Auto Frustrato.

We have one Fiat dealer here in town, and they seem to me to be unsure if they want to sell any of them--kind of like a reluctant garage sale host who decides his precious items are just for show right at the moment you've made an offer. Humph.

I drove up and down the parkway with the dealership lot clearly in sight, but an entrance to get in not. I started to wonder if this was really a dream. You know, the kind your subconscious sews together with pieces of your day's frustrations...

But, after my third revolution of Michigan turns, I saw what looked to be a way in, if I turned off the main road and drove in from behind. So I did so, a bit rushed since they only stayed open 'til 4:00 and don't have Sunday or holiday hours.

After I parked, I experienced what no one ever has: a car lot that's open for business without one salesperson on the ground. I wandered the lot alone, unharassed, yet I wouldn't have minded a little. When I walked into the unlocked showroom, it was empty. 

This was feeling more and more like a fantasy, as I stroked their hoods and whispered into their side mirrors--unnoticed and uninterrupted.

I left, finally. No closer to making a purchase. I don't think these ones are for sale...