When I left work, all I could think about was climbing out of the car, limping into the house and getting off of my leg.
But, no…
My mechanic called. He had a “young kid” who wanted to buy Wild Bill (my old 1979 F150).
I was not prepared for this…
I mean, it is good news…
I have tried to sell that truck several times but when I try to sell it, no one wants it.
After the last time, I parked Bill in my mechanic’s parking lot where it has been sitting for the last year and a half.
“That’s great…”, I said weakly.
He then proceeded to tell me that this “kid’s” truck was stolen. The cops had found his truck and impounded it. But they never called him to tell him. So the impound fees were so high that he couldn’t afford to bet his truck back.
I asked to talk to “the kid.”
He doesn’t have any cash right now…
He is a tree trimmer…
He’s got worked lined up for the entire week but nothing to haul the cuttings away with…
He should make $3,750…
I told him that I needed about 45 minutes to get a bite to eat, find the title and drive over to his place.
I looked through our folders labeled “Cars”, “DMV”, “Important Papers”
I found the title for every other car (and I have 5 of them if you count my project car) but guess what…
I couldn’t find the title for Wild Bill! I checked again…nothing.
My wife checked…nothing
I decided to go and meet the prospective buyer.
They weren’t there. We waited for 45 minutes.
While we waited for them to get back, I told my mechanic that I was thinking of letting them borrow Bill for the three days, make the money and then buy him if they still wanted to.
He assured me that the woman who had introduced him to them was a good woman from his church who he had known and trusted for more than 30 years.
Finally, a guy with a long blonde pony tail covered with tattoos walked in.
“This is a kid?…He’s got to be in his 30’s.”
His newly “pregnant wife” came in with frizzy, curly hair done up in pigtails. I began to get the distinct impression that she was trying to play her “part” because she definitely had a few miles on her.
Then the guys “brother” came in. He was about a foot taller, had black hair and was juiced up on something.
I told them that I couldn’t find the title but that we would either find it tomorrow or get a duplicate title.
Then things took an unexpected twist…
My mechanic offered to let them borrow his truck so he could get to work and I could find the title.
