Thirty five years ago I tried to buy a second-hand Myford. It was advertised in Exchange and Mart as in good condition and running. I rang the man and arranged to go and see the lathe, borrowing Dad's car for the day – it had a big boot.
I drove 100 miles in the rain to Birmingham and got lost. No SatNavs back then. Eventually I found the contact address which turned out to be in a street of large terraced Victorian houses, once posh, now very run down. The door bell didn't work and I had to bang the door hard with my fist. Eventually the door was opened by a granny in a hair net and dirty pinny. Before I could say anything, she said 'round the back' and shut the door in my face.
'Round the back' I found that the houses had once had huge rear gardens now filled with a maze of tatty sheds housing various businesses. My destination turned out to be a seedy car-breaker cum scrapyard. No one about.
In one of the sheds I found a chap who I shall call 'Surly Bloke'. The man I'd made the appointment with was 'out', not expected back, and Surly Bloke knew nothing about Myfords. After a bit of prompting, he reluctantly showed me a heavily built lathe behind one of the sheds. Partly covered by a torn tarpaulin, it was very rusty, sat in a puddle, and had collected a fair quantity of bird poo. There was no motor, it was over six foot long, had no obvious maker's name, and there was obvious damage. It wasn't a Myford and no way would it fit in my car even if I'd wanted it. The only thing that matched the Exchange and Mart Advert was the asking price.
Driving home I had a puncture on the motorway. It was dark, raining hard and I had no torch. I changed the wheel by feel and got home late, dirty and exhausted. Wifey was annoyed because I'd gone missing, Dad was not pleased about his tyre and I was peeved.
I'm not sure there ever was a Myford. Possibly they had sold it to someone else and the whole Surly Bloke experience was intended to cover their embarrassment. In the end I didn't buy any kind of lathe until just before I retired.
This contrasts sharply with a friend of my Dad's. He went to an auction at a government Depot and paid £10 for a Boxford in as new condition, fully tooled except for one missing change wheel.
Ho hum. If life was fair Elvis would be alive and all the impersonators would be dead.
Anyone else had interesting experiences buying second-hand?
Dave