Car Guys

My first job was detailing cars with a guy who sung along to the Golden Oldies station on the radio while we polished 20-year-old Ferraris for dealerships and sucked puke out of minivans. Now he sells used cars. His hair is bleached blonde and he still chain smokes, but he somehow is not a used car salesman stereotype. He’s not pushy, he’s not cheesy--he’s a guy who’s in business for himself in an industry he knows well.

Combine that job experience with the fact that I wrote this shortly after overhearing a conversation between two businessmen on a plane. They discussed business while one disclosed some pretty personal information to the other.

Buff me. Sell me. 

“Danny?”
“Sorry Bare”
“You all right?” 
“Yeah...Yeah," Dan sat in the chair next to Barry, pulled out out his laptop as if it was nothing more than an extension of his own arm. “Sorry. I meant to get here sooner.”
“No problem.”
“My son got pulled over last night.”
“Yea?”
“Yeah,” Dan sighed. The laptop came to life and he clicked a few keys. “And they had a warrant out for his arrest.”
Barry raised his eyebrows, but kept his gaze on the series of car photos Dan pulled up on the screen.
“Well, not a warrant,” Dan corrected himself, “they got him on a suspended license.”
“Unpaid tickets?”
“They called me and said if I picked him up, they’d let it go.” Dan scrolled down the list of cars at auction and they both scanned from left to right. “So I lost a few hours of sleep over that.”
“No problem.” Barry repeated. He scanned the screen. He was in what he called Vulture Mode.
“I mean...,” Dan continued, “they really like us.”
“Yeah?”
The cops, I mean. Remember when those cops got shot a few years ago?”
Barry nodded.
“My lot up north, we loaned the force a few cars for the funeral.”
“Yeah? What was it you loaned ‘em?”
“Sedans, mainly Camry’s.”
“Those are good,” Barry nodded, “they hold value.”
“And we gave away two to the families.”
“How many miles?” Barry asked without looking away from the screen.
“Only 14.”
“Hmm....new,” Barry hummed quietly.
“So....” Dan slowly began to join Barry, “they.....really like me. They took it easy on him.”
“Yeah. Well....that is a good thing.”
The two men sat quiet for a while, waiting for the right meat to pick off the bone.
“Check it out,” Danny tapped the screen with his pinky. It was a jacked up Chevy 2500 with $5000 rims. Only 45,000 miles.


For nearly an hour the men scrolled through cars up for auction that week in silence, highlighting bank repos and police-seized property. Their headed nodded up and down in vulture mode, hoping to swoop in and feed on some poor sap’s misfortunes