Smoky Yunick story . . . (NAC, but funny and true - I was there!)

[Mike Arman]

Coupla years ago, Smoky Yunick decided to sell off some of the "stuff" he
had accumulated in umpteen years of operating his hot-rod shop and garage
on Beach Street, here in Daytona.

There were probably several hundred Ford/GM/Chrysler engines, blocks,
cranks, tools, parts, on and on, and a great big windmill which used to be
mounted on a tower atop the roof of the place, which boasted a sign "Smoky
Yunick's: Best Damn Garage in Town!"

The windmill was from some *really bad* land deal in the Honduras he had
gotten involved in, and was a test prototype for a power generating system,
considering the nearest power lines were many, many miles away through
impenetrable, malarial swamps (which was why the land, a HUGE tract, was so
CHEAP.)

There was also a Bell Ranger helicopter, which Smoky used to use to fly
from his home further up the river (a few miles) to his garage, just on the
north edge of Daytona. (Also on the river - he would commute by 10 minute
helicopter flight. - Tough life.)

The auction was well advertised in the hot-rod media, and on auction day,
the parking lot (and the parking lot across the street, a Publix food
store) was absolutely full of Chevvy and Ford pickup trucks driven in from
most of the southeast USA by good ole boys looking for a deal on a motor.
Or two, or ten.

And they got them. I saw engine afer engine ("Lot 224, 454 Chevvy,
complete, running, estimated 600 Hp, sold for $50!") go out the door and
into truck beds in a steady parade, with no single bid much over a hundred
bucks. You can't buy boat anchors for that, guys!

Finally, they got to the helicopter. The bidders, who were mostly the
torn-tee-shirt-and-jeans crowd, had been joking about the chopper -
"Shucks, that looks like fun!" and "Can't be too expensive, it ain't much
bigger'n a Buick." etc.

"Starting bid - do I hear one hunderd an' seventy five thousand dollahs? .
. . "



Instant



Total



F**king



Silence.




(Except the sound of 250 sphincters tightening in perfect synchonization)

Then from the back of the garage: "Burp!"

Urgent whisper: "Shut up, Billy! You ain't got no $175,000!"

It is the price of their toys that separate the men from the boys . . .

Best Regards,

Mike Arman