The next car we stopped at was an old Jaguar.
“This is a nineteen fifty-five D-type,” Coach said. “One of these sold at auction for more than twenty million a few years back.”
My brows shot up. “Twenty million? Are you shitting me?”
“That one won the Le Mans and had all her original parts. This one wouldn’t fetch a fraction of that. It has high mileage, an aftermarket paint job, and the underbelly is full of rust. John bought it a few months before his diagnosis. He’d planned to restore it and try to find as many original parts as possible. But that never happened.”
“Is that what makes old cars valuable? Having all the original parts?”
Coach nodded. “Partly.” He pointed to a red Corvette. “That ’Vette is all original, and so is the Ford Thunderbird in the back. John was offered a pretty penny at car swaps for both of those, but unlike new cars that lose ten grand in value the minute you drive them off the lot, these appreciate. They’re a good investment. Plus, he loved to drive them.”
I noticed the Chevelle didn’t have any plates on it, so I looked around at the others. I couldn’t see all the fronts and backs, but none of what I could see had them either. “Do you not need license plates to drive antique cars?”
Coach smiled. “You do. Though John just used one set of dealer plates for them all. All the cars are owned by a corporation that he had registered as a dealer, since he bought and sold often. It’s probably not exactly legal, but he didn’t go too far when he drove them.”
I grew more and more anxious as we went around from car to car. When we finally got to the Ford, I still had absolutely no idea what the hell I was looking for.
“This one was John’s favorite,” Coach said.
“Oh yeah?”
“Bought it when he signed his first contract as a player.”
“So he’d had it a long time then?”
He nodded. “Every few years, he got them appraised by an auction house for insurance purposes. They told him to drive this one less to keep the mileage down. But that never stopped him.”
“Did he…ever take this one to the stadium?”
“I’m not sure. He was always there before me and stayed long after I left.”
I walked around the back and took my time perusing the sides. When I got to the front, I noticed there was a slightly bigger gap on the left side of the hood than the right. It was barely noticeable, but it was there, and I knew that was a telltale sign a car had been in an accident.
“Do they sell for less when they’ve been in an accident?” I asked.
“Sure. Usually that’s because they have to get bodywork done. But this one is cherry. All original, no accidents, no bodywork.”
I bent down in front of the car, looking closely at the headlights. On the left, I noticed two tiny bubbles under the paint, yet on the right, the paintjob was totally smooth. I was far from an expert on cars, but it made me think the paint might’ve been touched up. Not wanting to raise suspicion, I moved on to check out the inside. Nothing jumped out at me as peculiar there. And honestly, I wasn’t even sure the small things I’d found were peculiar. The car was seventy years old, for Pete’s sake. Maybe it was normal for the hood to shift a little and the paint to have a few miniscule bubbles from natural weathering. What the hell did I know?
I stood and looked around. “You still thinking about donating the collection to charity?”
“They’re just collecting dust. I don’t need the money, and neither do any of John’s kids, who’ll get whatever I have left when I kick the bucket. So I suppose I might as well.”
I nodded. “You got one in mind?”
“I was always a big supporter of that Camp for Kids foundation that pays for camp in the summer for parents who can’t afford it. Got John to support it, too. He donated and always had his players visit the camps.”
I smiled. “We still do it. I went two years ago. It’s a great program.”
“I think the camp could use the money more than me. I spoke to my financial guy a while back about donating, and he suggested I get the cars appraised. John used to do that often, to increase the coverage on the insurance. But I didn’t bother, so they haven’t been appraised in a few years. Apparently, I might have some tax due if they’re worth more. I’ve been meaning to get that process started, but it’s not so easy getting around anymore. Simple things like getting down here to meet someone to do an appraisal means asking for help. Which isn’t my strong suit.”