I had another potential buyer for the Jeep on the phone who identified himself as Charlie from Hot Springs and asked me to tell him something about the vehicle I was selling. So I did, then telling him, at that particular moment, it wouldn’t start.
“Do you think it’s the battery?” Charlie asked.
I said yes, probably.
“I get off work at five, which would put me in Little Rock between six and six-thirty. We’ll see what we can come up with.”
“OK.” I said. “But don’t you want to wait and see if it’s the battery?”
He said no, that he wanted to come have a look-see, which made me think I must have it priced too low since he was still coming.
When I got off work I was tired and called Charlie, saying I thought tomorrow would be better because I hated to see him drive all that way if we couldn’t get it started. He said he had already left work and was on his way to pick up the “little woman.”
“That’s great, Charlie,” I lied some more. “See you when you get here.”
When I got home, the god of grease spots must have been smiling down on me because the Jeep started right up. This put a little bounce in my dragging feet, and I began cleaning it up. I had it looking good and was optimistic about selling it.
Charlie and the little woman soon got there, driving a truck and pulling a flatbed behind it. I definitely had it priced too cheap.
They had their grandson with them, and after introductions, I beamed that the Jeep had somehow miraculously started. Charlie looked at me suspiciously and tried it himself. Of course, it was dead again. He looked under the hood and asked me if I had a hammer. After convincing myself he hadn’t come to murder me for my nine-year old Jeep with 150,000 miles on it, I went to get it.
Charlie was under the Jeep when I heard him say, “Now,” and I turned the key and it fired right up. Whatever he had done under there had worked.
As the Jeep’s loud engine roared, the little woman moved in for a closer look. She began talking about gaskets and headers and emissions and some other Greek words I’d never heard before. The little grandson just stood there with his hands over his ears. I felt like joining him.
Charlie wanted to drive it, and asked me to go along in case he got lost. As we drove, he listed everything that needed to be fixed. He tried rolling down the driver’s side electric window, which of course was stuck. I told him to try slamming the door, and when that worked, I smiled at him like I was throwing in a luxury option for free.
I began talking about maybe just hanging on to it when he made me an offer. It was almost a thousand less than what I’d been asking, but I was so delighted that my poker face slid off onto the dirty carpet and I blurted out, “Really!” like some ten-year old kid finding out he was going to Disney World. Charlie gave me a funny look and dropped his price a little more. But I came to my senses and almost got him back to his original offer.
He and the little woman got it loaded on their trailer and they, along with the little grandson, took the old red Jeep down the street and out of my life.