Do Psychopaths Shop on Craigslist? (Be Very Fucking Careful!)

I'd been selling on eBay for a while before I decided to try selling larger items locally on Craigslist, which is a different experience altogether, but not a bad one. Potential buyers call or text and together you set up a time and place to meet in person. You're obviously taking a chance that the individual on the other end of the call might be a psychopath, or worse, the next Phillip Markoff, aka the "Craigslist Killer". But you got to be willing to take that chance if you want to sell an old bicycle or a camera. To me, the benefits outweighed the risks, but I'm always prepared just in case...

Psychopaths like Phillip Markoff appear very normal to the average person…

Once I got started I met some pretty nice people, ones who shared my interest in bicycles, motorcycles, and baseball. Ten years ago I met a guy in Canton at Cobb’s Corner and sold him a Daisuke Matsuzaka M18 Signature Model Glove I purchased directly from Japan when they first became available in the United States. We talked baseball for an hour and a half while we stood in the parking lot in front of Papa Ginos. He was the player/coach of a baseball team and Doug Flutie, one of my favorite athletes, was on his roster. Even though I was well into my 50s at the time, he wanted me to play for him, but the practice field was in the  Dorchester section of Boston, next to the massive, 140-foot tall gas storage tanks on Route 93, 50 minutes away with light traffic. There's rarely light traffic there.

The field was just beyond the tanks, which are a "can't miss" if you're heading into Boston from the South Shore.

One of the tanks was also one of Boston’s most controversial works of art. It was originally painted in 1971 by Sister Mary Corita Kent, a peace-loving Nun.  If you looked long and hard enough, part of the rainbow swashes looked a lot like Ho Chi Mihn and that became very controversial at the time, but the tank has since become a distinguishable landmark on the road to Boston.

I declined the offer to play baseball, but I was glad I sold the Daisuke glove to a baseball aficionado and not some kid who was gonna write his name across the pinkie using a black Sharpie.

Daisuke Matsuzaka's glove was highly-coveted and I surprised Dylan with it…

A good-looking woman in her mid-thirties from Littleton, MA drove down route 495 for a luggage rack and a brake rod cover for her Harley-Davidson Sportster. After talking a bit she revealed that she was also an avid bicyclist. We had a great conversation about motorcycles and bicycles. 

A man and his wife drove up from Norwich, Connecticut, my old hometown, and bought my dual suspension KHS mountain bike. Then there was the 6’2” 34-year-old man originally from Germany, who with a thick German accent, told me how his mother sold his BMX bike on him when he was just a kid. He came to Norton and with a wide smile, bought my son’s Hoffman BMX bike. He looked pretty awkward test riding it, but he was extremely happy and that’s all that mattered. 

This is the closest I could get to an actual pic of my Nikon 4004s…

A 75-year-old soft-spoken gentleman from Whitman secured a ride to Norton and bought my Nikon 4004s film camera. He said he had had one for years, but recently left it on a plane after a lengthy flight. He was happier buying it than I was selling it. I hadn't used it in years. To him, it was the return of a lost treasure.

The most interesting Craigslist transaction involved an abandoned bicycle. I had driven by a wooded lot right around the corner from my house and saw an abandoned road bicycle laying in the brush. Aside from being a lugged steel frame, fantastic blue in color with a white seat tube, it had a flat rear tire, shredded handlebar wrap, collapsed seat post, ripped seat, and a crooked handlebar. I slowed down to get a better look. I knew my wife wouldn’t appreciate me bringing home another stray, so I gave it one last consideration, decided against it, and then continued on my way. After doing an errand, on the way home I drove past it again. I stopped, looked, and drove away, again. Then, I slammed on the brakes, backed up the minivan, and loaded it up and took her home! Being a bicycle fanatic, I couldn’t help myself…

The bike spent a couple of days in my basement before I looked it over to see what it needed and it needed way too much. Taking it home had been a bad idea. I decided I'd put it back where I found it the next morning.

In the morning, I loaded it up and drove to the wooded lot where I found it, but I couldn’t do it. I was fearful that some kids would get it and play “crash”, so I left it in the minivan and did a few errands. On my way back I stopped at the spot and considered leaving it there, but I couldn’t. I took it home again, but this time I was determined to fix it up.

After I worked on it, it was a good-looking, great-riding bicycle!

First, I removed the rear wheel and then I installed a new tube. Next, I removed the rusted axle nuts and put on some new shiny ones. I adjusted the front and rear brakes. I removed the ripped seat and installed a new one I had hanging around, cleaning and adjusting the seat post. I took off the old shredded bar tape, cleaned the bar, and wrapped it with some really nice black Mavic padded bar tape. I removed the damaged water bottle holder and pump bracket and installed a new black bottle cage. I adjusted the stem and stem shifters and then I cleaned the entire bike, chain and drive-train included. I lubed everything. When I was done the bike was mechanically sound and gorgeous! I took it for a short spin around the block and I liked the vintage ride. I took some pictures of the updated bike and listed it on Craigslist for $200.

I got several calls and one local caller wanted to come right over. She asked some unusual questions and said that she was very interested in the bike…

I brought the bike outside and leaned it up against the minivan. It looked great, like a new bike. When the girl arrived she and two male friends got out of her Jeep and walked over to the bike. She was in her early 20s, 5’4” tall, with an athletic build, and wearing a red bandanna partially covering her short light brown hair. After a brief introduction, the girl walked strategically in front of the bicycle, staring at it from different angles. I suggested she take it for a ride but she declined. Then she asked me how long I owned it. I said, "a short time". Then she asked where I got it. I said, "locally". Then she was a little more direct, "it looks just like my bike that was stolen off my front lawn a few days ago…".

She had the cops on speed dial…

I immediately came clean. I admitted to rescuing the bike from certain disaster and then fixing it. I assured her I would not steal a bicycle, that I had been a competitive cyclist and I owned several high-end bikes. I told her how and where I found it, what condition it was in at the time, and what I had to do to make it roadworthy. Now, wearing an angry expression and a resolute disposition, she insisted it was her bike and told me she had the local police on speed dial… I said, “I believe you, take it!”. She asked where her seat was and told her it was ripped almost in half so I replaced it with a new one. She said I could take all my parts off if I wanted, but I took the high road and told her to take the bike as it was, "cleaned, tuned and ready to ride". 

As she loaded it onto her bike rack I explained to her that had I not picked it up off the side of the road she would've never seen it again. That, not only was I not the thief, I had rescued her bicycle and repaired it at no cost. She thanked me rather unceremoniously, and then she and her two male friends drove off…

That has become my most celebrated Craigslist story and my least profitable transaction.

All things considered, I’ve had a lot of success selling some of my worldly possessions on Craigslist and I haven't had to fend off any murderous psychopaths in the process. But, research has shown there have been more than 100 murders connected to Craigslist's postings… 

Answering a Craigslist ad and coming to my house with bad intentions would be a big mistake… In the words of Harry Callahan, "You've got to ask yourself a question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya punk?".