No milk in the house? Send the Heathen.
Need gas in your car and the weather really sucks because the temperatures are 20 below zero? Send the Heathen.
Later in the evening and craving something from Sheetz? Send the Heathen.
Discover you have no cash in the house and discover you need cash for someone first thing in the morning? Don't feel like running out to the ATM? Send the Heathen.
The Asst. Zookeeper and I have actually laid in bed watching TV and tried to think of stupid errands to send him on - just for the power trip and the training of, "You may have a driver's license, but we are still the gods of your world." So far, it has gone well!
His first vehicle (only "his" in the sense that he drove it, not owned it) was a small truck. Chevy S10. It lost a battle with a deer fairly early in its career through no fault of the Heathen. He sold the S10 and replaced it with this monstrosity.
In his defense, when he purchased it, it was painted flat black. We discovered the stars and stripes UNDER the flat black the previous owner had put on it. And to make it even better, the tailgate had "MURICA" on it.
Heathen #1 happily got this truck running with some elbow grease and a few trips to get parts. Then it overheated - and hasn't been the same since. As he travels quite a bit, the Asst. Zookeeper and I decided that a more reliable vehicle was needed and purchased an older Jeep Wrangler.
Now this truck now sits in our yard and the Heathen has been attempting to sell it online. A few little nibbles have come in, but no bites.
TODAY, HE GOT A BITE.
Three Latino gentlemen arrived in a white box van. Strange to me, but, whatever. I will admit to being a bad person and calling the Asst. Zookeeper's phone to make a snide comment that we had a box van show up in our yard and that the illegal immigrants were here to look at the truck. It was their van that threw me. It was the stereotypical van used in movies where the back door slides up and hundreds of people are stuffed inside.
I stayed in the house and watched through the front window as the three men spoke with my son, inspected the vehicle, walked around it, etc. Everything guys do when looking at a vehicle. Seemed very friendly. No red flags going up at this point.
Heathen #1 comes into the house and announces that he needs the title - the guys are going to take the truck. At which point, I explained to him (again) that the title is in his father's name and his father is at work. We would have to make arrangements to meet at a notary later and they could take possession of the truck at that time. Here's what came out of my child's mouth:
"He said he just needs the title. They are shipping it out of the country. No signature needed."
AND RED FLAG GOES UP!
So I stepped outside my front door in all my Saturday morning glory, with coffee cup in hand. I probably looked slightly better than this, just swap out the tank top for a hooded sweatshirt big enough for my husband:
I explained the issue of the title transfer. The one gentleman told me this wasn't an issue as they were shipping it out of the country and they just need the title in hand, it didn't need to be signed. I explained that I have never purchased or sold a vehicle without a title transfer and that it sounded very strange to me. He explained that because they were shipping it out of the country, they didn't want to pay taxes on it here.
RED FLAG!
I smiled (nicely - as there are three of them and JUST ME), and explained that I needed to call my husband first to verify this as it is his name on the title.
Guess whose husband was underground? So I called my father-in-law. I knew he was going to tell me what I already knew, but I felt the need to verify it.
He answered the phone and I explained that I had three Latinos in my driveway that wanted to pay cash for Tristan's truck but didn't want to transfer the title. They just wanted me to hand it to them and they were going to leave. He verified what I already knew - RED FLAG!
So I went BACK out my front door to explain that the men were welcome to come back when the title could be properly transferred, but that I was not willing to just hand over the title. I explained that if they drove down the rode with it and hit someone, we would still be responsible for it. The guy said, "Oh, we not gonna drive it. We gonna chain it to the van and tow it."
Suddenly, three gentlemen that had been conversing solely in ENGLISH, switched to rapid Spanish and there was a lot a chatter among them. While I understand that it is easier to converse in your native language, they had not until this point. And it made me nervous. They were obviously not happy with my decision simply based on their facial expressions and the amount of hand waving taking place.
RED FLAG!!!
The gentlemen all got back into their van and left.
I have proof! And the license plate was from Maryland. We copied it onto the whiteboard in the kitchen, just to be sure. Sorry for the screen in the photos. I was weird-ed out enough at that point that we went into the house and locked all the doors.
So, from the whole experience, I have unanswered questions?
1. Who drives from Maryland to look at this crap truck?
2. Who would pay to SHIP that crap truck ANYWHERE?
3. And, because I am basically a bad person, where they planning on shipping DRUGS or a DEAD BODY in that truck that they didn't want to transfer that title?
4. Why do these things happen at the ZOO?
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