Buy Your Treasure on the Manhattan-Bound A

"Fourteen-karat gold ring...
That's what i found...
I'll sell it right now...
Cheap, cheap, cheap."

He recites it like a snake-oil hawker giving his spiel in Olde Tyme days. I can't see his face--it rings forth from behind me, way back in the car, clear and full-bodied, vaguely hucksterish.

(Cheap, cheap, cheap, like a tired, old bird. Best offer, it's yours.)

"A jeweler estimated it at $240. I'll sell it to you right now for your best offer."

Minutes go by, and now the value has gone up.

"I showed it to two jewelers. It weighs 5.8 grams. They said it was worth $260 to $290."

I point out this increase in value to the woman next to me, who snorts.

"A guy in a pawn shop said he'd buy it for $80 but I don't have a New York license. I'll sell it to you now for your best offer."

The man finally slumps into my sight: He is stoop-shouldered and young, has a goatee and an olive-green cap. A hand-rolled cigarette rests behind his ear.

"I am not knocking Jesus, but it's a beautiful depiction of him. You've got to see it to appreciate it. I'll sell it right now. For your best offer. I'll even take one-tenth what the pawn shop said it was worth. Anything. Whatever your best offer is."

"It's 14-karat gold. It has the imprint inside it..."

"Nobody interested, huh?"

"The detail is amazing..."

"I found a ring..."