The Case Of The Elusive Car Salesman :: essays research papers

     I was pacing around Lexington, waiting for my local mechanical to finish thelatest repairs on my 77 Chevy Impala. My names Yesterday, Sam Yesterday.It was importunate in Lexington, by that is not uncommon for mid-July. Id had agood several(prenominal) months, and I was in good financial position for the first gondolatridge holdersince I bought that Impala back in 1977. That car had served me well, butlately it had been failing. Maybe it was time for a trade, I thought so Iwalked over to the nearest friendly (sort of) car dealership.     As soon as I set foot on the shiny showroom floor, it seized me. It was the roughly beautiful thing I had ever seen. A sparkling conclave of steel,leather, electronics, and a very large railway locomotive. The muscle car had beenrevitalized in the form of a 1995 Chevy Impala SS. It was sleek, resemblingthe type of car Darth Vader would drive. I grabbed the nearest salesman,hopped into the body hugging leather bucket, fired up the 275 bhp. LT1 engineand took off. As the 6-speaker CD stereo belted out Aerosmith the poorsalesman seek to sell me a car that had already sold itself. I had locomote inlove, it was the only car that I had loved since that 77 Impala. It had anengine large enough to satisfy my primitive need for power, an image thatscreamed "Hey you with the radio detection and ranging gun See if you can catch me" Granted, itwas heavy, it had watery boat- worry handling, and drank gas like my UncleBubba drinks beer. Still, I loved it. It wasnt Japanese, German, Korean, orotherwise. It was a big hunk of purebred, American muscle car, dammit.     I picked out a nice shiny unexampled one, called the bank and drove home in my newwheels. I trenchant to spring for all the bells and whistles leather, CDplayer, alarm system, keyless entry, etc. I figured that if this car wasgoing to run as long as my last Impala it should be well-equipped. &nb sp   As I was admiring the view from my big businessman in the Financial Center, the phonerang. I answered and was greeted by a preferably hysterical woman named Dianewho thought that she had been cheated by her car dealership.     "That evil cable car salesman has kidnaped my car" she explained.     I calmed her down and asked what happened.     "Well, Larry, the salesman, picked up my Lexus for servicing, just as usual.to a fault as usual, he left a more expensive car as a loaner. Later in the day,