Carless, yet Selfless: My wonderful boyfriend
CanIget22? DoIhear23? 24?24? Iseeyou24! Jumpingto25…25,25,25! Yesiree26! DoIhear27?!
JD and I stood in the middle of a plane hanger as cars slowly rolled along each side of the building. There were two auctioneers simultaneously spouting off numbers like sprinklers. 28,28,28,28,29,29 [deep breath] 30,30…Sold! Crowds of men walked back and forth with their cell phones and PDAs in hand. It looked like a scene from the New York Stock Exchange trading floor—arms flailing and numbers being shouted—except the men didn’t wear ties. The Middle Eastern men wore multiple gold necklaces and smoked on thin cigarettes. The Hispanic men spoke in Spanish and wiped their hands on their shirts after inspecting the engine. The Korean men spoke in hushed tones behind their trading booklets, occasionally pulling out a pen from their sport coats. And they all congregated by ethnicity.
These men meant business. They knew what they were bidding for, whereas JD and I kind of guessed. They are professionals who buy cars at auctions, then take them to the Westside only to hike up the prices. We had never been to a car auction, but we were encouraged to go on advice from a friend.
We arrived early and searched the huge lot of cars we liked. We noted their lot numbers on a scratch piece of pink paper I had in my purse. The Russian standing next to me didn’t need a pen…he was cross-referencing prices on his Blackberry and speaking into his Bluetooth. I gave JD a look. The kind of look that said: We’re-in-waaaaay-over-our-heads.
We thought we’d buy a car today, but it really didn’t work out the way we anticipated. We don’t know enough about cars to make an educated bid. And I don’t own a Blackberry. By this alone, I should have disqualified myself. Oh, and I don’t wear gold chains…I’m even more disqualified ☺
We walked away from the auction this afternoon and celebrated our car-lessness at In-n-Out. Don’t worry, JD reassured me after taking a sip from his lemonade/7Up concoction, we’ll find a car for you.
Wait, what?! A car for me, I asked. Yes, I’ll take your car and you can get the new one, he nonchalantly said.
Ladies and gentlemen…I’m gonna get a new car!!! Yay! ☺
JD and I stood in the middle of a plane hanger as cars slowly rolled along each side of the building. There were two auctioneers simultaneously spouting off numbers like sprinklers. 28,28,28,28,29,29 [deep breath] 30,30…Sold! Crowds of men walked back and forth with their cell phones and PDAs in hand. It looked like a scene from the New York Stock Exchange trading floor—arms flailing and numbers being shouted—except the men didn’t wear ties. The Middle Eastern men wore multiple gold necklaces and smoked on thin cigarettes. The Hispanic men spoke in Spanish and wiped their hands on their shirts after inspecting the engine. The Korean men spoke in hushed tones behind their trading booklets, occasionally pulling out a pen from their sport coats. And they all congregated by ethnicity.
These men meant business. They knew what they were bidding for, whereas JD and I kind of guessed. They are professionals who buy cars at auctions, then take them to the Westside only to hike up the prices. We had never been to a car auction, but we were encouraged to go on advice from a friend.
We arrived early and searched the huge lot of cars we liked. We noted their lot numbers on a scratch piece of pink paper I had in my purse. The Russian standing next to me didn’t need a pen…he was cross-referencing prices on his Blackberry and speaking into his Bluetooth. I gave JD a look. The kind of look that said: We’re-in-waaaaay-over-our-heads.
We thought we’d buy a car today, but it really didn’t work out the way we anticipated. We don’t know enough about cars to make an educated bid. And I don’t own a Blackberry. By this alone, I should have disqualified myself. Oh, and I don’t wear gold chains…I’m even more disqualified ☺
We walked away from the auction this afternoon and celebrated our car-lessness at In-n-Out. Don’t worry, JD reassured me after taking a sip from his lemonade/7Up concoction, we’ll find a car for you.
Wait, what?! A car for me, I asked. Yes, I’ll take your car and you can get the new one, he nonchalantly said.
Ladies and gentlemen…I’m gonna get a new car!!! Yay! ☺
posted by Jasmine at 3:57 PM
2 Comments:
hi my name is jasmine carless too.hay
I miss In-n-Out!
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