Share Your Toys, Timothy!

"I love the colour," Abbey said with a big grin.

"Now, down to the details," Tim addressed the form on his tablet to start filling in the price figures. "It's not a new car, we are not a Mini dealer. This came in as a part-exchange this weekend for someone trading up to one of our Range Rovers. Nothing suspect about the sale, a couple just got married and traded in their two smaller cars and drove away with one family-size car."

"How old is it?" Jenny asked.

"Eleven months old and has just over 8000 miles on the clock, so it is only just broken in, guaranteed by the original warranty for another two years and should give three or four years absolutely trouble-free motoring and, if regularly serviced, should still be easily traded in at a reasonable price for your next car."

"How much?" Jenny asked.

He grinned, "It's about £70,000 cheaper than the Jag!"

Jenny matched his smile with one guaranteed to make any man melt as he tore away his eyes and typed in the figures for the base price of the car and the extras and turned the tablet round for the girls to see the figures. He pointed to the breakdown figures with the tip of his pen.

"That's the base price, plus the cost of twelve months' road tax, a full tank of petrol, service costs for the next two years and a set of rubber mats to put in and protect the carpets during the winter months."

They could see the final price, which was very reasonable, broken into two figures, the deposit and balance payable.

They looked at each other and Jenny nodded, almost imperceptibly, before Abbey turned back to him and squealed, "I'll take it!" giving him both devastating dimples. "Can I drive it home today?"

"No," he said gently, with his own disarming smile, which had always worked well for him in the past, "We have a few formalities to go through first. The car only came into us this morning after a part-exchange sale arranged at the weekend, which is why it was in the workshop earlier and not out on the lot. I got the guys to give the outside a quick wash while we were out test-driving the Jag, but it needs a little more work and a proper polish. We need to give it a complete mechanical service and valet throughout, arrange for the transfer of ownership and purchase the road fund licence for the next year as there is less than a month left on the old one. Also you need to sort out your motor insurance, and we need to go through the payment terms. You can pick it up first thing the day after tomorrow if you can bring in an insurance certificate tomorrow by lunchtime."

Tim looked at Jenny, "How do you want to pay? I need a small deposit now and the balance when you collect the car. Do you need finance arranged?" He thought it was an unnecessary question, but he had to ask.

Jenny shook her head, "Credit card OK?"

Tim nodded, "That'll do nicely." They all smiled. "Right, I'll print out all these papers, we'll go and look over the car again for any knocks or scrapes that need correcting and then we can sign the paperwork and relieve you of your deposit."

"I'll call your father," Jenny said to Abbey, as the three walked towards the door, "He wanted to see what you ended up with."

She turned to Tim as she pressed the speed dial on her phone and put it up to her ear, "It won't affect your sale, Tim, he will arrange the insurance and simply wanted to see it before - Oh, hi Hon ... Yes ... a Mini ... Nice ... Safe, bright yellow, very bright ... Mmmm ... Yes ... Now? OK." She hung up. "He's coming down now, in five to ten minutes."

By this time they'd reached the car again and Abbey wanted to check out how roomy or otherwise it was for her friends in the back. As she ducked inside, Jenny pulled him to one side with a hand on his arm.

"How much commission did you lose, persuading her to take the Mini rather than the Jag?" she still held his upper arm, he really didn't want her to let go, ever, if he was honest.

"I'm the sales manager, so I'm not on commission; it's Monday and most of the salesmen have today and Tuesday off," he smiled.

"OK, then how much would the commission have been if you were the salesman?" she enquired.

"Not as much as you'd think, our salesmen are on a good basic salary, the cars almost sell themselves so they do not have to be as pushy or tempted to offer poor choices to our customers as some other car salesmen."

"You avoided my question neatly, Tim, but not neatly enough. Now, how much?" she persisted, reinforced with her disarming smile.

"A thousand or so," he shrugged.

"And how much discount did you knock off the list price of the Mini before putting in the base price?"

Jenny was a smart cookie, there was an entry for discount on the form he'd filled in on the tablet, which he'd intentionally left blank.

"A thousand or so," he shrugged.

Jenny grinned, showing a perfect set of white teeth. "Thought so ... You don't remember me at all, do you, Timothy Smith?"

