For sale: One white pickup truck

Monday night I returned home from work to see a rain-soaked flier in bold lettering underneath my windshield wiper.

“WARNING!” it read.

A flip of the paper revealed a message from a Diamond Parking officer saying if I didn’t move my car within three days it would kindly be impounded.

Ah, the life of a used car salesman.

Since I took out an ad in a few local papers and started parking my Nissan pickup around town with the sign “For Sale,” in the front window a week ago, I have gotten about as many tow threats as I have gotten rings from potential buyers.

I remember the first call I got on it.

It was only two hours after I parked it in the lot in front of K-Mart in East Bremerton.

Oh, what a surprise — it was an employee from Rite Aid next door saying I had 24 hours to move it.

Although it only took about a week to sell, my pickup gave me a chance to meet new people from Fife to Port Orchard, Seattle to Portland.

I learned how to handle rejection with ease. How to let go and forgive.

People just didn’t know what they were missing, I said to myself.

The first few days I got about five calls, but only one person wanted to test drive it. A couple people complained about the color — white.

Some people complained it is was not a V-6. (It’s only a four-barrel).

One person said he wanted to buy it with cash — he just wanted me to drive to Portland right after work. I called him back but he didn’t answer.

A cruel trick, I said to myself.

One guy said the two fold-out seats in the back just weren’t safe enough for his kids.


Another one told me what his mechanic said — “watch out for those Nissans — a timing belt plus labor will cost you about $700.”

What a load of baloney, I said to myself.

As the days progressed, I begun to develop the salesman lingo while fielding phone calls — “must sell,” “like new,” “you’ve got to see this baby.” You know, those kind of phrases.

My friends said I was asking too much.

They just don’t know how much I paid for it.

Right after work one day, I went over to the Kitsap Regional Library and signed up on eBay to sell my truck. I didn’t finish the process before my hour time limit ran out.

Such luck, such luck.

The next day I got a call from a man from Fife.

“My brother wants to buy your truck,” he said, cell phone crackling slightly.

I’d heard that before.

“He can pay cash.”

That’s what everybody says.

“We can come look at in a half hour.”


An hour later I had a new wad of cash in my pocket and one less automobile for the Diamond Parking officials to ticket.

Ah, success.

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