THE WHEELS KEPT TURNING

Mr. Wonderful felt a slight nuance of buyer’s angst when he left the dealership last December 24, driving home an inky-chestnut-hued Audi A6 3.OT Competition Prestige sedan to replace his weary navy blue Honda mini-van. (And let’s not forget: the man still harbors his third grade lunch money.)

But what a Christmas present it was, with 340 hp pickup, dusk-dimming headlamps, Bose speakers and luxurious “real leathah” seats. However, even though something went beep-beep-beep when the car sensed a moose trotting out of the Maine woods right into the headlights, at 84 and with encroaching vision issues, Mr. W. decided the Audi was “more car than I need.” 

Enter friend Marty, 86, New York City resident and husband of my treasured college pal Ellen. 

A few weeks ago they came for a visit, during which we took the Manhattanites on a foliage tour in our Audi. “This is a beautiful car,” Ellen said. Facetiously, I asked, “Wanna buy it?” After returning to the Big Apple in their 2013 pearl-colored Lincoln MKS, they emailed and said, “We’d like  to buy it!” Truly, who knew?

Wheels immediately started turning in Mr. Wonderful’s head. “I’ve always wanted just a small car to drive back and forth to Webhannet for golf,” he said. Within hours of combing the web, he located a silver PTCruiser convertible, born in 2006, waiting for adoption in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, a hefty eight hour’s drive from our home in the Wells woods.  But the owner wouldn’t ship it.

Enter 81-year-old Robin who lives 50 miles north of New York City. “Sister-in-law dear, I have a proposition for you,” Bob said, asking if she and partner Shirley would mind driving to Harrisburg, pick up his car, then turn around and drive the Cruiser to Maine. (For some reason, the Aunties LOVE this type of errand, especially when financially underwritten for meals/gas/overnight/incidentals by Mr. Third Grade Lunch Money.)

After completing negotiations in Harrisburg, Robin drove the PTCruiser to Maine and collapsed in an exhausted heap for a few days of R&R. Bob couldn’t wait to take the new car for a spin. Alas, he pushed the wrong button and immediately locked his phone and both sets of keys inside the Cruiser.

AAA arrived to unlock the car. Cocktails were poured. We settled in by the roaring fire in the living room. Then sister Robin confessed, “I’m quite concerned about my Acura. It’s a 2001, with 235,000 miles, and only a scratch or two — somebody keyed it near my ‘Elect Hilary’ patch on the right rear end. Plus, it’s developed a death rattle that my mechanic thinks is terminal.” 

“Robin, I have an idea,” Bob said. “How would you like a loaded 2013 Lincoln?”  “Tell me more,” she replied.

Meanwhile, deep in the caverns of New York City, Marty found that dealing with the Department of Motor Vehicles, during COVID, to register a new car that would be in his wife Ellen’s name, was even trickier because her driver’s license had expired. Ultimately, after numerous phone calls (“Estimated wait time is 47 minutes….”), Marty got the correct form signed, sealed and delivered. The Audi could be theirs. But … it was still in Maine.

Bob had an idea. “Marty,” he emailed, “Val’s sister Robin has a clunker of an old Acura and might be interested in your Lincoln. But I have to be honest — she’s notoriously tight with the $$$. Maybe you could work something out with her because she’s driving your future Audi to her home, which is only a few miles upstate from you, for you to pick up.”

The deal was convincingly cinched when Robin attempted to interest a buyer in her Acura.  She told us, “A dealer said he’d give me $250. Kars for Kids won’t touch it. The  radio hasn’t worked for years. What’s Marty’s price?"

On a crisp autumn day earlier this week, Ellen and Marty delivered “Linc” to Central Valley, New York, for lunch, a mechanical inspection, a handshake. Then off they went to New York City in the Audi, leaving the creampuff Lincoln in Robin’s driveway.

Conclusion, and it’s all good: Mr. Wonderful feels like a stud-muffin when he drives the PT Cruiser, top down, heat blasting, along Kennebunk Beach. Robin has baptized her new car “Pearl” and asserts that her last car is a precious gem. Manhattanites Ellen and Marty are savoring the sleek Audi and finding it a piece of Sara Lee (Marty’s favorite cake) although, admittedly, they will always miss “Linc."

Eat your heart out, Carvana!