Trying to sell a Royal Enfield motorcycle? Well, when you write the ad, don't make the mistakes
this guy did.
You see, everybody else in America keeps their Royal Enfield Bullet carefully covered inside a nice garage. Not this guy. He parked his in the back yard, where it sat in the sun and rain. Birds built a nest in it; you can see the nest in the photo.
Still, he assures you that "it will clean up." Not that he plans to clean it up before he sells it to you.
You will have to buy it "as is, where is." He won't ship it.
"Local pick-up only!" he states, firmly.
Nevermind that he lives 20 miles off a back road and across a creek and has to go into town to get his mail because the Post Office won't deliver past the first arroyo.
Oh, and the selling price is firm, too (and about what you'd pay to get it brand new from the manufacturer, even including dealer prep).
Our guy isn't going to bargain. He knows what he has, or so he says (he misidentified the model of the bike in the ad), so don't try to low ball him.
If it comes to that, he says he has seen a Royal Enfield just like his offered on eBay by others at $1,000 more. That must have been in some Alternative Dimension.
As far as whether his bike is right for you, his ad warns you to "do your own homework" to determine that.
If you can't figure out how to start a Bullet you can't buy it anyway, he writes, so don't waste his time. It will only need a little tinkering and maybe some starting fluid (and a new battery and gas) to get it started. Maybe more. That's your worry.
Still not sure? "Look at the pictures," our man advises you. He means the picture in his ad, which is blurry, dark, and shows only half the motorcycle. The seller's thumb is mostly there, though.
Luckily he includes a second picture, in perfect focus, of a beautiful Royal Enfield. He found this photo of someone else's bike on the Internet, but his is "just like it" the ad says.
Still want to get in contact with him? Well, don't respond to his ad by email; he's sick and tired of scammers. "I'll erase all emails," he warns.
So he gives his phone number, in code, to throw off those Internet spies he has heard about. Something like "SIX-EERHT-2-DEUCE-sixty-FORE-NIN-ER."
But even if you can figure out the number, don't bother texting him. "NO TEXT," he shouts, in capital letters. And he's not done shouting.
"No trades. I don't want a rusty Jeep or your dog. This is not junk. I don't need your help to sell it. I don't have to sell. I WILL NOT ANSWER QUESTION IS IT STILL FOR SALE."
You don't want his bike anyway and you wouldn't buy it, even if you did, from the Unabomber.
My example seller is — mostly — fictional; but sellers like him are common. Reading their ads is like subjecting yourself to a verbal punching out.
Your only solace is that they probably never will sell the motorcycle.
Maybe that's why, in his most recent ad, this seller actually uses the word "please." What an improvement it makes.
