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October 13, 2007

Used Cars

In my life, I’ve only owned three cars: a gold 1974 Firebird (just like Jim Rockford’s, except leaking oil created stains everywhere I parked and plumes of black smoke every time I drove; also, the paint was splotchy and fading in spots, I had to rebuild the tailpipe out of soup cans and duct tape, the turn signals didn’t work, and the windows only rolled down a quarter of the way), a blue 1987 Ford Econoline with many of the same problems, and my dream car: a black 1994 Cadillac hearse with decorative flames and a supercharged engine.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: legendary rock star Girth McDürchstein drives a 13-year-old car? It’s true, but not in the ways you think—every year, I have the car completely overhauled, engine rebuilt from scratch and updated as auto technology improves. To sum up: it’s the greatest car in the history of the horseless carriage, and I consider myself lucky to own it.

And yet…it’s an incredibly dangerous vehicle. I discovered this during my early, ill-advised attempts at street racing. It handles like a school bus, corners like a shopping cart, and it is incredibly front-heavy because it’s designed to use caskets as a counter-weight. Even when I bought a cheap coffin and weighted it with bricks, the hearse lost every race and killed more small animals than I want to admit.

I need a safer car. I have a daughter now. I can’t blast along the 5 at 85mph in a hearse that will flip if I take a curve too quickly. I still need something roomy—to drive around her friends and any necessary equipment—but nothing monstrous like a Hummer or even an SUV. After hours of research, I decided on a Pontiac Montana. If I read the crash test ratings correctly, it’s the safest car on the road.

I went down to my local Pontiac dealer. The salesman, a lanky and greasy middle-aged man who introduced himself as Mitch McConnell, informed me that they don’t sell 2008 models in the U.S. yet. He tried to talk me into importing one at high cost from Mexico. I refused, which seemed to disappoint the salesman.

“Give me a 2007,” I said. “Wait.”

I dialed the number for the iPhone I bought for Renal and asked for her favorite color. “Brown,” she said without thinking.

“Do you have any brown ones?” I asked Mitch.

He shrugged. “What shade of brown?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Regular. Not tan.”

“All right,” the salesman groaned. “I think we have a couple. You want to test drive it?”

“No,” I said. “I trust its safety rating. I would like to buy it.”

“Really?” Mitch perked up a bit.

“How much does it cost?”

“Uhhh…I couldn’t let you take it for less than $63,000.”

“Does that include a radio?”

“It even has a CD player.”

“Wow, cool! Oh, also, it’s a trade-in.”

“Really? For what?”

“A 1994 hearse.”

Mitch scratched his head for no clear reason. “A hearse?”

“Supercharged,” I said.

Mitch sighed, slumping back next to a Grand Prix in the showroom. “Well, I guess I could knock off three grand for it.”

“Deal. How’s cash?”

The salesman’s eyes bulged. He nodded in a way that, for some reason, reminded me of crazed prospectors in one of those old gold-rush movie, then took me to sign some papers. I tossed him six packs of hundreds from my duffel bag of cash. Mitch stared at the money, literally salivating. I knew I had come out on top with this deal.

Written by Girth McDürchstein on October 13, 2007 4:49 PM
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