Used car sales(wo)man

This past spring my 88 year-old grandmother made the transition from living alone in her own home to more of a senior living center type facility. She no longer needs to grocery shop (save for the snacks* she likes to have in her apartment), do her laundry, or vacuum, although I don't think that she's comfortable with giving up her ironing quite yet. This is where she and I differ.

Along with the boxing up of personal belongings, the redistributing of family heirlooms, and the selling of the home, that last on the list of 'things-to-do-so-grandma-felt-completely-settled' was to sell her car. With her children hours away I accepted the task from my dad and then promptly procrastinated.** Sure I parked it down the street in a highly visible location with signs in the window but that's about as far as I went. A couple of weeks went by with minimal interest and I decided to put it on the world wide web. Surely it would sell as quickly as a corn dog at the fair. Unless of course you don't like corn dogs and then that's a bad example. How about cotton candy?

I took photos and used my marketing skills to put together an inviting description on one of the more popular car sites and there it sat for three weeks. I took a few calls from interested parties that lived out of state however the eagerness predictably changed after a quick mapquest revealed that a simple Saturday-afternoon transaction was probably not in the cards. The closest caller lived a scant 6 hours away. 

The listing on the internet expired and I decided I'd rather spend $25 on salted caramel mochas from Starbucks.*** My jeans are wishing I'd renewed the ad.

This is where I had a moment of clarity and thought to advertise in the local weekly shopper. It was my last resort.

GRANDMA'S CAR IS FOR SALE: 2004 Chevrolet Impala LS, V6, with only 10,300 miles. That is not a misprint, only 10,300 miles. Sandstone metallic with beige interior. Absolutely spotless, garaged vehicle with PD, PW, power seats, CC, CD player, and more. All service records included. (Price and phone number here)

I hoped the bold type that I paid extra for would draw attention and the headline would be the hook. I pictured a family finding a reliable, safe car for their young driver. Or maybe a college student who would decorate the outside with bumper stickers and the inside with fast food wrappers. I did not for one second picture an 89 year-old man.

This paper hits stands around the valley on Thursday morning. I received my first call from him before noon that same day. His message simply said 'Hi . . . . . . 555 -1212****'. I called him back on my lunch break and his first question was 'Well . . . . . . . is it worn out?' I quickly defended my grandmother's car and reminded him that it only had 10,300 miles. He laughed and said (very slowly) that he was pulling my leg. I wondered if the call was going to extend past my lunch break.

We talked, I told him what he needed to know, he drove down and looked at the car, and called me back before I got out of work. His second message said 'Hi . . . . . . . I want to see the inside of the car . . . . . . . but I want it.' 

We made a plan to meet the next day before I headed east for the weekend. I arrived 10 minutes early and he was already there literally kicking the tires. 

He was pleasant with an easy laugh. He wore browline glasses and his front teeth were gone. He opened the hood and looked at the engine. He checked the oil and asked when the last time was that she was driven. He wondered multiple times what size the tires were because they looked awfully big. 

He wanted to take it for a spin around the parking lot. I handed him the keys and wondered if he planned on stealing it, leaving me with his 1996 Oldsmobile '88. I figured there'd be no way that he'd leave that beauty behind since he did tell me that he'd recently waxed it. He said to me "hop in, we'll go around the parking lot." I did and then instantly regretted it wondering if he did in fact have plans to tear out of the parking lot and head for the hills. He put it in reverse and I considered jumping out . . . every scary made-for-TV-movie about kidnapping running through my head. We did a large circle in the parking lot reaching a top speed of 8 MPH with me holding the door handle just in case. 

We parked it. He double-checked the VIN number to make sure I wasn't selling any stolen goods. He asked again about the tires. He asked if I was a Republican or a Democrat. I must have answered correctly because he bought the car.

We settled on a price and made a plan to meet at the credit union after I'd gotten the title signed and notarized with my Grandma. He wondered if maybe he should ride along with me and come meet my Grandma. I wondered if that was a good idea.

I met my very-eager-to-get-the-car-sold Grandma and told her that the man buying her car was just one year older than her. She laughed and wondered if maybe she should meet him. I still wondered if that was a good idea. 

With the title signed and notarized, and a check in hand, I gave him the keys. He gave me political literature. I'm glad that Grandma only had one car to sell.

*Windmill cookies galore.

**Procrastinating skills galore.

***That is roughly 5 grande mochas. Highway robbery galore.

****Of course that's not his number. He doesn't work for 'Information'. There's no way I can end this with the word galore.