YOUNG MAN ARE

Young man, are you here about my husband's old Subaru? Yes ma'am, I heard it's being sold today for $1,800. Is this where your husband left it years ago? Yes. They say it's worthless. Don't worry about what they're saying. Let me help you. This silver 1986 Subaru XT Turbo was hours away from being sold for $1,800. When I arrived at 80-year-old Margaret's rural home in Washington, she stood beside the moss-covered Subaru with an unsigned bill of sale. While a local buyer prepared to trailer it, he told her the engine was dead, the tires were useless. And after more than a decade outside, the car wasn't worth saving. Margaret needed money to replace her failing furnace before winter. So she had almost accepted. But the Subaru her late husband, Richard, bought the XT Turbo in 1986, when its wedge-shaped body, futuristic interior, and pop-up headlights made it look unlike anything else on the road. Margaret remembered Richard bringing it home, and raising the headlights over and over, just to make their children laugh. The XT became their weekend car, carrying the family through mountain roads, camping trips, and long Sunday drives. More than a decade ago, mechanical problems forced Richard to park it beneath several huge spruce trees at the edge of their property. He promised Margaret he'd repair it the following summer, but health problems kept delaying the work. After Richard died, she couldn't bring herself to move the Subaru. It stayed exactly where he had left it. Pine needles buried the windshield, branches and pine cones piled around the body. Old tires and construction materials surrounded it, and weeds eventually grew through the rear hatch. Rain tree sap, moss, and hardened dirt almost completely hid the silver paint. When I reached the XT, it looked terrible, but underneath, the body had survived with far less serious rust than I expected. The unusual panels were still intact, the glass was there, and the car remained surprisingly complete. All four tires were completely flat and wouldn't hold air. And Richard's keys had been locked inside the car years earlier. Once we finally gained access, we found an interior covered in dust, dirt, and cobwebs. I connected a battery, but the engine wouldn't start. Then I tried the headlight switch. Slowly, both pop-up headlights rose from the hood. Margaret covered her mouth and smiled. She hadn't seen them move since Richard was alive. I asked if she'd signed the bill of sale. She shook her head. I told her not to take $1,800 until we knew what Richard had actually left behind. I couldn't promise the engine would run, but I offered to move the Subaru to my shop to clean away more than a decade of neglect and reveal its real condition. Margaret agreed. We fitted temporary wheels because the original tires couldn't hold air. Pulled the XT free from beneath the spruce trees and loaded it onto a trailer. Returned at the shop, years of pine needles, branches, moss, hardened dirt, and tree sap began washing away. Slowly, the silver paint and sharp, wedge-shaped body returned. Inside, we removed years of dust and cobwebs from the seats, carpets, dashboard, and storage compartments in the glove box. We discovered the original owner's manual, old service receipts, and a faded photograph of Richard standing beside the Subaru with Margaret and their children. Behind it was a folded piece of paper Margaret had never seen. It contained Richard's handwritten list of repairs for the XT, followed by one final line: "When she's running again, Margaret gets the first drive." She read it twice without saying a word. The Subaru was far from restored. It still needed new tires, the fuel and mechanical systems required serious work, and the turbocharged engine still wouldn't start. But for the first time in a decade, Margaret could see the car Richard remembered instead of something disappearing beneath the trees. When she returned to the shop, she stopped several feet from the cleaned XT. I raised the pop-up headlights, and she smiled exactly as she had when Richard first brought it home in 1986. Then our appraiser walked in, carrying information about the Subaru. What he had discovered made that $1,800 offer look far worse than we imagined. What do you think Richard's forgotten 1986 Subaru XT Turbo was really worth? Comment Subaru and find out if its turbo engine could run again after a decade beneath the trees.