One million cars sold. Three hundred auctions a year. One hundred fifty cars an hour for three to five hours. Every. Single. Day.
All of these numbers add up to my career as an auto auctioneer. I started out as a 26-year-old, with nothing more than piss and vinegar, as we say in the auction bid'ness. Now? I'm 43, hopelessly mellowed out, and they call me "The Professor."
If your car is ever leased, traded in, totaled, or repossessed, chances are high it will be sent to a dealer-only auction at least once. I work in a free market where every single car is bought and sold in less than 20 seconds. The public is not invited for three simple reasons: money, time, and profit.
Car auctions are a weird and fantastic world, and in my two decades in that scene, I've seen some pretty astonishing things. The old adage that "your decisions in life dictate your future" really rings true at an auction. This business is all about split-second decisions; that can mean buying anything from a two-year-old Ferrari to a 20-year-old Buick. Whether you've just sprung for junk or pure gold, you're stuck with it. When I tell folks, "You just bought that car and whatever just fell off it," they laugh -- unless they're hearing me say it for the 200th time.
So how'd I get into this racket? I owe my entire livelihood to the wisdom of one man. You might have heard of him.