Buying cars part 3
Wow, has it really been that long since part 2 was posted?
I left that day knowing that I finally did the one thing that my mom did not want me to do. My dad was all about it; he wanted to drive it. He had always hated the fox body mustangs as they were “too boxy” looking for him. The 95 had the smooth bubble look. It was curvaceous and sleek.
“So when can I pick her up?”, I asked.
“I’ll call you when I get the title, since I’m still paying it off”, she responded.
I had a more important question on my mind, however: “How the fuck am I going to afford this car?” At that time I had no money. I spent my co-op money on stupid bullshit like DJ equipment, camera equipment, vacations, and “her”. The answer I had prepared for myself was “who cares, you have a car”. I did the one thing that any responsible young adult would do: ask the parents.
The way I saw it, I had two choices. One choice was to get a personal loan from the bank, at an insanely high interest rate. Choice two was to secure a no interest “hey mom I bought a car” loan. It turned out to be easier than expected. I was working for ___ now, so I was bringing in money, and didn’t really have any significant balances on my credit cards. Dad had already given me his answer: “ask mom”….goddamn he is whipped. So I did: “I’ll give you $1000 a month, and pay it back quickly.” “Ok…if you really want to do this…” “Of course I do!”. Mothers tend not to understand the young male’s obsession with gadgets and cars, and I highly doubt they ever will. They watch soap operas, reality shows and Barefoot Contessa; I watch Top Gear and movies where shit blows up…it’s just the way the world works.
The next week was filled with anxiety. I knew I had a car, but I knew I wouldn’t feel entirely satisfied until I had the title and keys in hand. I didn’t tell modo that I had bought it right away, mostly because I knew he wanted to be the first to know. I’m just a dick like that…he’d be pissed off that he had no input in the decision. Whether or not he did, I have no idea, nor did I care. I just wanted this chick to call me back so I could pick up my car.
I knew she wouldn’t call during the weekend, so I expected something the following week. Monday rolls around, then Tuesday…and into Wednesday with no word. What…the…fuck. Did she change her mind, or did she forget….what? Finally, on Thursday I got a call. “Hey, you want to do the exchange next week? I called the place and they are sending the title down. It should arrive early next week, but just in case, you want to do it next Saturday morning?” “Sure…lemme know when and where, and I’m there.”
We had arranged to meet the next Saturday in the same spot at 1pm. The place that was holding her title was a couple of blocks away, so we both figured it would be easier to meet in a place we both knew how to get to. I called Baz and asked him if he was ok to drive up with me, so that he could drive my daily driver back and I’d drive the mustang back. He agreed, as I knew he would, and the next week of waiting commenced.
I stood outside of JC Penny at noon, since the food court was nearby. I grabbed some food and waited for her to show up. 1pm rolled around and instead of her arrival, I felt my cell phone ring.
“Hey, it’s me….umm….”
Oh christ…an “umm”, this can’t be good.
“Umm…what?”
“Listen, I know we arranged to meet now, but something happened…and I completely understand if you don’t want the car anymore.”
What the fuck, did she blow it up….dump paint thinner all over it?
“What happened?”
“Well V had the car at his lot, and he was cleaning it…but some old guy driving around didn’t make the corner and hit it at like ten miles per hour!”
She seemed quite genuinely apologetic…almost nervous, as if I was to give her 20 lashes in a public square for some great injustice…which I almost considered doing, had she not been hot. (Amazing how much shit women get away with based on appearance.)
“How bad?”
“Well, I’m on my way there, you’ll see it pretty soon.”
“Well thanks for the heads-up, see you when you get here.”
I wish I had a video camera to capture that conversation, because I’m pretty sure my expression went from euphoria, to anger, then to sadness all during that thirty second conversation, before settling upon its normal apathetic look.
Ten miles per hour…yea right. I looked at the car, and Baz and I both agreed that it looked like it had been crashed into a pole, not some old guy and at more than ten miles per hour. On the bright side, cause of the accident aside, the damage wasn’t all that bad. It was going to need a new bumper and fog lights, but that was about all I could see.
“I still want the car, but we have to work on price…I’m going to have to replace about $400 worth of stuff.”
She was a bit taken back by that number. I think that she was just ignorant about the cost of labor and parts for cars. I’m sure that in her mind, she was thinking “It’s just some plastic…what the fuck!”. “Are you sure…we can’t negotiate that a bit?”, she asked. I told her that we had already agreed on a price for the car as it sat when I saw it, and damage had to be taken into account, as well as the costs to get it back into that condition.
“Well, alright”, she said in a solemn voice, knowing that she needed to sell the car and that she had a buyer with cash in hand.
We went into the loan office, I gave her the money and she settled the lien on the car. She got the title, signed it, and gave it to me. “Well…she’s all yours, lemme just get the old license plate”.
Fuck…I had forgotten to bring a spare license plate so I could drive the car back to Philly. “Mind if I give that to you tomorrow, I kinda….umm….forgot a spare plate?” Thankfully, she agreed.
I got into the car…it felt a bit weird; so different from the Mazda. I started her up and put it into first. I was somewhere between giggling like a schoolgirl and nervousness. I threw her into first and away we go.
…Or did we? A giant clout of smoke came out from under the car. Christ, it’s been years since I drove a stickshift. There was nothing wrong with the car…that was just clutch smoke. I looked at the shifter….figures, I put it into third in my rush of emotion. I’m sure they laughed…I didn’t care. I threw it into first (for real this time) and away we go.
The drive back to Philly was fun. By the time we got to the Expressway I had gotten my shifting and clutch foot back. I was cruising. I needed gas, though…minor details as I needed to get the car registered and get a license plate.
…and that is a story in itself: to be continued.