Craigslist in Alaska is a strange, spooky thing

In Alaska, we pass on the right. We create our own right hand turn lanes where there are none at stop signs and traffic lights. We refer to the Lower 48 as … the Lower 48. All these traits are unique to our Alaskan culture, but I’d like to add another one; we are so strange when it comes to Craigslist. Using Craigslist to buy something, especially a car, apparently comes with its own etiquette and unspoken rules that I have only experienced up here.

During my years living down south, I had the opportunity to use Craigslist a time or two. Usually when buying a used car. I would find one or more that I liked and call the number listed. The conversation would be the usual — what issues, if any, does the car have? Why are you selling it? How many miles? If I was still interested, a time would be arranged and off I’d go.

Pretty normal stuff, but not here. No, no. In Alaska, it’s a much different game. Now, when I’m looking for something (again, we’ll say a car) I have learned to look up and print off at least three-times as many vehicles as I actually plan on looking at, then sit down to start making the calls. I know that I have to print off so many because I will be dealing with the following:

“The myth”

This guy doesn’t really exist. He’s simply not there. Oh sure, he’s got a car listed on Craigslist, but you will never, ever actually talk to him. Call as many times as you want, he won’t answer. Leave messages all you like, he won’t return them. Oddly, you’ll see his car posted and re-posted with an almost religious devotion every few days. You’ll get the impression that he really, really wants to sell that car … if only he was actually there. Even better when you call and the number has been disconnected. Huh?

“I kinda want

to sell my car”

At least this guy answers the phone. Only problem? He just doesn’t seem very motivated to actually sell it. Requests to come look at it are met with, “Uh, yeah, but can you call me back later? I’m in the middle of ‘Dancing With the Stars’ right now.” Oh, sure, no problem buddy. No worries, I’ll be sure to call you back later. I promise! (Toss that one in the garbage can.)

“I plan ahead”

So you want to sell your car, but you can’t give it up until the end of the month? So what’s your plan? Somebody is going to give you money for it now while you continue to drive it around for the next few weeks and hope you don’t wreck it, break it or simply skip the state with their money? Weird.

“Details, details”

Nice picture on the ad. Car looks pretty sharp. And when I called and asked point-blank, “What kind of issues does the car have?” you responded with something along the lines of “nothing major … usual scuffs and dings.” OK, that’s cool. A 5- to 8-year-old car with around 100,000 miles on it is bound to have some issues. That’s why I asked. Lord knows if I wanted perfection I wouldn’t be looking at an older, used rig. So when I get there and see that one side, the side not shown in the picture, looks like somebody ran into it with a Caterpillar D8, I’m a bit surprised. Then I’m disappointed that I drove all the way up to Talkeetna to look at it. And, oh yeah, you forget to mention that you haven’t had tabs on it in five years (yet freely admit that you’ve been driving it anyway) and the tires are as bald as a newborn’s backside.

“Appreciate

the honesty”

This guy actually answered the phone, scheduled a time to go look at it and, hey, whattya know, the car doesn’t look half-bad! So, what’s the problem? Well, you might have had a sale if you hadn’t kept mentioning that the car will do 160 mph because you’ve frequently had it up to that speed. OK, first of all, thank you for the honesty. Appreciate that. I really do (because there’s no way in heck I’m going to buy the car now). But also, no, your old Saturn will not do 160 mph. And what an odd selling point anyway. Did I give you the impression I was looking for the ideal getaway car? Time to move along to the next car.

“Jump through

the hoops”

These are the easy ones to skip. They put an ad on the site, but don’t want to give you their phone number. Instead, they want you to send an email to which they will then reply to your phone number via text. You are then to text them and ... ah, forget it. Never mind. Next car.

And so my son and I spent the entire weekend roaming the Valley and Anchorage looking at used cars. We had a stack of at least two dozen cars we had printed off Craigslist. After making phone calls, that stack was cut in half due to those who had no contact information or wouldn’t answer the phone. Then take that stack and whittle out another half to the oddballs described above who want to schedule it after they’re done taking a nap or whatever. Finally get down to three cars, one of which was smashed and it had never occurred to the seller to mention it.

Starting to get a little nervous now, we looked at one of the two cars remaining. Nice car. Good shape, seemed to drive OK. But when we told the guy we had one other car to look at and we had his number, hooo boy did he get irate. Apparently, we were somehow obligated to buy the car having looked at it. In fact, our intelligence was called into question for not seeing the obvious “deal” we were getting and slapping down cash right there and then. How dare we waste his time looking at it if we weren’t planning on buying it before we even came! I take it back; we won’t be calling you back. Ever. You’re scary.

So it was by default that we drove home a 1996 Suzuki Sidekick, the last car on the list. Nice car, excellent shape, honest seller and so far, so good. Not the kind of car I would typically buy (I prefer American) but, well, you see why we ended up with it. Alaska Craigslist is a strange and spooky thing.

Ben Compton is a Palmer resident and publishes his column as “Compton’s Corner,” the same title used by his grandmother, Phyllis Compton, a longtime Frontiersman columnist.