True Story

A few years back my wife and I decided we'd sell our second car. We really weren't using it as we were living in the parish-house and I was walking the entire 45 feet to my office. So we ran an ad in the local "Auto-Trader" magazine. It was a 7 year old Ford and was in pretty decent shape (OK, the air conditioning did not work) and we were asking what the Kelly Blue Book said would be trade-in value. Good car - good deal.

I got a call from a guy who said that he was interested in looking at the car. I started to give him directions, but he told me that he and his family only had one car and he asked if I'd drive it to where he lived to see it. I was a little uncomfortable with the idea, but the address he gave me wasn't in a bad part of town, so I agreed.

Getting to the address I found myself in front of an older brick house that had been "converted" into a shop or store of some kind, but there were curtains over the front plate glass windows. I knocked and a bedraggled looking man in his late 40's and a cheap suit answered the door. Looking over his shoulder I could see a mattress on the floor in one corner of the "store" area and a bunch of folding chairs. He introduced himself as "Brother Tom." I offered my hand and just my first name.

He came out and walked around the car and spent some time looking under the hood and in the trunk while literally kicking the tires as he walked around it. We went on a little drive around the neighborhood - him in the driver's seat and me taking the shotgun position. He'd driven around long enough that I was starting to get annoyed when he took a couple of quick rights and we were back in the shop's parking area.

"Real nice," he told me.
"I'm asking $4,000 which I think is pretty fair."
"You may have noticed that I'm a minister," he said, puffing up his chest as we both stepped out of the Ford, "have you ever considered donating your car to the church?"
"Which 'church' would that be?"
"Well, my church here," he said with a sweep of his hand and pointing toward the shop.
"Uh, no. I was thinking more legal tender and less tax right-off."

At this point he stood up very tall and looking down at me in a stern voice said, "Now, that 'No' is the devil talking!"

Usually I think of the 'quick' comeback well after it's useful - like a week or two later over lunch. But this time the right answer just popped into my head.

"Let me ask you this," I said standing as tall as my 5'6" will allow, "where do you think the devil is working: in the honest guy trying to sell his car for a fair price, or the pretend minister trying to steal it from him?"

As he fumbled for a comeback I jumped into the Ford and drove off. Never did tell him I was a minister... he'd probably have wanted a fraternal discount.

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