Tim looked at her more closely; unfortunately she had just released her grip on his upper arm. As he had noted to himself before, she was tall, blond, very nice figure, with a beautiful face. Very attractive for early to mid-40s he re-assessed, definitely beautiful and way, way out of his class. Anyway, Jenny was married, so she was definitely off-limits as far as he was concerned. Tim valued his integrity; he had no need to step outside the parameters he had established for himself long ago. If she had been single, though, there was no doubt he would have been very, very interested.

"I am mortified," he said apologetically, "I may need to book an appointment with my resident consultant brain surgeon, I am certain that if I had met you before I would never ever have forgotten you."

"Well, I have never ever forgotten you," she grinned.

"Damn! I feel even worse now," he said, "As soon as I get back in the office I'll call for a gurney fitted with restraining straps and an emergency nurse with a cold compress!"

She laughed. "You wouldn't remember me, Tim, honestly you wouldn't. I was about 23 when you last saw me and you sold me my second ever motorcar, which turned out to be my most important purchase, ever."

"No, I can't believe it, I am sure I still had all my faculties completely intact just, ooh, eight or ten years ago."

Jenny punched him lightly on the arm, "It was 22 or 23 years ago, you bullshitter, as you very well know!" She was beautiful when she smiled. "I wore my hair cut quite short and a shade or two darker back then. Also, I had thick-rimmed glasses and probably still had braces on my teeth. I had just finished college and didn't dress anywhere near as well as I do now, so I'm not surprised you didn't recognise me."

"Well, Jenny, if you don't mind me saying so, you must have turned from a duckling into a beautiful swan. I must've only been about 15 or 16 some 22 or 23 years ago. What car did I sell you?"

"It was a classic powder-blue MGB sports car."

"I think I remember that car," Tim said. "It must've been a Saturday, when I still worked part-time at Mac's scrap yard and car sales, mostly cleaning and polishing. I only helped out with customers when Mac or the other salesmen were too busy. You never came back to return it, so how was that MGB?"

"I loved that car, it was my absolute pride and joy. It was eight years old when I bought it and I drove it for another eight years until it became too expensive to get through the MOT."

"It was the perfect car for you at the time," Tim remembered, or at least partly remembered, thinking he may actually have been only 15 and still at school while only working at Mac's on Saturday mornings.

"I was looking at a much bigger sports car, which would have been too powerful and too expensive to run and you approached me to see if I needed help, before guiding me to look at that MGB and sold it to me for £300."

"It must've been the right car for you if you kept it for eight years."

"It was. In fact, it's still going strong, over 30-odd years old, an MGB enthusiast bought it from me and restored it, displays it regularly at sports car shows and we've kept in touch ever since."

"Wow! I'd love to see that car again!"

"I'll give you Wayne's number. Just three careful owners and he's restored the car until it looks absolutely immaculate. In fact, without that car I would never have met my husband. Maybe, I owe you my whole wonderful life." She squeezed Tim's hand.

Abbey got out of the car then and Tim showed her the boot and the engine and all the little cubbyholes where she could store stuff; where the diesel, oil, coolant and washer liquids went. Tim especially warned her to be careful about the diesel fuel, as petrol wouldn't work at all. Abbey was so excited, this was her very first car and it was, Tim had to admit, a beauty. It was perfect for her in her current circumstances.

While they were still with the car, her father turned up in a large and immaculate midnight blue Mercedes. Jenny tucked her arm in Tim's as her husband stepped out of his car and strode towards his wife and daughter. He was tall and distinguished, dressed like a powerful executive in a very nice grey pinstriped suit. He had a full head of brown and grey hair and a grey-tinted dark brown moustache. He had a huge smile on his face as he saw his daughter so excited. Tim could see from his smile where Abbey inherited her dimples.

"Daddy!" she shrieked, when she realised he had arrived, "Come and look at my new car!"

"Wow! That's a bright yellow! I thought you wanted a sports car?" he chuckled, stroking her back affectionately. He had a very cultured Southern English accent.

"Oh, this is so much better!" enthused Abbey. "It's so me!"

"It is, sweetheart," he grinned affectionately, "It so is."

He turned and smiled at Jenny, he didn't seem anywhere near as perturbed, that Jenny had familiarly linked her right arm with his left arm, as Tim certainly felt.

