A Big Twuck

They met me in the middle and dropped the sticker price to do just that. They said they were giving me top dollar on the trade in which I knew was bogus but let slide since they didn’t ask the pertinent questions about the car condition (not that I lied or actively omitted anything but I wasn’t going to offer up that it needed some work to be a smooth running machine; I figured it would run as-is for another 10,000 miles at least which was enough for me to say it was in Fair condition); had the Saturn not needed some tuning up I could have gotten twice what I was asking for it.

Jon, bitter and annoyed that I had cost him some commission and angry with me for playing some mild hardball waved us toward the front office to sign paperwork. An hour later I was on 580 Eastbound, driving my new-to-me 2004 Toyota Tundra, blaring In Flames’ Clayman album on the stereo and feeling, as I looked over the tops of the traffic in front of me like I was sitting somewhere close to the top of the world.

I got myself a Big Twuck. And Brian would be impressed.

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