White Niggers
Chapter 14
Friday, August 9th, 2019, 10:30
Used car dealership, Triesterstraße 152–156, 23rd district of Vienna
He drives extra slowly and looks twice anytime he makes a turn.
"Please excuse me for my cautious driving," Timur says. "I don't want to damage the car."
"And I appreciate it," the salesman says.
The salesman moves his fingers to his nose several times. Then he tries to roll down the window.
"Please don't," Timur says. "I'm allergic to pollen, and I don't like drafts."
"As you wish," the salesman says.
They drive around the block. When they are close to the dealership, Timur stops the car.
"I think I made up my mind," Timur says.
"And?" the salesman says.
"This car is advertised for two thousand Euros," Timur says. "I've got only one thousand."
"Well, that's not enough," the salesman says.
He is holding the handkerchief close to his nostrils as if he is about to lament about forgone profits.
"Well, maybe I can explain it to you," Timur says.
Timur shifts into first gear and presses the clutch pedal. Differential gears beneath the floor howl like a bunch of hungry hyenas. The car begins to move.
"Where are you going?" the salesman says.
It gets tear-jerkingly funky inside the car. Burnt oil dominates the bouquet of smells now. The exhaust pipe must have a leak, Timur thinks.
"What do you want?" the salesman says.
"A discount," Timur says.
He slows down the car so it is moving only slightly faster than a person walking. He wants the smell to sink in.
Timur also suffers from the stench, especially because he cannot close his nostrils. Buying this car is a little step for humanity, but a giant leap for the relationship with Lisa, Timur thinks. And for her I am willing to outsuffer this shyster.
"It is clearly advertised this car costs two thousand Euros," The salesman says. "Why should I give you a discount?"
His politeness is gone.
"It was not advertised that the ignition barely works," Timur says. "This car is over twenty years old. It's hard to get spare parts."
"Still–" The salesman says.
"Alright, then let's drive a little more," Timur says. "Extra slowly. I want you to experience the second reason for a discount."
The salesman is silent.
"Just keep breathing. Let the smell get inside you," Timur says. "It's not toxic. Or is it?"
The salesman is sweating even more.
"I have all the time in the world," Timur says. "Enjoy the aroma. Any other customer will tell you the same. People don't like broken ignitions and stenches."
"You know that I'm right," Timur says. "You almost didn't show up for the appointment. You know why? Past experience with potential buyers, that's why. They come, they smell, they go away. It's happened so often that you don't take those meetings seriously any more. That's why you were late."
A wisp of black smoke rises from the van's floor. Timur points at it.
"I mean, just look at this," Timur says. "If any of your Austrian customers sees this, they will sue the nose off your face for attempted murder by gassing. I'm your only chance."
They are approaching the dealership for the second time. The salesman doesn't look at Timur and fidgets with his handkerchief.
"What will it be?" Timur says.
"Alright, you won," The salesman says. "You can have the car for a thousand Euros."
"Excellent. Now we need to stop," Timur says. "I hope the brakes work better than the ignition."
The car comes to a halt. The salesman opens the door and coughs for several minutes. Thirty minutes later, Timur emerges from the dealership with the keys and drives off.