Sez Sooz:
Oh man..sometimes our similarities amaze me...
Boy, howdy. Here's 'nuther one.
After getting disgruntled enough to quit selling cars I took a job
delivering European cars - mostly Mercedes, some Porsches, BMWs and the odd
Rolls - to various dealerships in areas where demand exceeded supply. An
odd business that could have thrived only under the quirky economy of the
Reagan administration.
In a nutshell, during the Reagan years certain cities newly flush with
well-heeled yupsters sprouted dealerships that wanted to add the panache of
Euro cars to the old standbys of Fords, Chevies, etc. Problem is,
especially with Mercedes, you did things their way or no way. Result: some
dealers could sell three times as many Euro cars as they could get their
mitts on, while others couldn't sell half of their allotment.
The middleman company I worked for bought cars from, say, a Bismark dealer
that wanted the prestige of being a Ford/Mercedes dealer but couldn't sell
German cars to farmers who only bought trucks and Lincolns, at something
above dealer cost. Then they'd resell to a dealer in booming Atlanta, etc.,
where demand exceeded supply, for something below usual sticker price.
The end dealer was happy 'cause they could sell well above sticker price.
My company was happy 'cause it was easy money - no inventory hassles, no DOT
hassles, cash 'n' carry, all that was needed was a good Rolodex and phone
skills. And I was happy 'cause I made more than most long haul truckers,
didn't have the hassles of weigh stations and extortionist road usage taxes,
and enjoyed the offhand style of driving fine cars while dressing like Curt
Cobain before grunge was trendy.
The downside? Mercedes break down just like any other car. I spent many a
night in some hole-in-the-wall motel waiting for a tow and another
assignment. The next-to-last straw came when the broker I was driving for
got busted for possession of a buttload of cocaine with intent to
distribute. He was back in Fort Worth while I was stuck in Nowhere, New
Mexico for a week. Finally got rescued by the brokerage owner who,
thankfully, had no knowledge of or involvement with the dope. But the
actual last straw was four consecutive trips in which I got socked with
speeding tickets, which came out of my pocket.
And about that time I got notice that my application for a job with OSHA as
a safety inspector had been accepted, so it was back to real life.
A wild ride, fun while it lasted, and I haven't told half the story since
certain federal regulatory agencies might take offense.
Sorry, no OM content. My traveling camera at the time was a Pentax AF35,
their first true P&S. Had a thumbwheel winder like the XA-series. Not
quiet, tho' - the AF made a grindy robotic sound and it made various beeps
and wheeps that couldn't be turned off.
===========
Lex Jenkins
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"Yeah. Me. Baby. Love. Dig. More. Night. All. You. She. Car. My.
Her. Top. Down." - Assemble it yourself rock song
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