1990 Ornellaia

Needing a car, I was unfortunately obligated to visit a car dealership. We were walking around the parking lot looking at all the available models and getting an idea of prices. A salesman, errr, sorry, a “customer counselor” approached us with a swagger, bedecked in a very expensive, perfectly tailored suit. Fresh manicure, hair gelled together in a single-polymer Southern televangelist helmet, pinky ring flashing. Million Dollar club pin. “Son,” he said, flashing some damned expensive peroxide-whitened caps, “here at Savage Motors, we don’t sell cars. Nossiree! We sell value! So what are you looking for in a monthly payment?”

SY (5/02)