A well-known vintage audio dealer was selling tradeins on Ebay. I had purchased used equipment from them before and they were about two hours away, so anything I bought I could pick up personally rather than risk having it shipped. When I first bought equipment from them, the store’s owner took me to the back room and showed the unit on the test bench, which led me to assume that they do their own repair in house. So, after perusing their Ebay listings, I bought a Sansui AU-717 that had been owned by one of their regular cuctomers, who was its first owner.
I called the vintage audio dealer and reached the guy who handled their Ebay sales. I paid a modest amount to have the tech--who I later learned was an outside contractor--look it over and replace anything that needed it. That was my first mistake: not being clear about what I wanted done. Did I want a full restoration, or just "fix what’s broken" when, according to the listing, everything supposedly worked fine?
I was shown the Sansui powered up. Second mistake: I didn’t take the time to ask them to pop the hood and let me look inside. I took it home and installed it in the system (in retrospect, another mistake). On the third day it went into protection and stayed there.
At that point I should have taken it back to the seller. But, reluctant to make the drive and thinking that I needed to find a reliable repair shop closer to home, I took the crippled Sansui to a vintage audio dealer about half an hour away. That was my third mistake. Even he questioned why I didn’t take it back. When he showed me the unit powered up and working a few days later, he talked as if he did the work himself. Again, the charges were quite reasonable.
The Sansui failed again about a day later. I had intended all along to have it completely restored if I liked how it sounded. Trolling Ebay, I found a Sansui restorer there whose listing was persuasive. Now, before the ritual denunciations of Ebay start, I’ll state that I have bought and sold audio equipment on Ebay for close to a decade and, with few exceptions, had positive experiences. I emailed the restorer and asked whether he would be interested in repairing and restoring my Sansui AU-717. I would have to ship it most of the way across the country.Before he replied, however, I found that he had for sale a completely restored AU-717. I pulled the trigger on it. That purchase was a righteous one. The unit is still in my system and performs wonderfully.
He expressed interest in the crippled AU-717. We agreed on a price and I sent it to him. I enclosed copies of all the paperwork and emails describing the unit’s condition and the various repairs paid for. After he received it, he emailed me to advise that none of the work that I had paid for was done. Items that supposedly were replaced were not replaced. I had been scammed--twice. Inside, the unit was very rusty, almost as if it had been in a flood. It was so bad that he complained that he could not use it as the basis of a rebuild project, and we agreed on an adjusted price.
When I totaled up all my costs for this little adventure, I had wasted about $600. By going to the local shop for the repair, I had undermined whatever position I had to take the first AU-717 back to the seller.
So I must confess that I am a fool sometimes. Those who cheated me have more to confess than that.
I called the vintage audio dealer and reached the guy who handled their Ebay sales. I paid a modest amount to have the tech--who I later learned was an outside contractor--look it over and replace anything that needed it. That was my first mistake: not being clear about what I wanted done. Did I want a full restoration, or just "fix what’s broken" when, according to the listing, everything supposedly worked fine?
I was shown the Sansui powered up. Second mistake: I didn’t take the time to ask them to pop the hood and let me look inside. I took it home and installed it in the system (in retrospect, another mistake). On the third day it went into protection and stayed there.
At that point I should have taken it back to the seller. But, reluctant to make the drive and thinking that I needed to find a reliable repair shop closer to home, I took the crippled Sansui to a vintage audio dealer about half an hour away. That was my third mistake. Even he questioned why I didn’t take it back. When he showed me the unit powered up and working a few days later, he talked as if he did the work himself. Again, the charges were quite reasonable.
The Sansui failed again about a day later. I had intended all along to have it completely restored if I liked how it sounded. Trolling Ebay, I found a Sansui restorer there whose listing was persuasive. Now, before the ritual denunciations of Ebay start, I’ll state that I have bought and sold audio equipment on Ebay for close to a decade and, with few exceptions, had positive experiences. I emailed the restorer and asked whether he would be interested in repairing and restoring my Sansui AU-717. I would have to ship it most of the way across the country.Before he replied, however, I found that he had for sale a completely restored AU-717. I pulled the trigger on it. That purchase was a righteous one. The unit is still in my system and performs wonderfully.
He expressed interest in the crippled AU-717. We agreed on a price and I sent it to him. I enclosed copies of all the paperwork and emails describing the unit’s condition and the various repairs paid for. After he received it, he emailed me to advise that none of the work that I had paid for was done. Items that supposedly were replaced were not replaced. I had been scammed--twice. Inside, the unit was very rusty, almost as if it had been in a flood. It was so bad that he complained that he could not use it as the basis of a rebuild project, and we agreed on an adjusted price.
When I totaled up all my costs for this little adventure, I had wasted about $600. By going to the local shop for the repair, I had undermined whatever position I had to take the first AU-717 back to the seller.
So I must confess that I am a fool sometimes. Those who cheated me have more to confess than that.