In the towns, on the edges of the towns, in fields, in vacant lots, the used-car yards, the wreckers’ yards, the garages with blazoned signs—Used Cars, Good Used Cars.
Cheap transportation, three trailers. ’27 Ford, clean.
Checked cars, guaranteed cars.
Free radio.
Car with 100 gallons of gas free.
Come in and look.
Used Cars.
No overhead.
A lot and a house large enough for a desk and chair and a blue book.
Sheaf of contracts, dog-eared, held with paper clips, and a neat pile of unused contracts.
Pen—keep it full, keep it working.
A sale’s been lost ’cause a pen didn’t work.
Those sons-of-bitches over there ain’t buying.
Every yard gets ’em.
They’re lookers. Spend all their time looking.
Don’t want to buy no cars; take up your time. Don’t give a damn for your time.
Over there, them two people—no, with the kids.
Get ’em in a car.
Start ’em at two hundred and work down.
They look good for one and a quarter.
Get ’em rolling.
Get ’em out in a jalopy.
Sock it to ’em!
They took our time.
Owners with rolled-up sleeves.
Salesmen, neat, deadly, small intent eyes watching for weaknesses.
Watch the woman’s face.
If the woman likes it we can screw the old man.
Start’ em on that Cad’.
Then you can work ’em down to that ’ 26 Buick. ’F you start on the Buick, they’ll go for a Ford.
Roll up your sleeves an’ get to work.
This ain’t gonna last forever.
Show ’em that Nash while I get the slow leak pumped up on that ’ 25 Dodge.
I’ll give you a Hymie when I’m ready.
What you want is transportation, ain’t it?
No baloney for you.
Sure the upholstery is shot.
Seat cushions ain’t turning no wheels over.
Cars lined up, noses forward, rusty noses, flat tires.
Parked close together.
Like to get in to see that one?
Sure, no trouble.
I’ll pull her out of the line.
Get ’em under obligation.
Make ’em take up your time.
Don’t let ’em forget they’re takin’ your time.
People are nice, mostly.
They hate to put you out.
Make ’em put you out, an’ then sock it to ’em.
Cars lined up, Model T’s, high and snotty, creaking wheel, worn bands.