Whilst still holding onto Tim's arm, Jenny leaned across and kissed her husband lightly on the lips and said "Roger, this is Tim Smith, the sales manager and ... this is my husband, Roger Jones."

Roger stretched out his hand and shook Tim's spare hand, smiling slightly as they shook and exchanged the usual polite felicitations, each in a business-like manner, Tim said "Mr Jones" and Roger said "Mr Smith".

Jenny continued speaking as they shook, "Roger, you may be interested to know that it was Tim here who, all those years ago, sold me my MGB!"

The two men were still politely touching hands at that point, when Roger suddenly enveloped Tim's hand with both his hands and started pumping that hand furiously, his opening rather enigmatic smile turning into a broad and genuine toothy grin and he began to laugh in a deep warm baritone.

"Well, this is indeed a pleasure, Tim," he said as he chuckled, "I love that car almost as much as Jen does. Did she tell you she still goes out of her way to see it at summer rallies at least once a year?"

"She did, sir."

"Tim, please call me Roger, if it wasn't for that car you sold her I probably wouldn't be the happy man I am today. Jen was a computer programmer in my company at the time we first met and it seemed that every lunchtime she was bent over that car polishing it. I just had to go over and speak to her about it and one thing led to another. I swear that car deservedly has its own entry in our Christmas card list!"

He released Tim's hand and put his arms round his daughter Abbey, saying "Well, sweetheart, you came to a Jaguar garage to look at sports cars, so how come you ended up with this little saloon?"

"I test drove one of those first, Daddy," Abbey said, pointing to the XK-R coupe in pride of place in the window of the showroom, "But Tim insisted that I drive this one as well and I absolutely love this car!"

"Thank you Tim, I think you've saved me a few tens of thousands," he said as he turned back to the sales manager. Jenny, still holding onto Tim's arm, whispered "About seventy, dear."

"I am very impressed," he said, nodding at Tim, "But from what Jen has often said of you down the years, though, it is exactly what I should have expected."

Tim's eyebrows shot up at that. If he was honest, he couldn't remember Jenny at all from all those years ago. As she said herself, she was not confident enough then to look as attractive as she is now, but then Tim was a schoolboy at the time. He wondered why she would remember him so favourably and had involved him apparently regularly since in her family conversations?

"I can't believe she would have remembered me, Roger, I was just a kid at the time and I guess we must have only spoken together for 20 or 30 minutes at most."

