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It happened pretty quickly

It happened pretty quickly.

First Derek said to me, “I liked those kids’ convertible last night. You want to get a convertible?”

“No,” I said loudly.

Derek ignored me. “I want a convertible. Show me the best convertible you’ve got on the lot,” he said.

The salesman – who, after he got over the worst of being star-struck, introduced himself as Tad – showed it to us.

It was absolutely gorgeous.

I about choked on the price tag, though: $78,000.

But Derek saw something else a few rows away, and walked over to check it out.

It was a beautiful little retro convertible with rounded lines and powder blue paint. Perfect condition.

“Oh yeah – sorry, I forgot about that one. 1969 Mercedes convertible,” the guy said. “We just got it yesterday – guy got divorced, had to sell it and get a cheaper car to pay off his lawyer. My heart broke for him when he gave me the keys, man.”

“I’ll take it,” Derek said.

“Don’t you want to know how much it is?” I asked, my mouth agape. There wasn’t even a ‘For Sa
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