The Mustang Mission...

 

Dear Readers,

I’d always dreamed of owning a Ford Mustang a sleek red one, the kind that makes people think, Wow, that guy has his life together.

Spoiler: I do not.

When I finally decided to take the plunge, I walked into the dealership feeling confident. Well, sort of. I had just Googled “How to negotiate like a pro” in the parking lot. Armed with phrases like “I’m looking for the best value” and “What’s the out-the-door price?” I was ready to make my move.

The moment I stepped inside, the sales guy, Chad because of course his name was Chad spotted me. He had the grin of someone who had just smelled commission.

“Looking for something special today?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, trying to sound cool. “I’m here for the Red Mustang.”

“Oh, excellent choice!” Chad exclaimed, leading me to the car like it was the car from Fast & Furious.

The car was stunning. Glossy red, perfect curves, and the kind of roar that made you forget you’d been living off instant noodles for a month. I nodded solemnly, pretending I wasn’t already imagining myself driving it with sunglasses on, the wind blowing through my hair as it is I’m bald Hehe.

“So, what do you think Sir?” Chad asked, leaning casually on the hood like we were in a toothpaste commercial.

“I love it,” I blurted. Rookie mistake. Never let them know you’re in love with the car.

Chad grinned wider. “Let’s talk numbers.”

And that’s when it all fell apart.

Chad presented me with a price that made me question every financial decision I’d ever made. I attempted to counter, mumbling something about monthly payments. But instead of lowering the price, Chad offered to throw in floor mats. Floor mats! As if my heart would leap at the thought of carpeted rectangles.

I decided to play hardball. “I saw online that there’s a discount for first-time buyers.”

Chad’s smile faltered. “That’s… not for this model.”

“Okay, but what about the loyalty discount?”

“Have you owned a Ford before?”

“No, but I’m loyal to the idea of owning one.”

At this point, I could see Chad weighing the effort of arguing versus the chance of me actually affording this car. I stood my ground, arms crossed, while silently calculating how many organs I’d need to sell to make this work.

Finally, after a lot of back and forth, Chad sighed and said, “Let me talk to my manager.”

I waited, feeling victorious. Five minutes later, Chad returned with the manager, who looked suspiciously like Chad with glasses.

“Here’s the best we can do,” he said, offering a number slightly lower but still terrifying.

“That’s great,” I said, “but can you make it… Mustang-affordable?”

“What does that mean?”

“Affordable for me, specifically.”

They didn’t budge. I left the dealership with no Mustang but a newfound appreciation for my current car, which may rattle like a tin can but doesn’t come with a soul-crushing loan.

As I drove home, I spotted a red Mustang at a stoplight. The driver revved the engine, and for a moment, I felt a pang of jealousy. Then I saw his face in pure panic as his kid threw a juice box at the windshield.

Turns out, I’m fine with my tin can. For now.

Anyway, until next time I hope that car waits for me… Vroom mm…

Jacob M