Trunk Space
The next time I buy a car from a private seller I’m going to take my friends Gabe and Jimmy with me. Gabe is a big white guy with a shaved head who only wears football jerseys. He doesn’t talk much because he hates people and he’s stupid. Also I don’t let him talk when we’re out in public because I don’t want anyone to know that I’m friends with stupid people. Stupid people make me want to smack them and I think about smacking Gabe a lot.
So mostly he just stands around looking pissy. I assume this is for two reasons: One, he’s not allowed to talk. Two: He can’t understand the conversation. However he carries shit for me and often lends me his truck. Friendship redeems itself in strange ways.
Jimmy just got out of a level four prison. I like to tell people that too.
“This is my friend Jimmy. He just got out of prison. Level four. He’s never killed anyone, that we can prove anyway.”
Just in case they want to lock their shit up. Which you know they do, but they’re afraid to do it in front of him in case he snaps.
When I got to the sellers house I would introduce everyone and then, while the owner was looking nervous, ask to see the car.
Trunk first.
This would raise some eyebrows but the seller would reluctantly agree to open the trunk.
Hehehe.
At which point I would ask how many people could fit in the trunk. Then, at the sellers blank stare I would turn to Jimmy, “Hey. So what do you think? One… two? I mean, is it big enough?”
Jimmy would look thoughtful and scratch his head.
“I dunno. Depends on how big they were.”
Then we would look at Gabe and we would make him climb in the trunk so we could get a better idea. We would close the trunk and tell him to struggle around testing the shocks.
When we were done we would tell the seller one of two things
A. Sorry, we’re looking for something a bit different.
Or
B. Looks great! How much?
God I love buying cars.
So mostly he just stands around looking pissy. I assume this is for two reasons: One, he’s not allowed to talk. Two: He can’t understand the conversation. However he carries shit for me and often lends me his truck. Friendship redeems itself in strange ways.
Jimmy just got out of a level four prison. I like to tell people that too.
“This is my friend Jimmy. He just got out of prison. Level four. He’s never killed anyone, that we can prove anyway.”
Just in case they want to lock their shit up. Which you know they do, but they’re afraid to do it in front of him in case he snaps.
When I got to the sellers house I would introduce everyone and then, while the owner was looking nervous, ask to see the car.
Trunk first.
This would raise some eyebrows but the seller would reluctantly agree to open the trunk.
Hehehe.
At which point I would ask how many people could fit in the trunk. Then, at the sellers blank stare I would turn to Jimmy, “Hey. So what do you think? One… two? I mean, is it big enough?”
Jimmy would look thoughtful and scratch his head.
“I dunno. Depends on how big they were.”
Then we would look at Gabe and we would make him climb in the trunk so we could get a better idea. We would close the trunk and tell him to struggle around testing the shocks.
When we were done we would tell the seller one of two things
A. Sorry, we’re looking for something a bit different.
Or
B. Looks great! How much?
God I love buying cars.
