After six years of faithful service and constant abuse, my old car is no more. The sounds coming from the engine were beginning to resemble mechanical emphysema, and plenty of other expensive problems were cropping up.
So, I sold the PT Cruiser. Yes, I drove a PT Cruiser. And, yes, I realize that only the geriatric own PT Cruisers. In order to save face with my manhood, I’ll claim that I was under-compensating for the size of my schnitzel. You know, like the needle-dick with the lifted monster truck, but in reverse.
Anyway, the point of this post was to talk about car salesmen, and the entertainment my fiancé and I got during negotiations. It was sort of like being on Deal or No Deal, but Howie was black, and instead of models in bikinis, there were fat guys in bad suits. So, there we were at the Subaru dealership…
I really did get the thing for 6k under sticker price. And the kidney paid for a full tank. Go me.
Musica: The Smiths