The Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck [61]
Flags, red and white, white and blue—all along the curb. Used Cars. Good Used Cars.
Today’s bargain—up on the platform. Never sell it. Makes folks come in, though. If we sold that bargain at that price we’d hardly make a dime. Tell ’em it’s jus’ sold. Take out that yard battery before you make delivery. Put in that dumb cell. Christ, what they want for six bits? Roll up your sleeves—pitch in. This ain’t gonna last. If I had enough jalopies I’d retire in six months.
Listen, Jim, I heard that Chevvy’s rear end. Sounds like bustin’ bottles. Squirt in a couple quarts of sawdust. Put some in the gears, too. We got to move that lemon for thirty-five dollars. Bastard cheated me on that one. I offer ten an’ he jerks me to fifteen, an’ then the son-of-a-bitch took the tools out. God Almighty! I wisht I had five hundred jalopies. This ain’t gonna last. He don’t like the tires? Tell ’im they got ten thousand in ’em, knock off a buck an’ a half.
Piles of rusty ruins against the fence, rows of wrecks in back, fenders, grease-black wrecks, blocks lying on the ground and a pig weed growing up through the cylinders. Brake rods, exhausts, piled like snakes. Grease, gasoline.
See if you can’t find a spark plug that ain’t cracked. Christ, if I had fifty trailers at under a hundred I’d clean up. What the hell is he kickin’ about? We sell ’em, but we don’t push ’em home for him. That’s good! Don’t push ’em home. Get that one in the Monthly, I bet. You don’t think he’s a prospect? Well, kick ’im out. We got too much to do to bother with a guy that can’t make up his mind. Take the right front tire off the Graham. Turn that mended side down. The rest looks swell. Got tread an’ everything.
Sure! There’s fifty thousan’ in that ol’ heap yet. Keep plenty oil in. So long. Good luck.
Lookin’ for a car? What did you have in mind? See anything attracts you? I’m dry. How about a little snort a good stuff? Come on, while your wife’s lookin’ at that La Salle. You don’t want no La Salle. Bearings shot. Uses too much oil. Got a Lincoln ’24. There’s a car. Run forever. Make her into a truck.
Hot sun on rusted metal. Oil on the ground. People are wandering in, bewildered, needing a car.
Wipe your feet. Don’t lean on that car, it’s dirty. How do you buy a car? What does it cost? Watch the children, now. I wonder how much for this one? We’ll ask. It don’t cost money to ask. We can ask, can’t we? Can’t pay a nickel over seventy-five, or there won’t be enough to get to California.
God, if I could only get a hundred jalopies. I don’t care if they run or not.
Tires, used, bruised tires, stacked in tall cylinders; tubes, red, gray, hanging like sausages.
Tire patch? Radiator cleaner? Spark intensifier? Drop this little pill in your gas tank and get ten extra miles to the gallon. Just paint it on—you got a new surface for fifty cents. Wipers, fan belts, gaskets? Maybe it’s the valve. Get a new valve stem. What can you lose for a nickel?
All right, Joe. You soften ’em up an’ shoot ’em in here. I’ll close ’em, I’ll deal ’em or I’ll kill ’em. Don’t send in no bums. I want deals.
Yes, sir, step in. You got a buy there. Yes, sir! At eighty bucks you got a buy.
I can’t go no higher than fifty. The fella outside says fifty.
Fifty. Fifty? He’s nuts. Paid seventy-eight fifty for that little number. Joe, you crazy fool, you tryin’ to bust us? Have to can that guy. I might take sixty. Now look here, mister, I ain’t got all day. I’m a business man but I ain’t out to stick nobody. Got anything to trade?
Got a pair of mules I’ll trade.
Mules! Hey, Joe, hear this? This guy wants to trade mules. Didn’t nobody tell you this is the machine age? They don’t use mules for nothing but glue no more.
Fine big mules—five and seven years old. Maybe we better look around.
Look around! You come in when we’re busy, an’ take up our time an’ then walk out! Joe, did you know you was talkin’ to pikers?
I ain’t a piker. I got to get a car. We