Every nickname has a story, right? Well here’s Scooter’s story.
As I rounded the corner in my wife’s silver, fully loaded Nisan 350Z a strange phenomenon began to occur. In hindsight, I wonder if the car had magnetic qualities. I pulled into the lot of a car dealership and you’d think that a wildebeest had strayed away from the herd on the Sahara. I think the Saharan desert analogy fits best for what goes on at car dealerships. Hungry, food-deprived lions (ever wonder why all the salesmen at dealerships are men) wait for “ups” (folks who pull up) ready to pounce on any unsuspecting, lost, or lonely prey. “Daniel” reached me first. He had dibs. I proceeded to tell him I was “just looking” and possibly looking to trade in the Z for some kind of sedan. A trade-in? Drop top? Two-seater? Daniel realized that he was in over his head. This required the heavy hitters. You can’t miss out on this sale. He talked me up for a few minutes and had the lot manager paged. Word got around about the potential trade-in and at least 8 or 9 salesmen did a walk around on the car. The lot manager came out. He had slicked back hair, long sleeve shirt and tie (in 90 degree weather? “Child Please”). He was ready to “give me a deal”. Little did he know, I had done my research. He wasn’t dealing with just any wildebeest. This one was ready for a fight.
Never Show Your Hand