I went car shopping and did something I’ve never done in my life. I pulled into a Chevrolet dealership. It’s been awhile since I bought American but feeling patriotic I thought I’d give it a go.
A heavily mustachioed promoter of the factory invoice came at me in a golf cart. His name was Manny; his office a shrine to the deal. A picture of Manny eating spaghetti with Dan Marino was framed on his wall. Another of Manny backstage with Bobby Goldsboro was propped on one side of his desk. The photo bookending the other side was Manny at the Yalta Conference … his right arm around Stalin; his left around Churchill. Directly behind him, inside a flashing neon casing, he’d bolted a plaque from the year 1999 advertising the dealership’s salesmen of the month. Beginning in January it chest-thumped: Manny, Manny, Manny, Manny, Twyla, Manny, Manny, Manny, Manny, Manny, Al, Manny.