Scottsdale Auction Week: Goodnight Moon

Goodnight horse, prancing over the moon
It's over. Eight days of automotive insanity is a wrap. What did we learn?
Nobody is buying 288GTOs for what owners want. I think that is frigging terrific. They're cars, not preferred class A voting shares.  Drive them.

Porsche 918s seem like a great "investment" - MSRP was $845k. Used, they sold for about a million six. My inner hippie is kind of offended that there are rich bastards in the world that not only will pay that much for a (barely) used car, they will pay more than my house cost just for the privilege of buying it at an auction.

And that is where I am having pangs of conscience. As car shows, the auctions kick ass - there is nothing like it. My first BMW M1. My first (albeit race version) McLaren F1. My first Aston Martin V8. F40, F50, 288GTO.

As retail experience, bleh. It's not just the carnival of Barrett Jackson distracting you as it incrementally bleeds you dry. It's not the hushed museum of Gooding where you pay to view the unicorns, but god forbid you get a recognizable image of one of the other patrons. It's the purchase itself: the huckstering of cars that maybe aren't all that special. The cajoling when the price is somehow "too low." The cheering/golf claps of a new record price.

Exactly who are we cheering? The seller? The auction house for its fatter commission? The buyer?
is it because he paid more than anyone else over? Is it just "yay, rich dude! You can afford to spend too much! Your CPA is going to have an aneurysm!"?

Whatever it is, once the crowdthink enthusiasm wanes, what's left? What is there to care about? What is different than watching a garage sale, unless you're someone who bought something? Except for the part about it also being a car show, I don't know.