Pete vs Tony: the Ultimate Show Down

When dropping my car off at the mechanic yesterday, I let the man know that yes, I do know that the door handles are broken on my car and I am also aware that there is crayon melted into most of the seats and I don’t care to have those things fixed. Those things are small potatoes. My last car didn’t have brakes. Or seatbelts. Broken door handles I can live with. Literally.

This current car was bought under the auspicious advice of my former husband, Pete, who as fate would have it also recommended the aforementioned death trap. He found this car in a tiny lot in a seedy neighborhood. He insisted that *this* one was a good one. Not a lemon like the last.

We test drove it. Well, he test drove it. I was still suffering from driving related PTSD. He assured me that this was a good car. I laid down my cash Dave Ramsey style and drove away. Two days later, the check engine light came on.

After finding out it was the catalytic converter, we paid a visit to the salesman. He reminded us very firmly that we had signed an ‘as is’ sales agreement. ‘But you knew it was bad when you sold it to us, Tony’ and ‘I could get all my kids to picket your business’ pressed Pete. The salesman would not relent. ‘I know bad people, Tony. People who have nothing left to lose,’ hedged Pete. The seedy car salesman picked up his cell phone, “I know people too, Pete.”

This was clearly getting us know where. I was coming in to full panic mode. I would have gladly paid to have the part replaced myself at this point just to end the tension in the room. After a long silence, Pete ventured again. ‘I could put this all over Facebook’. Tony replied horrified, ‘why you gotta do my like that man… that #&(%s me?! Fine I’ll pay to get it replaced.’

Then Pete said some kind of blessing over him. They exchanged niceties about places of worship. Pete later went back and fixed his computer. And why shouldn’t they be friends? They speak the same language.

And he did get my catalytic converter fixed that week. And yesterday, on year later I was paying to have it replaced with parts that fit, natch.