An incongruous series of events occurred to me yesterday. My wife had a
flat tire, so I lent her my Chrysler and took my 1958 Imperial to work,
something I've only done once or twice, so far. I am a salesman at a
Chrysler, Dodge and Jeep dealership just outside of Boerne, Texas. The
dealership is located on the access road of the freeway some twenty miles
outside of San Antonio.
For grins, I left the Imperial on the grass verge, windows open. On a
Saturday, we usually have lunch bought for us but by the time I finished
with one recalcitrant old German farmer who ended up not buying, the
vultures had descended and there was nothing left. So, not amused, I went
into Boerne to get a burger. When I got back I left the car in more or less
the same place, but facing in the opposite direction.
It was a slow day all around by four o'clock. Everyone had retreated inside
to the air conditioning and most everyone was sitting in a loose group,
trash talking and bragging. In comes a guy in a nice looking step sided
1984 Chevy pick up. There is such a rush for the door that its almost a
pile up. I had almost finished my crossword puzzle and was in no humour to
join in the melee. Soon enough, the entire entourage comes in, laughing
like hyenas. The driver of the truck was holding the keys to the Imperial,
my wallet and the fifteen dollars change I had received from the burger
purchase.
When the commotion died down and as the others settled down to wipe away
their tears of laughter at my stupidity, me and the guy go outside so he can
scope out the Imperial. He had seen it that morning on the way into San
Antonio and when he saw it on his way out, now facing the opposite way,
figured it must be for sale. He took the next exit and came back to get a
closer look, not that he could afford it.
My immediate, Pavlovian, car salesman's response was, "Why do you think you
can't afford it?" The conversation turns to his perception that his credit
was not good enough to buy a car. I ask him a bout his truck, on which he
has a clear title and which just happens to be in the glove box, since he
had tried to trade it some weeks before at another dealership but had been
denied.
At this point, I will cut the story short, since it no longer pertains to
the Imperial focus of this mailing list. Suffice it to say he left in a
brand new PT Cruiser Limited, with all the goodies including power sun roof.
So, from a series of minor misfortunes and a bad mood, good old Mrs.
Blueberry saved the day over and over. She got my wife to work, me to lunch
and, most importantly, a man who thought he could not get a new vehicle to
stop by and find out he could afford the car he had been wanting all along.
Hugh
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