every time I use my car!”
“I’m going to sell it!”
Mrs. Cranky put the bike for sale. She posted a flyer by our community mail pick-up. She was asking $65.
“Sixty-five dollars? You can buy a brand new bike at Target for $65.”
“Not a Schwinn.”
“A Schwinn that is 22 years old.”
The asking price stayed. I wanted to list it for $30 and sell it for $20, just to get rid of it. I hate selling stuff to strangers. I hate haggling over a price. I hate how the buyer picks on every little flaw and tries to drive down the price. I just hate the used item resell dance.
We got a call; someone was interested in the bike.
“They are coming over in an hour, could you straighten out the handle bars and blow up the tires.”
I went to the garage to clean up the bike and got a good look at it for the first time. The bike was 22 years old and did not have a scratch. It was a perfect ladies pink, gears and chain still lightly oiled. It was 22 years old and looked like it just came out of the box. I straightened out the handlebars, and filled the tires to 50 pounds pressure.
I had to give it to Mrs. C, the bike was pristine.
“I’ll tell you one thing, you are right about the price; I refuse to haggle. If they want to pay anything less than $60, I’ll pay it. I could use that bike to go to the mail box or WaWa’s.”
“I told you.”
The buyers came over to see the bike. The wife wanted to take up riding. They lived in our townhouse community. Mrs. Buyer took one look and stepped on it for a trial ride. I told her she looked good on the bike (she looked real good on the bike.)
Mrs. B rode down the driveway made a sharp turn and hollered to her husband,
“Pay the folks, I’m going home.”
She rode away with a huge grin on her face.
“That’s $65 right.”
We should have listed it for $75.