I readily agreed and switched places. I eased off the clutch and started to drive. I was amazed by how it felt to be behind the wheel again. I missed driving. It must have been because it was my dream car, but everything felt right with the world. The little car did well. I didn’t try to see how fast it would go. I knew in its original state, the top speed was listed at 100 MPH, but it got up to speed quickly without shakes, rattles, or rolls. The brakes were adequate for the age of the car.Overall, I was impressed, but not $5,500 impressed. We switched places, and Mr. James drove us back to the lot. We got back, and I took control of the negotiations. I offered $3,800, which was the original sales price when the vehicle was new. He countered with $5,000. I told him I would be paying cash I was not going to pay a penny over $4,000. If he wanted a sale today, he’d better start dealing, or I’d leave. Things got serious after a little more back and forth, and when he heard cash. We. The night had started as normal. Emma and I were just two in a mixed group of about a dozen who went out for a drink after work on Friday nights. We had a few early drinks at a pub near the university that was dodgy even by local standards, then left before its clientele got too drunk. We ate at a cheap kebab shop, then carried on though to a louder pub that let you get cheaply boozed up before the night clubs. I talked to several people, but somehow it was always Emma I ended up talking with.In a group of clever people, Emma stood out as clever. When she wanted to be a modern bluestocking –conversation about econometrics, baggy clothes, metal rimmed glasses with small circular lenses - she could be. But there was also something sensual about her. She had an attractive face without trying to be attractive, and a shape that most heterosexual men think feminine: curves full breasts and a bottom you imagine handling. She also had a great sense of humour and was happy to talk about.
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