This syndrome refers to the Big Auction Competitive Frenzy that has caused prices of collector and special interest cars to launch into the stratosphere. In this climate, well healed collectors and celebrities and people that want to be near celebrities get caught up in bidding wars for vehicles that are currently de rigueur. This is fantastic fun for wealthy bidders and great for the auction house because it is highly profitable (both the buyer and seller typically pay fees as a percentage of the selling price.
In the less frenetic and common place world of collector car sales, there always remains a certain degree of emotion, but the volume knob is turned down slightly. The biggest problem that I have run across is perception of values by owners who quickly equate their vehicle to the one that crossed the auction block at the glitzy televised auction.
I was commissioned to appraise a 1968 Plymouth GTX about two years ago when I first experienced the BJ Syndrome. The owner's husband had passed, and she was looking to sell the car. She gave me very little information over the phone, and I assumed she had little knowledge of the specifics of the car, so I just set up the appointment and planned on sorting out what I could during the physical appraisal process.
The car was in a large metal storage barn along with a 1970 big block Corvette - also to be appraised. It was burgandy - and had the vinyl top trim - but no vinyl top. I was surprised to find that it was a Hemi car - Torqueflite automatic. The car started, but obviously had not be driven to any degree for many years. It has some cheap aftermarket slotted mags and four different tires. The paint was not original, in fact it had been applied so quickly (obviously many years earlier) that it had some amount of solvent popping (looks like small pock marks) over 60-70% of the surface. Everything on the car was fair to good, but would need attention in almost every area. The Hemi had rusted valve covers and rustier aftermarket headers. The engine compartment was covered in oil, grease, rust, and dirt.
I ultimately appraised the car at $50,000 as it sat, knowing that it would take much more than that to professionally restore the car. That number went over like a lead balloon with my client. She told me that she would drive the car over a cliff before she would consider selling it for $50,000. Then it came - "My husband and I watched the auction on TV and the same car sold for over $100,000 (remember, this was two years ago), you don't know what you're talking about!"
Of course at that point I had to explain the subtle and not so subtle differences between this neglected car in a barn, and the polished jewel that ran across the auction block on the little screen. She was not impressed.
To be continued...