White Niggers
Chapter 13
Friday, August 9th, 2019, 10:00
Used car dealership, Triesterstraße 152–156, 23rd district of Vienna
Timur found an ad about a Chevy van built in 1996. Granted, it isn't a convertible, nor is it fancy, but it does fit his budget, and Timur hopes to make up with his charisma what this car lacks in glamour. Timur comes to an appointment with the used car salesman and is waiting for him in the lobby.
The appointment is scheduled at 10:00 a. m.
At five minutes past ten, the salesman is nowhere to be seen. He asks the receptionist, and she says the mobile phone of this salesman is not responding. He asks whether someone else could show him the car, and she says no.
There is a coffee vending machine in the lobby. Timur drinks a cup of coffee and kills time by researching about the topic that Lisa's life seems to revolve around – the conflict in Ukraine in 2014.
About a quarter hour later, the salesman finally appears.
"Herr Tsarnaev, I am very sorry," The salesman says.
He is around the age of fifty, unshaven, wearing jeans and a black jacket. He holds a worn-out Samsonite attache case in his hand. He looks as if he came straight from the 1970s.
"Good morning," Timur says. "Can we look at the car?"
"Okay… right to the point," the salesman says. "Do you want more coffee?"
"Thanks, I'm good," Timur says.
The salesman leads him to the back yard. There, in a workshop he sees the Chevy van. It is painted dark red with the paint peeling away in several places. Timur thinks he saw a car like this in one of the TV shows from the 1990s, maybe "The A-Team." It is a car from a different century, and it shows.
"Can I look inside?" Timur says.
"Of course," the salesman says.
He is smiling like a Cheshire cat. He opens the door of the van.
"The smell there is a little… pungent, but after a little cleaning it will go away," the salesman says. "Probably."
The inside of the car smells like a mix of cat urine with a whiff of gasoline. Other than that, the car is more or less clean.
"Why are you selling the car?" Timur says.
He goes out of the cabin and goes to the back where there are two doors.
"The owner died," the salesman says. "And his kids did not want the car."
"I see," Timur says. "Can we do a test-drive?"
"Sure!" the salesman says.
His eyes move fast in different directions, and Timur notices that he starts to sweat.
They get into the car with Timur in the driver's seat. He tries three times before the ignition eventually catches.
The salesman wipes the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief.
They drive out of the back yard. Timur notices the smell inside the car is quite annoying. It feels as if the late owner not only died inside the car, but also decomposed there for a while. Timur decides to find out who will be the first to give in to the olfactory torture – he or the salesman.