Calculating

I had my first encounter with a purposely misleading piece last Saturday. No, that ring I picked up a few weeks back doesn't count - I haven't had it tested yet, so I don't know for sure. This tale is actually one of deliberate fabrication ... and an honest man.

I've lived in my house since 1993, and in all that time, though I'd seen a nearby civic association advertise periodic sales, I never went to one - it was only 13 miles away, but around here, 13 miles might as well be 13 million. I went to my first on Saturday. At 7 am it was already Hell soup, so, after finding a parking place (not easy!) on the street, I walked into the roped-off lot where they had it, saw 15 vendors or so, and figured I'd give it a quick circuit before trucking off to find whatever was really clogging up the streets with parked cars.

In the first booth, a woman was selling many household things, even a few nice prints, but only costume and silver jewelry. The second had sculptural pieces and some good men's stuff - not good enough for the Big Lug, though. But the third ... ah, the third had watches. Vintage watches. Mostly men's, but several women's, and lots of pieces (watches with no bands, bezel with just crystal, bands with no watches), all ten kinds of beat up, but with potential. Among them, tangled with my treasures, were chains, old earrings, even cuff links. Looked like someone had bought a box lot at an auction and was selling it "as found." I gathered several promising snippets, sorting and organizing as I went - a stud without a mate (wait, found!), a chain to hang on the lid (glance, 1/20 GF), a stray stem and crown, another chain (glance, 18K), half of a -

Hold the phone. 18K? 18 freaking karat? Yep - a filthy, s-link, nasty piece of work with a tag that said, "18K, Italy."

My hand shook. It was heavy. I glanced at the pair running the show - one was young and ingenuous, one old and busy with a loupe in the open door of their van, which was, as yet, not completely unpacked. So I indicated my pile (mostly women's pieces, one watch with no band for the Lug, and the chain sitting above it) and asked the younger, "how much for all?" and he said "twenty bucks." I pointed. "Including the chain?" His smooth brow puckered, and he held the item up for (I guess) Dad's okay. "That's base metal," he said without hesitation. I started to correct him, but he'd already gone back to his study, shutting me out, and the younger threw it in with the women's stuff. "The man's watch is an extra ten," he said apologetically.

I looked everything over, my brain churning. $20 for the watch bits (the better to mad scientist with) was fair, but the Gruen was a bit steep. Yet if the chain were gold, it would pay for the lot ... but not assuage my guilt ... unless I pulled out my blue plastic thingie and could tell them they were giving it away ...

What the heck. I left my loupe in my pants, said "yes" to the bits, and "yes" to the Lug's watch, too.

When I turned to go to the next booth, I was so astonished by the sudden, panoramic view of the rest of the vendors - I was on the top floor of parking garage with three more levels, and 50 or so per level - that my avarice and greed took a temporary hike. After all, I'd figure it out later; the Elysian Fields was just steps away!

I wandered, talked to vendors, even bought a few more things - another watch (which doesn't work, either, but it's fabulous), a pool cue, and an ashtray stand for the Lug. And I purposefully didn't look at the chain. But my math mind was beeping away independent of any potential morality play ...

The price of gold is $954.48 per ounce. (Troy ounces, of course, and jewelry is rarely a full ounce, so I think in grams.) 31.1 grams in a Troy ounce ... is that Panelled Grape? ... round it, divide it, call it 30 bucks a gram. (Okay, I looked up the price when I got home - lately it's always just 30 bucks a gram to me.) So if it's 18K that's 18/24 of pure gold which is ... common factor of 6 ... 3/4 ... and it's heavy, heavier than my bracelet, call it 12 grams ... wow, look at that woman's hat! ... no, 10 conservatively ... so if I sell it through my direct link to the foundry, I'd get ... 10 grams times .750 times $30 ... $225.00.

I didn't get palpitations, I swear, because I wasn't going to get myself worked up. He'd seemed so sure.

Anyway, I spent nearly 4 hours there instead of 30 minutes, fell in love with the feel of it and the spectacle of it (I love flea markets!) so I know I'll go back. Then the Big Lug and I went on a bit of a road trip to find a can of his favorite pipe tobacco, the bits and chain all in the back the whole way. (He told me the chain felt too light ... my greedy girl wanted to slap him.) Once home, however, I put the thing in some ammonia-water, scrubbed it all up, and found ...

A gold tag on a dull, steely chain. Yep, the stamped ID was gold, but nothing else was. And it was obviously put on after the fact by some devious, calculating creep out to cheat someone - probably the box lot person.

The man who sold it to me, however, wasn't that creep, nor anyone of his ilk. Dad could have pulled a con. Shoot, Son could've seen it a mile away and ignored Dad - I know for a fact I have no poker face - but they didn't. And now I have a memento, an object lesson, and a teaching tool, all in one.

It was a pretty good day.