Stevens 5-Star Car & Truck Center

I got a great deal with out any hassle. I don’t know what else you could ask for from a car dealership. I got about a 20% discount off of MSRP. That is hard to beat. The staff was great, I arranged the whole deal over the phone in less than an hour on Friday and when I went to pick it up on Monday, I signed a few forms and drove away. They even had my license plates for me. This is how car buying should be.

In other news from December 1983, my father decided he was buying my mom a new car.
Perhaps you’ve seen No Country For Old Men. 1980 West Texas … 1983 Texas Panhandle … fairly parallel worlds.
The number one criteria my dad was using for this car had nothing to do with performance or size or quality or craftsmanship. My dad was hellbent that he was getting a full-​sized spare with this car. And he wasn’t going to budge.
Remember that episode of the Cosby Show where Dr. Huxtable takes Theo with him to the car dealership to «show him how it’s done?» Well, Heathcliff stole that idea from my old man … except I was 7 at the time. I was more interested in Big Wheels and Sit ‘N Spins than buying Buicks at better than invoice.
So my dad, clearly, without my help, finds a 1984 Buick Park Avenue that he thinks is the car for the job. He drives it. It handles like a tugboat. Accelerates like a pot pie. Rattles like it’s already ten years old. Perfect! Exactly what my old man demands from a car.
We get down to brass tacks. Dad makes an offer. The dealer says he needs a little more. I have no idea what the numbers are, as they were written on a piece of paper that kept getting slid across the desk a good 6 inches above my head.
Anyway, Dad says, «one more thing. I have to have a full size spare.»
«Well, Mr. B. to improve fuel economy, all GM cars are coming with mini spares now. Besides you just need a spare to get you to the next …»
And then, a funny thing happened. My normally docile father blew up. I remember seeing the wind up coming like it was a Dennis Eckersley pitch. I could see it coming. The dealer could see it coming. The little piece of paper with the numbers scribbled on it could see it coming.
The only problem is, my dad hadn’t prepared for what he was going to say … clearly. Because what came next was the … well …
«I wouldn’t want one of those things shoved up my ass if I had room for a cattle truck.»
Unexpected?
Yeah, even I knew that was likely the most awkward moment of my life. In the 24 years since, it still is.
What, dad? Why are we shoving things up asses? And … personally, just me, clearly … I’d much rather have a mini spare tire up my ass than an 18 wheeler. Just me, though.
Take the time it took you to read those last two paragraphs. That is exactly how long it took for anything else to happen in the room. I think the dealer said, «Ummm … so … ummm … OK.»
I can’t remember leaving the office. I can’t remember the drive home. I can only remember bursting in the front door. Looking at something … anything … in the living room. Pointing, and telling my mom, «I wouldn’t want that shoved up my ass if I had room for a cattle truck.»
«Where did you hear such a thing?»
Dad’s blushing and stammering give you any idea, mom?
Moral of the story? Always, always, always think far enough ahead to have your nuclear option out of the conversation locked and loaded. Because you don’t want both the guys in your head to turn their keys and hit their buttons and launch «I wouldn’t want that shoved up my ass if I had room for a cattle truck.» You just don’t.