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ROUND NUMBERS  He wanted a foreign made sports car that cost more than the original price of the house... |
Let's ban all husbands
from auto dealerships!
of TheColumnists.com
Here we are with another new car season. Once
per year was enough. Now we have to suffer through it twice.
Haven't we atoned already?
"Boy, honey, I don't know. That car is really in bad
shape," your husband will say.
You know you've heard that before. Does he say something
like, "The engine is shot and it's costing us a fortune
in repair bills. That thing is nickel and diming us to
death." A husband never says, "Maybe I'd like to buy
a new car," or, "Don't you think we need a new car?"
I used to be married to a man like that. He was obsessed
with cars. One of the first cars we had was purchased in
1962. By the fall of 1963 it was in such bad condition it wouldn't
last until the end of the payments (which it did). In 1964
it needed a new transmission and wheel bearings (which it didn't
get). In 1965 the poor thing was going to die if the mechanic
didn't operate and put in a new engine (it coughed a lot, but
it lived). In 1966 it actually did develop aches and pains,
but it was fully paid for. The miracle of a tune
up restored vim and vigor back into its little soul.
I like cars and I know all about them. You put gas in the
tank when the gauge reads one-quarter. You have the attendant
check the oil, water and tires when you buy full service.
You make insurance payments twice a year. Once a year you
stand in line to get new tags when you forget to mail the renewal
payment. When there's no man around to fix a flat tire,
you call Triple A. I like the "paid for" cars the best.
My considered opinion is that although the automobile is an expensive
necessity for any family, I'd be happier with one that was given
to us free of charge. Well, wouldn't we all?
I got nervous and uneasy when I accompanied that man to a showroom.
He didn't really appreciate my opinions. The time he asked
what I thought about a particular new model my answer made him
mad. I told him it looked like something out of a cartoon
that Mickey Mouse should be driving. He would look at a car and
feel an overpowering urge to own and drive it. I looked
at the same thing and visualized monthly payments, taxes, insurance
and parking tickets.
Our first real argument was over a car. He wanted a foreign
made sports car that cost more than the original price of the
house we eventually bought. After many minutes of glassy-eyed
affirmation that he would have that car or know the reason why,
I told him why.
"Take your choice: me or that car. You know
we can't afford a sports car. Why, that's the most ridiculous
thing I've ever heard! I mean it. Me or the car,
but not both."
"I'm going to get that car and I don't care what you say.
Look here, just look at this. I've shown you how we can
afford it," he yelled flapping a piece of paper back and
forth in front of my nose.
"Well! If you buy that car you can learn to sleep
with it."
"It'll be a cold day in Death Valley when I sleep in a car!
I live here too, and don't you forget it!"
"As usual you're not listening. I didn't say sleep
in it, I said sleep with it."
"Oh." He didn't get the car.
We hadn't owned many cars when he quit taking me with him to
kick tires. He said I made a spectacle of myself haggling with
the hired help. Somehow I gave the impression that I don't
trust the salesperson; that they might be less than honest.
Really?
Go with your husband the next time he wants to look at a car.
The salesperson greets you with a warm smile, you tell them you'd
like to see what they have to offer and work out a trade.
The Great Actor looks your car over and then calls in the boss
for a consultation. They both look at it like two strangers
that have just discovered a horrible accident on a lonely road.
They shake their heads sadly, thump it here and there to see
if it will take the shock of their touch and not fall apart.
"You were lucky to have made it from home to here. Good
thing we're at the bottom of this hill. Going uphill must
be a real problem for you. I don't know. It sure
would cost me a lot to fix it up for resale."
 "Take your choice, Buster: You can either sleep with me or the car!" |
When you ask how much the victim is worth as a trade in the actor writes figures on a small piece of paper.
"This is the best I can do. Round numbers, of course."
After you catch your breath the bunch of you either have a good laugh or a small fight.
One Saturday I was cleaning the oven when the ringing of the telephone interrupted me.
"Would you please tell your husband that he forgot to leave keys to his car? I no can move it," a foreign accent said to me.
