Daily Prompt: The Prevost and Me

“I passed! Now let’s get outta here!” We jumped in the car and floured it over to the dealership, where we both flashed our ink-barely-dry non-commercial Class A licenses; we could have gotten the non-commercial Class B but why not go all the way?

“Can I help you all?” We cut our eyes at each other, noting the undertone in the the salesman’s voice, which suggested that he was not too happy to see us walk in. I bet they were watching when we pulled in and took straws to decide who would come out here, I said as we both snickered behind our hands.

“Yes–can you show us what you’ve got along the lines of full-size Prevost’s please?” I asked in my most pleasant voice. I thought Joey, our reluctant salesman, was going to leave the bottom half of his jaw on the floor. We soon had an audience of other salespeople behind us as he walked us out to the back 40; there were some of the most beautiful mobile homes we’d ever seen there. After settling on a dark blue number, we each took a turn behind the wheel. It had everything we could ever need, even a tow bar already installed. After a bit of haggling, Joey seemed ready to kick us out, at which point I piped up again. “If you throw in one of those towed vehicle windshield covers for free, I’ll buy this right now. Joey gagged and whistled for his manager; it was all he could do as words had failed him behind a thinly disguised shield of mirth.

I could smell the manager’s armpits as he threw a paw on each of our shoulders. “Come with me and let’s talk some numbers,” he smiled.

Stan’s smile slipped a bit when I gave him the numbers that Joey had written down (always get it in writing my dad said, and he was right) and my debit card. “Do you do debit here? I want to pay for it now.” Joey shrugged as Stan turned back to me; I guess his mirth had taken a vacation when my actions matched my words.

Stan’s lower jaw joined Joey’s on the floor. “The whole thing?”

“Is that a problem?”

“N-n-no,” Stan’s hands glistened with sweat as he swiped my card in the machine he kept in his top drawer. I could feel him breathing on my hand as he leaned in closely to watch me sign.

“Can I have the keys now? Oh, and can somebody show us how to hook our car to this thing?” We looked like a circus act: my husband was ringmaster, I was the lead caller, and all of the shocked salesfloor staff–including Stan and Joey–brought up the rear like a troupe of clowns. They stood amazed as I pulled sheets and pillows from the back of the car to make up the king-sized bed in the back of the RV, towels and wash cloths for the bathrroom, and filled the refrigerator with our perishables. Once the car (with its new windshield protector) was hooked on, I made sure to wave wildly as my husband pulled out of the lot. “We have to think of a name, you know,” I reminded him as we headed east. He was thrilled with our new toy and probably wouldn’t get tired for another 2,000 miles or so. I figured I’d have a good name picked out by then.

The Daily Post pixies asked this fabulous question today:

You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, or car? (Or something else entirely — bike? Hot air balloon?)

We’ve already flown and driven across country (my dear Christopher has driven across THREE times–twice round trip and once one-way. Lucky…), but when we get our gazillion-trillion dollars, we are going to the RV lot to buy a Prevost, in which we will tour the country, annoying all passersby with our beautiful vehicle. And if we have a gazillion-trillion dollars anyway, I might just splurge for the matching closed trailer in which to tow our car, rather than simply pulling it along behind like a wayward child. And there you have it.

And…we’re out.

(13) Comments

    1. 😀 I’m sure I’ll figure a way to share the info, like a country-wide tour to promote my book, since with a gazillion-trillion dollars I’d be able to just take off and write! Oh, and we’ll be the ones in the big blue Prevost with matching trailer 😉

  1. I want one…NOW! That was some nice vivid writing, especially the bit about the smell the manager’s armpits and the Stan’s hands glistened with sweat Now that is what I call a good example of “show don’t tell” 🙂

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