Some families inherit jewelry. Apparently we inherit classic cars.
Where the Packard story started: In February, Jo described Pete’s cars while trying to figure out how to sell them fairly. At that point she identified the restored car as a 1953 Packard Clipper and the project car as a 1955 Packard Patrician. The plan was to use proceeds from the estate for college funds for the nieces’ teenage kids. By March, after the data plate was found, the project car was identified more precisely as a 1951 Patrician.
As we worked through Pete’s estate, two Packards became their own entire subplot: a 1953 Clipper that had been restored and driven around Reno, and a 1951 Patrician project car that had been sitting in the garage long enough to develop its own archaeological layers.
The Clipper was the pretty one. The Patrician was the “how exactly are we going to move this thing?” one — flat rear tires, title issues and all.
We looked at dealers, consignment, auctions and the possibility of spending a pile of money just to get the cars moved, tuned and ready to sell. There were interested buyers who disappeared, buyers who needed permission from their wives, and the usual parade of people who were very excited right up until it was time to actually buy a car.
Then Cora stepped in.
She cleaned up the Clipper, met with a serious buyer and worked out a package deal for both cars. The buyer had a mechanic friend who loved restoring classic cars, and the two Packards finally sold together for $10,000.
Cora promptly declared that she should henceforth be addressed as “Cora, Queen of Car Sales.” Fair enough.
There were still titles, bills, auctions and estate paperwork left to finish, but at least two classic Packards were no longer sitting on our collective chest.
One more piece of the family estate puzzle finally driven away.
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