OGDEN — Matthew Godfrey, the Ogden mayor, is anxious to show a pair of guests his refurbished town. Who better to show it than the man who turned this place upside down, converting a blighted old railroad town into an outdoor adventure mecca that is gaining national attention.

Godfrey escorts his guests from his office into a parking lot, looking for his car. "This is it," he says, but it can't be. The car he is opening has faded paint — gold fading to gray and silver — and the hood is blotched by years of sun and weather. Where is the official city car, the Benz, the SUV, something else?

"Climb in," he says, moving a child's seat to clear the back seat. "If you find any Cheerios back there, you can have them."

The mayor's car is a 1992 Nissan Maxima with 167,000 miles. His wife Monica has the family's newer car — a 1996 Dodge Caravan with 140,000 miles on it.

"I'm too cheap," he says, slipping into the front seat of the Maxima. "I have a hard time spending money."

He could probably convince the city to spring for a car for his use, but he won't do it.

"This one works fine," he says.

That's Godfrey. This man is so frugal that Stuart Reid, his former community and economic developer, complains, "He wore this one jacket all the time that looked like it came out of the '70s. I was tempted to throw it away."

The irony of this is difficult to miss, because one of the things Godfrey has been criticized for is spending hundreds of millions of dollars to revitalize Ogden's dying downtown area.

Which is exactly what he set out to do in his only-in-America first run for office eight years ago. He was the unlikeliest of candidates — 29 years old, no political experience, a late campaign start, an unbeaten opponent — and won anyway with an old-fashioned, door-to-door campaign. At the time he was the youngest mayor in the country. With a very narrow re-election victory this month (490 votes over Councilwoman Susan van Hooser), he will soon start his third term.

Godfrey steers the old Maxima onto the road and drives a couple of blocks through Ogden before pulling to the side of the road next to an empty lot. "See this area," he says, pointing.

"There were vagrants there. There were needles in the sand and grass. No one would come there. We spent $2 million on an amphitheater. We were told over and over no one will come; they were too scared. It's been a tremendous success. We offered free movies on Monday nights. By the third week it was packed."

He continues driving but soon stops again.

"This block was a mess," he says. "There was a dump and a salvage yard and barbed wire fence."