Buying cars, Part 2
Modo wanted me to get a car almost as much as I did. Hell, if it wasn’t for him in the first place, I probably would not be sitting here about to buy a car. He owns a black 93 GT; complete with a supercharger, aftermarket heads, aftermarket intake among many other upgrades. The moment I met him, back in my first year of UPenn, the car was quick. It wasn’t fast…but it was quick. More importantly, it was fun to drive (of if you were me, to ride in). Naturally, being a Penn student at the time, and Modo being a Drexel grad, I began to furiously bust his chops about that fact. Typical Ivy League smug it was, but how often do you get to talk to someone who went to school right across the street from your school? On campus, the answer would be: fairly often, but this was outside the realm of school. Hell, he had graduated before I even started, but that point was irrelevant to me at the time. (note: I had known him for a bit at this point…even I’m not quite as bad as to “insult” someone without having any idea of who they were or how receptive they were to my type of humor) What it comes down to is: if I think you’re alright, then my acceptance of you is exemplified in my busting your balls. It’s a sign that I’m comfortable enough with you to know that you won’t get personally insulted, and therefore forge a stronger bond. Obviously, it’s not something I do constantly with my friends, but ball busting is done both ways rather freely. Ironically, I went to Drexel the next year, and received (and still do) my fair share of ball busting about it.
I was still sitting in the car; waiting. Modo had just called and asked me what I was up to. “I’m waiting for this chick to show up with the car”, I said. “What car…and is she hot?”, he responded. I had no idea if this woman was hot or not, I didn’t know anything about her. “This mustang I’m looking at….and I don’t know if she’s hot or not, I’ve never met her before”. His response was to be expected: “Yo dude, what the fuck, I thought you were going to take me along to look at cars.” Yea, I might have said that, and he DID go with me to look at the previous selections. But for some reason, he wasn’t along for the ride this time. I had found this car myself; he had no idea which car it even was, and for some reason, that felt kind of rewarding. I have no idea why he wanted me to get a car almost as much as I did, but he did. I could only assume that he wanted to be able to beat the piss out of a car that is not his own. Not like that was likely, but let him think. It’s not like I ever got the chance to drive his car hard or anything like that. “Yea, I know…but you were at Jen’s and I didn’t want to bother you to go look at another car”, I responded. I think that was good enough for him. “Nah man, I would have gone with you, I wanna see this shit.” Oh well, tough luck.
I thought I heard something. Was that the rumble of a mustang exhaust? Nope…just a Ford pickup truck driving by. Damn… it’s 8:10, where is this chick? Am I waiting in front of the right store…did she say 8:00…was she even planning on coming? A lot of questions float through your head when you’re an impatient sonofa bitch like me. Funny thing is, looking at it now…I wonder what I was so worried about. It was only 10 minutes, not like I can expect precise timing from everyone, especially taking into account the fact that people work, have lives, have families…have traffic…
We moved anyway. I drove around the parking lot for a bit, hoping to catch a glimpse of red somewhere in this lot. I didn’t see it. 8:20 - “what the hell”. My dad is as impatient as I am, it seems.
“There she is…I think”, I said as I saw a red mustang pull into the parking lot and proceed to the empty lot behind Sears. It was the only red mustang there, and it looked like it was waiting for someone. I put my car in gear and go to meet the mustang. It had to be her…it was the only mustang in the lot. Hell, it was the only red car in the lot. Red…mustang….alone….had to be. And it was.
She got out of the car, and the three of us just looked at each other. Damn…she was pretty hot. She got out of the car, and that was about as good as that part was going to get, as she was followed by her daughter and what I assumed to be her boyfriend. She was a mix of white and Hispanic, petite but with a well proportioned body. Her face was cute, with big brown eyes and shoulder length hair. Her accompanying gentleman (and I use this term lightly) looked like he could play backup for the 76ers. He was a monster compared to her. She was about five foot two, and he was about a foot and a half taller. I couldn’t really see too much detail; he was black, was wearing black clothes, a black cap and it was dark outside. I figured his looks to be irrelevant. Her daughter, who was also his, was a mix of the two, and looked like she was about seven or so.
“Hey, I’m Luke, we spoke earlier”, I introduced myself. She gave me her name, and turned around to introduce Victor, her escort. She said they used to date, and had her daughter, but still hung around, and that she brought him because she didn’t want to meet some random guy alone. It made sense, although it shocked me a bit to hear how much information she was freely divulging. Not that it wasn’t interesting, but I don’t know of many people who would be so open. As she turned around to grab her daughter, I saw the back of her “one size too small on purpose” shirt come up and reveal a tattoo in the small of her back. The tattoo read “Victor”, and had little hearts around it. How cute…get a tattoo of the guy’s name that you are no longer “with”. I don’t judge, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t snicker about it when I got home.
“So, tell me a bit more about the car”, I said after we talked about random bullshit for a half hour. I could see that both my dad and Baz were getting a bit impatient standing there, although I couldn’t help but notice both of them checking this girl out. She told me that she bought the car from a dealer, and that it was all original. I liked that. It’s hard to find a 5.0 mustang that hasn’t already been fucked with. As I talked to her about the history of the car, and how she babied it and took care of it, and all that other happy horseshit, Baz and my dad were looking over the car. Baz checked the body to make sure it was straight, checked the torque boxes, and both looked over the body to see if they could notice any scratches or dents. I didn’t expect the car to be perfect, especially for the advertised price. I was surprised how good it actually looked. It had a few scratches, but nothing that would be outside normal driving wear. Minor dents that were attributed to road debris or hail were present, but again, still beyond acceptable.
“Can I take it for a spin around the lot?”, I asked. “Sure, go ahead…Victor will go with you.” At least she was smart; while she had divulged a lot of random information about herself, but she wasn’t about to trust someone with her car. We all (me, Baz, my dad and Victor) squeezed into the car. I told Baz that he should probably be the one to drive it, since he has a lot more experience in “feeling” certain things out in cars. He had years of experience, he had built cars, he had stripped them down and put them back together; he knew what he was looking for. Car ran good. Save for a little bit of play in the harmonic balancer, the car ran better than I expected.
“Alright, I’ll take it.”
to be continued…