"Integrity, my dear boy," Roger said, almost as if he understood exactly what Tim was thinking, "It means so much more than appearances." He put his hand on Tim's shoulder. "When I get fed up with the Merc, I'll have you show me some of your Jags."

~~~~~

When Jenny paid the balance, by gold credit card, the next day, bringing with her the insurance cover note, she invited Tim to a family luncheon barbecue they were holding in a couple of weeks. It was on a Saturday and she informed him with a smile that the famous MGB and his owner Wayne were due to be there.

Tim had to decline, unfortunately. He explained that Saturday was his busiest day, particularly at this time of the year when the registration numbers were updated; he usually didn't finish work until very late in the afternoon, even early evening catching up with the paperwork.

Jenny had extended the original invitation to include Tim's wife or girlfriend, but he said no, he didn't have either one - he was still waiting to find the special person to fill those roles. When she joked that he must have a string of girls to choose a date from, he replied that the bachelor life really wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Tim admitted that he just socialised with a couple of mates for one or two drinks and that was his usual Saturday night; sad really but that was his life now.

When Jenny left, Tim thought about the invitation. His impression was that Jenny could have been considering an affair with him. That was the last thing Tim that was looking for, so he had made up the excuse of pressure of work on the spot to avoid acceptance.

Later, while working out at Jim's Boxing Gym, on his usual Tuesday night session, Tim thought about Jenny's conversation again. He wondered if he had misinterpreted the signals. Jenny had not only confirmed that the MGB would be there on the day of the barbecue but, after he declined and made his excuses, she had smiled with a look of regret and passed on Wayne's website address and contact mobile number so that he could check out that old car for himself. Maybe her intentions were honourable and that his imagination wasn't. Oh well, it was too late to go back now.

Tim often did his thinking during workouts. He cast his mind back to his time at Mac's. When he was about 14 years old Tim had pestered Old Mac McKnight, who owned a scrap yard on the edge of the nearby common, to give him a Saturday morning job. Next to that yard Mac had a garage of pretty suspect second-hand cars plus an auto shop selling spare parts salvaged from the yard. At first Tim simply washed, polished and valeted these sorry old bangers and later learned to perform simple servicing tasks in their tiny workshop and scour the scrap yard for usable spare parts. Eventually, almost by default, Tim got involved in car sales and discovered to his and everybody else's surprise that he was extremely good at it.

When he left school at 16, Old Mac gladly took Tim on as a full-time salesman. Tim wanted to be the best vehicle seller around so he took evening classes and correspondence courses for salesmanship, marketing, contract law, hire purchase and credit agreements. In his late teens he took business management courses and passed his national diploma. Later on, when he found he had spare time on his hands, he graduated at degree level through a number of correspondence courses.

Used-car salesmen have a reputation for being rogues and scoundrels and in many cases those disparaging epithets are fully justified. Tim was determined to be different. He wanted the highest degree of professional integrity in his work that he could realistically manage. Mac's cars were basically old bangers; Mac bought them up from car auctions or took in worn-out cars as part exchange, replacing defects with salvaged parts from the scrap yard wherever possible. Some of the cars were insurance write-offs that were tarted up for resale and would often fall apart shortly after the short-term guarantees that Mac supplied ran out.

Tim was always honest with Mac's customers. He would make it abundantly clear that they were buying cheap, why else were they coming to Mac's scrap yard in the first place? He would point out that they were buying a stopgap vehicle, to use for a couple of years at most before they fell apart. For a large number of Mac's regular clientele, this was acceptable practice and particularly suited those on a low income. Tim found he had the gift of the gab and could be very persuasive, soon becoming confident and comfortable dealing with clients. He was cheerfully honest and got a lot of repeat business, especially as these cars weren't expected to last very long!

Tim discovered he could be quite persuasive to steer clients away from making a bad choice in their selection and he tried to be as flexible in the drive-away price as Mac would allow. On the other hand if the customer acted as an arrogant prick that ignored his freely given advice, then he'd let them go with their own choice and cheerfully charge them top dollar for the privilege. Tim was basically a nice guy, but no mug; he was a realist, too.

~~~~~

"Hi Mickey, you're looking beautiful, sweetheart," Roger said, rising as his eldest daughter approached his restaurant table for lunch.

"Hardly, Dad," Michelle replied, trying hard to keep the twin-dimpled smile of pleasure he felt at the unwarranted compliment off her lips and failing almost completely, "This is the first lunchtime I've had off since starting back at school the week before last. The Year 7 curriculum has changed yet again, I've lost my holiday tan and really feeling frazzled."

"And Year 7 is?"

"Eleven to twelve year olds, Dad."

He kissed and hugged her and they sat down at the table.

"Your mother and I are worrying about you, Mickey," he said gently. "You could do with someone to share your load."

"I don't need anyone, Daddy, really, I'm happier on my own. With just myself to look after it takes a lot of the pressure off," she smiled, "Anyway, I'm an old maid, I've missed the boat long ago."

"You're only 29, Mickey," he said gently, "I married your mother in my mid-30s."

"And Mum was only in her early 20s! I remember that Geoff and I were so excited when you first brought her to Grannie's to introduce us, " she said, laughing, "Anyway, speaking of her, where is Mum?"

"Shopping expedition with Abbey," he said rolling his eyes, "Some final do-dads she apparently must have for college. Sometimes I think we spoil that girl rotten."

"Abbey is not spoilt, Dad," Michelle squeezed his hand across the table, "She's a very bright and well-balanced young woman and I'm sure she really needs what they are shopping for."

She did have the good grace to smile sheepishly at the remark. Roger grinned back.

"She's got a nearly new car that she's picking up tomorrow," Roger admitted as he took a menu from the waiter.

"Nearly new, huh?" laughed his daughter as she glanced down to make her own selection, "What's she gone for?"

"A Mini, quite a sedate and economical diesel with four doors," Roger told her, "In a very bright yellow that you can't miss, come rain or shine."