Driving A Bargain

Jerry rang the doorbell, and was greeted by a man who looked about the same age as Jerry’s father … a sad-looking man with a face like a basset hound.

“Yes?” said the man.

“I called earlier,” said Jerry. “I’ve come about the car.”

The man’s eyebrows went up. “How old are you, son?”

“Sixteen.”

“Tell me about yourself” said the man.

Jerry couldn’t see what difference that would make. But he did want to soften the old guy up so that he’d take the lower price. And so: “My name’s Jerry Sloane,” he said. “I’m a student at Eastern High, just going into grade eleven. I’ve got my license, and I’ve been working all summer long on the loading dock down at Macabee’s.”

The bassett hound’s eyebrows went up. “Have you, now?”

“Yes,” said Jerry.

“You a good student?”

Jerry was embarrassed to answer; it seemed so nerdy to say it, but … “Straight A’s.”

The bassett hound nodded. “Good for you! Good for you!” He paused. “Are you a churchgoer, son?”

Jerry was surprised by the question, but he answered truthfully. “Most weeks, with my family. Calgary United.”

The man nodded again. “All right, would you like to take the car for a test drive?”

“Sure!”

Jerry got into the driver’s seat, and the man got into the passenger seat. Not that it should have mattered to whether the deal got made, but Jerry did the absolute best job he could of backing out of the driveway and turning onto the street. When they arrived at the corner, he came to a proper full stop at the stop sign, making sure the front of his car lifted up a bit before he continued into the empty intersection. That’s what they’d taught him in driver’s ed: you know you’ve come to a complete stop when the front of your car lifts up.

At the next intersection, Jerry signaled his turn, even though there was no one around and took a left onto Askwith Street.

The bassett hound nodded, impressed. “You’re a very careful driver,” he said.

“Thanks.”

Jerry was coming to another corner, where Askwith crossed Thurlbeck, and he decided to turn right. He activated the turn signal and—

“No!” shouted the man.

Jerry was startled and looked around, terrified that he’d been about to hit a cat or something. “What?” said Jerry. “What?”

“Don’t go down that way,” said the man, his voice shaking.

It was the route Jerry would have to take to get to school, but he was in no rush to see that old prison any sooner than he had to. He canceled his turn signal and continued straight through the intersection.

Jerry went along for another mile, then decided he’d better not overdo it and headed back to the man’s house.

“So,” said the man, “what did you think?”

“It’s a great car, but …”

“Oh, I know it could really use a front-end alignment,” said the man, “but it’s not that bad, is it?”

Jerry hadn’t even noticed, but he was clever enough to seize on the issue. “Well, it will need work,” he said, trying to sound like an old hand at such matters. “Tell you what—I’ll give you two thousand dollars for it.”

“Two thousand!” said the man. But then he fell silent, saying nothing else.

Jerry wanted to be cool, wanted to be a tough bargainer, but the man had such a sad face. “I’ll tell you the truth,” he said. “Two thousand is all I’ve got.”

“You worked for it?” asked the man.

Jerry nodded. “Every penny.”

The man was quiet for a bit, then he said, “You seem to be a fine young fellow,” he said. He extended his right hand across the gearshift to Jerry. “Deal.”

* * *

Today was the day. Today, the first Tuesday in September, would make everything worthwhile. Jerry put on his best—that is, his oldest—pair of jeans and a shirt with the sleeves ripped off. It was the perfect look.

He got in the car—his car—and started it, pulling out of the driveway. A left onto Schumann Street, a right onto Vigo. Jerry didn’t have any real choice of how to get to school, but was delighted that some of the other kids would see him en route. And if he happened to pass Ashley Brown … why, he’d pull over and offer her a lift. How sweet would that be?

Jerry came to the intersection with Thurlbeck, where there was a stop sign. But this time he was trying to impress a different audience. He slowed down and, without waiting for the front of the car to bounce up, turned right.

Thurlbeck was the long two-laned street that led straight to Eastern High. Jerry had to pick just the right speed. If he went too fast, none of the kids walking along would have a chance to see that it was him. But he couldn’t cruise along slowly, or they’d think he wasn’t comfortable driving. Not comfortable! Why, he’d been driving for months now. He picked a moderate speed and rolled down the driver’s-side window, resting his sleeveless arm on the edge of the opening.

Up ahead, a bunch of kids were walking along the sidewalk.

No … no, that wasn’t quite right. They weren’t walking—they were standing, all looking and pointing at something. That was perfect: in a moment, they’d all be looking and pointing at him.