Steve said last year they let a fellow named Ernest Fortune take a brand new Camaro for a spin, and he drove it all the way to California. The highway patrol was alerted in a dozen states, but before he could be spotted and arrested for grand theft auto, Ernest totaled the Camaro and killed himself somewhere along the Pacific Coast Highway. I just hope we see the pickup truck again. Ruben Poteat is another matter. I’d feel just fine if he took his business elsewhere. I’m not sure I trust him. But then, he probably doesn’t trust me either. I am, after all, a used car salesman. Ruben honks the horn and waves and pulls out of the lot with tires squealing. Great. Just what I need. Some guy who thinks he’s a Nascar racer taking one of my better models on the road. Well, for now, I’d best get back to my desk. Plenty of paperwork waiting to be done. The Setterquists—nice young couple—want to know what kind of deal I can give them on that ’65 Chevelle. It’s in good shape, mid-size but roomy, not too many miles on the odometer.
