Heart Pacer
If you’ve been selling cars for a while, I’m sure you’ve heard jokes about some old-timer having a heart attack in the booth when the sales person hit them with their trade value. It’s all a big laugh until the inevitable time it really happens.
I took a couple for a ride in a new Buick Regal. They were old folks and we got along great. She seemed really sharp, but I could tell he was in the throes of some serious health maladies, but he was a nice man. I knew on the test ride that I had a car deal to start the morning at the Buick Store. We got back to the store and we went to my booth to write it up.
I’d watched them drive in. They were driving an AMC Pacer that looked pretty nice, if there ever was a nice one. This was in the eighties so I’m sure the car was at least ten years old. The desk at my store started every trade at $100. In the write up, the man told me his car had thirty something thousand miles and proudly explained all he had done to it maintenance wise. The car was probably a 10 plus, but I knew they would still hit him at $100.
I went through my four square, (car talk for write up sheet) and they told me they were paying cash so I added it all up for them, turned the write up sheet around and writing upside down penciled in “Your Old Car, $100” and told them what the total would be. The story here would be perfect if Mr. had had an attack right then, but he didn’t.
We agreed to a figure they would write a check for and I took it to the desk. I had a deal, and a good one, but the desk always wanted more, (as they should and as I always do). They crossed out his offer and on the back of the sheet wrote in big green letters with a felt tip pen, the price full tilt, plus all the fees individually numbered and minus $100 for his old car for a total. Then Rosie wadded the paper up and tossed it to me and said, “Show em that!”
I used to love to unwrinkle a write up sheet on the desk in front of my people, so I did, very carefully, ironing it with my hand so they could read the writing. And he reached for his chest, let out a squeak and slumped over. She held him up so he didn’t fall and looked at me. I can remember the fear in her eyes. I called 911.
They never revived Mr. They got there quickly, but I think he was probably already dead. The Mrs, rode in the ambulance and I drove her car to the hospital so she would have it. When I went inside to give her the keys she told me he had died. I really didn’t know what to say, so I gave her a hug.
I felt badly for days after that and contemplated calling her, but didn’t. About two, maybe three weeks later she called me. She wanted to buy the car they had looked at if we still had it. We had one the same and she came in and bought it to start a day off at the Buick Store for me.
I don’t remember their names now. I do remember feeling like part of their family. She did drive the new car some, I saw her bring it in for service periodically for a while. The Pacer we bought for $100 was sold to a wholesaler and I presume he sold it to someone else or maybe he drove it. It had an AM FM radio.