Own Writing

I remember that cold day in October three years ago as I walked down the endless

rows of new and used cars. I was oblivious to the sounds of the congested

afternoon traffic around me. All that was on my mind was anticipation, a little

hope, and a checkbook in my pocket that seemed to weigh so heavy despite the

lack of funds it represented. It was only a matter of time before one of the

salesmen would notice me wandering aimlessly through the car lot and eagerly

approach me. In the meantime I continued to inspect each car carefully. I felt

like a child in a toy store who wanted the most expensive toy but only had a

handful of change. I was lost in the moment when I heard, ?Can I help you with

something?? I had been waiting to hear those words for what seemed like an

eternity and now I could finally get down to business. As we shook hands the

salesman introduced himself as David Burke. He was a stocky guy with a firm

handshake. There was no sign of desperation in his eyes which was a relief.

Remembering what my dad told me I substituted his face with a vision of someone

I hated most, but his smile that went from ear to ear seemed to swallow and

overpower that vision. He asked me what I was interested in and I immediately

led him in a beeline across the lot to the car that I desired. I ignored the

cries of the cars that I passed along the way and stopped at a white 1996 Acura

Integra. He was only briefly intrigued with the car that I had chosen before he

asked how much money I was able to use as a down payment. When I told him I only

had eleven hundred dollars, I could almost hear the mental laughter that was

coming from inside his mind. A few minutes later I was sitting in an office

sipping on a cup of stale coffee while David and another man were running

numbers through a computer. As I sat there and waited my anticipation

transformed into nervousness. I visualized myself driving home in that Integra

to help ease my mind. My nervousness ultimately became disappointment when David

returned to inform me that it would be impossible to finance the Integra. I was

young with almost no credit history but I still had to pretend to be surprised,

that it could not be possible, that there was some sort of mistake. He ignored

my denial and told me that there was another nice car that I might be interested

in, and that it was more or less in my price range. I reluctantly agreed to take

a look at this mystery car. When David drove the mystery car to the front of the

sales office I was immediately disgusted. It was a small, clumsy, and awkward

looking white 1995 Dodge Neon. What I hated most of all was that from a front

view the car was designed to look like it was smiling at you. A smile that was

almost as big as the one on David?s face when he stepped out of the vehicle.

Maybe it was the eagerness or the impatience that I brought along that day, but

an hour later I found myself on the interstate driving that 1995 Dodge Neon. It

was not the Integra that I had been longing for, but for that one day, I was

proud to claim it as my very own car.