We were downtown in Tacoma, Washington on South Tacoma Way. It was basically the whole gang. When I say it was the whole gang, I mean it was my wife, my daughter, my father-in-law, and me. We were looking for a car for my father-in-law. My criteria were that the car had to run, it had to cost less than $1000, it had to be roadworthy to the point where it required no major maintenance, and it had to be in reasonably decent shape. We had found a couple of prospects so far. The first was a blue 1968 Chevrolet Impala. The dealer was asking $1000 for the car. The only problem I had found with it was that the paint had some flaking damage due to the Mount Saint Helens eruption in 1980. I took it on a lengthy test drive and found no problems with the drivetrain. I told the sales guy that I might be back. I didn’t think he had any customers looking at the car other than me for a couple of reasons. First, the car was basically an airplane without wings. It was huge. When I say it was huge, that car was enormous. It had four doors and a trunk that was big enough to put your house in. Now, that might be a slight exaggeration of the trunk size, but not by much. The trunk on that car was gigantic. It was as big as the bed of a pickup truck. You could get lost inside that trunk, and you could haul a lot of shit in the trunk of that car. The second reason that I didn’t think he had many customers for that car was that you could hear it drink the gas as you are driving down the road. I ain’t lying. That car was seriously drinking the gas. Glug. Glug. Glug. I thought I even heard it burp once. I didn’t even know that gas had carbonation. I knew that the exhaust from burning the gas produced hydrocarbons, but carbonation in the gas?!? Note to self: Write a letter to Exxon and ask if the gas is carbonated. The second car that I looked at was a brown 1964, Mercedes-Benz 220 S. That car was basically a fancy airplane without wings. The car ran pretty well, but it was an electrical nightmare. The electrical system would have to be completely redone if I purchased that car. The dealer was asking $1200, but I figured I had some wiggle room with the price. Even with the electrical problems, I still considered buying it simply because it was a luxury car. How many times in your life are you going to own a Mercedes-Benz? We went the entire length of South Tacoma Way stopping at all of the used car lots, but we did not find any other cars that met my specifications. I decided to go back to the first used car lot and make an offer on the Chevrolet Impala. Before we did that, though, we were going to stop to eat. My wife and my father-in-law made sure of that. So, we ducked into a restaurant and ate. When we were walking out of the restaurant, an old 1964 or 1965 Ford Fairlane was driving by headed north on South Tacoma Way. It had a for sale sign hanging in the rear window. My father-in-law noticed it first and ran out into the middle of the road and pointed at it. As he did that, the car backfired and left a huge black cloud in the air and dropped what seemed like a pound of pennies onto the pavement from the right rear corner of the trunk. At first, I thought the pennies were raining out of the muffler, which seemed odd. Then, the Fairlane backfired again. Again, another black cloud belched forth from the muffler. And another pound of pennies rained upon the pavement. My father-in-law immediately started scooping up pennies, and I ran out to join him. I looked at a couple of the pennies, and they weren’t ordinary pennies. They were the old Lincoln wheat back pennies. I said, “Shit! Grab as many as you can. These may be worth some money down the road.” When other people saw what we were doing, they all got in on the act. In a matter of a few minutes, all of the pennies were snatched up from the pavement. But not before my father-in-law and I managed to rake in a nice haul. That Fairlane had belched forth pennies like manna from the heavens or rain from the sky. I had never seen a Fairlane rain pennies before. I thought for sure we were on the right track. It was time to go buy a gas guzzling Chevrolet Impala. I told my wife to give me $800. She looked at me kind of funny and said, “The car guy said he wanted $1000.” I looked at her and said, “Well, that’s what he said. But that ain’t what I’m paying. I’m walking in there with $800 in my pocket. I’m going to offer him $800, and I’m going to tell him to take it or leave it. He’ll take it. Especially, after I point out why that car isn’t selling.” Then, we went back to that first used car lot. I walked in and found the sales guy that we had been talking with. I asked him, “How much did you say you wanted for that Chevrolet Impala?” He looked at me and replied, “I believe we are asking $1000.” “See, you aren’t going to get $1000 for that car. Here’s why. That car has got damage from the volcano eruption. I would say that the paint damage is extensive. And anybody that knows anything about autobody knows that. They will also know that that paint has to be stripped all the way down to bare metal. The metal has to be treated. Then, it has to be completely primed and repainted in order to look good. For that kind of work, you’re talking a good $3500-$4000. You know that and I know that and anybody that knows bodywork knows that.” “That car doesn’t have volcano damage.” “Oh yeah? How did the paint get damaged and pitted to where it’s flaking off? And by the pattern that that car has, only one type of environmental event could cause that type of damage. Fallout from acid rain from the atmosphere. Since there hasn’t been a nuclear reactor that blew up around here, but there has been a volcanic eruption at Mount Saint Helens, it’s a simple process of elimination to determine what caused the damage. Would you still like to insist that the volcano didn’t cause this damage?” “No, I guess not.” “I’ll tell you what, I have $800 in my pocket. I will give you $800 for that car right now. No questions asked. Do we have a deal?” “I’ll have to get that cleared with my manager.” “By all means. Get it cleared with your manager.” The sales guy came back a few minutes later and said we had a deal. We signed the papers, and I took ownership of the 1968 Chevrolet Impala. We had purchased a car for my father-in-law, and we had found some old pennies that rained from a Ford Fairlane. Our day had definitely not been just another exercise in futility.
by 
by 