So I got a late night call from Roger down at his Scrap and Salvage Yard. Turns out he got his hands on a fairly new Comet and was I interested in viewing it. Naturally, being at a scrapyard I asked him what was wrong with it, or was it stolen? His reply: "Some cosmetic damage, lady owner had a bit of a prang and instead of paying out to repair the car, her husband just bought her a brand new something else."
Ok, so what the hell might as well go and have a look. Perhaps a little bit of fixing and some slight modification could see a little profit come out of this deal.
Boy was I wrong...
Took a relaxing drive in my brand new Nero in the snow to the yard and what greeted me was the most god awful yellow Comet you had ever seen. From one side as you approached you would be forgiven for thinking that the damage was just a prang at the front, but shine some light on the situation and you have a front end that looks like it was rammed between a narrow alleyway, missing rubber from three of the rims, numerous dents, dings, scratches, missing glass, missing drivers door, a steering wheel that was wrapped around the column and well, you can imagine was else.
Surprisingly the rear wing and lid had survived, but the car was a mess and turning to Roger, my first thought was to throttle him with the pipe wrench that was in my car. He knew it too, and his face became ashen with worry. He knew the line of work I was into, and had recently seen the news reports of several heists that had taken place in the city with a green haired, facepainted guy that the feds were calling a Criminal Mastermind, along with his accomplices. Not even the novelty Christmas sweater that I had thrown on on my way out could ease Roger's mood.
"Cosmetic damage huh Rog?"
"Erm, well you know. The car was delivered in the dark and from the office window it didn't seem all that bad."
"Bright office, dark exterior. Yeah I bet all you saw was a god damn silhouette and that was it!"
Roger went quiet, and I stood thinking about my next action. Walk outta there, or try and practiaclly steal the car in the hope that something could be salvaged. Luckily for me, I had helped Roger out numerous times in the past with gangs and it was about time that he paid for all those favours.
"Car's mine Roger. Call it payment for services to your business and making sure that you still have a business to run."
He didn't quarel. He knew that he probably wouldn't get anything out of the car but it's value in scrap so it wasn't such a big loss. I sent out a text to another friend with a flatbed with instructions to take the car to my office garage in the morning where work would start.
Cue the passage of several weeks.
Damage was only skin deep, with the main structural components of the car being sound. Just after picking the car up, I had heard about retro kits that people were now adding to their car and after seeing some pictures I opted that was the route that would probably get the most dollar on my investment. Hell, the car was free so with the cost of some exterior, interior and performance mods, I was expecting a tidy profit. Days and days I worked on that car with a little help from some pals and a guy from Japan who insisted that he fit the retro kit. As you work on a car you get to know it, and get to feel like you can't part with it. So it was with me. When all was said and done, the Comet had a new place to call home in my garage next to my modern version. The day after finishing the car, and christening her with the name '
Purple Rain', I took her back to Roger's to show him what his wreck had become. Suffice to say, the offers he immiediately started throwing out was justification enough that he loved the car, but there was no way I was letting this one go.