"Oh, are you servicing the car?"
"No, lady, the car I'm selling him."
"I'm sorry, I think you have dialed the wrong number."
"Mrs. Grump, is it you?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, I am having the right number. Your husband, he trade that old car for a station wagon."
"HE WHAT?" I shouted.
"Excuse me, lady, the wrong number I am having."
Enters now the car buyer.
"Guess what I did."
"You forgot to leave the keys and the man can't move the car."
"Yeah, well I remembered that a few blocks away and went back. How did
you know?"
"He called me," sounding ever so casual.
"That's probably why he didn't have much to say. You want me to take you for a ride?"
"Thank you, I believe you already have. Okay, what color is it?"
"Orange, or something close to it. Come on, let's go."
We had discussed picking up a second hand wagon, but an orange one? Actually, it wasn't orange. Almost gold or tan, not what I would call orange.
"How do you like it? I've got to get the generator fixed but that's not much."
"The generator? I thought they were expensive."
"Oh, no. It's cheaper than a battery."
"It needs a battery too?"
"No, I was using that as a comparison."
"Wait, wait. Something is wrong. Why do the wheels feel square?"
"There's nothing wrong with the wheels. The tires are nylon and they need to warm up. Tires can feel funny until they warm up to the road."
"This is August, for crying out loud. How much time will they need in December?"
"Come on, now. We've had too many scenes like this. What's the matter with you? You can't even change a tire, much less diagnose a problem. Don't you think I can buy a car without you?"
"You could have told me," I retorted in a huff.
"Okay, I'm telling you. I bought us a station wagon. That guy gave me a pretty good deal. Without your help, I might add."
"How much of a good deal was it?"
"Uh, well, our car and, uh, well, it's a good deal. Practically an even trade."
"What in the world is that?"
"What are you pointing at?"
"What? That wire thing sticking up near the window."
"That's the radio antenna."
"But it looks like a coat hanger."
"It is a coat hanger. We'll get a new antenna. The radio works okay. Listen," and he turned it on to some rock and squawk station.
Remember that handy little trick the next time your antenna needs replacing. Just take a wire coat hanger, straighten it out and stick it on the fender. Paint it first so that it won't rust like this one had.
"Heaven help us," I laughed. "Look, okay, you proved that the hanger makes the radio work. Now show me what all these buttons do."
The station wagon was okay up to a point. That point came when it wouldn't always start. The Wild Car Buyer rigged up a magic twanger. All I had to do was get under the hood and attach one end of the twanger to something. The other end was attached to something else. I'd get back into the car and turn the key. If it worked, I removed the magic twanger and closed the hood. When it didn't work I called you-know-who to come and get me.
I have to admit I did learn to like it after my initial doubts. I had trouble at first judging my distance when turning corners, and no way could I put it into the garage. Two weeks of herding the beast and I could have qualified as a World War II tank driver.
Not much had changed in his fever symptoms that fall when the new cars came out. I tied that man to the bedroom closet door. The rope reached only as far as his side of the bed. I did not allow magazines, newspapers or conversations under our roof that even mentioned four wheeled moving objects. Allowing for a margin of error I then employed the infallible brainwashing tactics that erased all thought and memory of wanting to buy another car. He was hypnotized by experts. His post hypnotic suggestion was the word "car."
When he heard his key word his immediate response was, "I really like our car. It's going to last us for years. Why, the maintenance is hardly anything at all. And the gas mileage--you just wouldn't believe it."
It's probably a good thing they have a death penalty in this state. I mean, now the new car season comes around in June and October. Show me a wife who hasn't been tempted to put her husband out of her misery (yes, that's right) over a car. If your lawyer could wrangle an all woman jury you might beat the rap. Put me on that jury and I'd say, "Your honor, we have voted unanimously to give her a gold star, a ticker tape parade and an all expense paid vacation to Las Vegas. She's not guilty."
© 2002 by Patricia J. Geister. The illustrations are from IMSI's Master Clips Collection, 1895 Francisco Blvd. E., San Rafael, CA, 94901-5506, USA.
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