“Hal Holstregren. Damn glad to meet ya,” the somewhat burly salesman said as he walked up to his first customer of the morning. 

The air was crisp in Odessa. The wind was light so the whiff of the oil patch outside town was barely noticeable. Hank had driven from Fort Stockton to shop for a new Lincoln, his first purchase since he got the big promotion. Shaking hands with Hal, Hank felt like he’d just grabbed a fistful of moist Vienna sausages. Yet, Hal instilled a sense of experience that was appreciated by someone making a six-thousand-dollar purchase.

“You got a trade?” Hal asked. Hank nodded over his left shoulder towards the ’61 Ford Galaxie sedan, embarrassed at what he’d driven up from Fort Stockton. It looked so old and dated amongst the Lincolns. Hal knew immediately he’d be making money off the new Lincoln, not the trade-in. “First luxury automobile then, huh Hank?”

“Just got a promotion. Finally ready to move up,” Hank admitted. You could hardly tell by the tone in his voice just how long he’d waited for this moment. A Lincoln-freaking-Continental. The car of presidents and popes. He’d never tell Madge, of course, but he was more excited for this day than the day they got married.

“Not a better choice in the fine car field. But then you already knew that or you wouldn’t be here, would ya?” Hal didn’t wait for an answer. “This unit’s probably the prettiest in the whole lot. Diamond Green is what they call that color. So damn subtle it doesn’t even look green in some light. But it shows you’ve got plenty of green where it counts, in the ol’ bank account!” Hal slapped Hank on the back to drive home the point that they’d bonded as he opened the driver’s door so Hal could peer inside for the very first time.

“Adjustable contour front seats. Feel that cloth.” Hal said. Hank reached in as though he was experiencing the inner sanctum of a ritual few mortals would ever participate in. Hal dropped his voice to a whisper. “That fabric is softer than your high school girlfriend’s unmentionables!” Hal had a way with words that made Hank even more excited about his purchase and brought back memories of Madge’s best friend from high school.

“Look at that dash. Clamshell design. Puts you in control of the entire driving experience, just like God intended. From temperature to tunes, you’re in command,” Hal said. “Over there in front of the missus? Just a clock, so she can bide her time.”

Hal hadn’t been completely sold on the Diamond Green, but being in command behind that dash made the exterior color almost irrelevant. That, and Madge biding her time from the passenger seat.

“Speaking of clamshell design,” Hal said, backing away from the Lincoln for a better view, “how ‘bout them back doors? Nothing else like ‘em in the fine car field. Or any other field, for that matter. Says ‘class’ every time the in-laws crawl into the backseat. Tells ‘em they never should’ve doubted you!”

Struck some kind of nerve with Hank. Madge’s folks had always looked down their nose, and her old man never drove anything better than a Pontiac. He was already thinking about the first time they’d pick up her parents in the new Continental and take ‘em to dinner at K-Bob’s. The top dollar amount he had in mind that he’d pay for a new car just went up by four hundred bucks.

It went up twice again that much by the time they’d signed the papers in Hal’s office.