the story of saturday night

Nine years ago, Mr. Hawthorne and I, with our first baby in tow, walked onto the Kia car lot and purchased a brand-new, first year model minivan. Because it was a first year model, the price was good. And, although my handy hubby was reluctant at the thought of purchasing any minivan, he agreed to my whims of brand new motherhood.

The main reasons I wanted a minivan was simply because it drove like a car, but had room for strollers and diaper bags and groceries and dogs. Plus, because of the bucket seats you are required to drive your infants around in, the sliding side doors made the ease of loading and unloading those said seats much easier. Not to mention when obnoxious people parked their vehicles too close for comfort, those same sliding doors came in very handy, allowing entrance into the minivan still possible.

Suffice to say, I did love my minivan for many reasons especially after adding two more kids, many more groceries and a double stroller to the mix. We drove that minivan to it's demise, however, and eventually parked it on the side of the driveway. We cleaned it out, stopped paying insurance on it and paid homage to it every now and again. It was a good car and a symbol of the survival of our young family.

Which brings me to last night.

Around seven o'clock, a young man rang the doorbell. I opened the door and he told me he was looking for a minivan in our area that was for sale, but was having a hard time finding it. Then he bluntly asked if we were selling ours. I told him we had planned on selling it, but hadn't done anything yet. I could see my answer set the wheels in his head on fire and he was ready for some wheeling and dealing. I sent Mr. Hawthorne outside with the keys and about fifteen minutes later, they drove away for a test drive.

Don't get me wrong, this very odd situation made me extremely nervous and I couldn't help thinking it was some sort of scam. Although the man fed us a line that he was up here looking for a car for his wife and four kids, his cell phone was dead and he didn't bring the address of the car he was up here to originally purchase, I wasn't buying it. His Nordstrom attire and slicked hair told me otherwise. When the test drive was in operation, I went outside and took note of his information from the car he was driving.

He worked out a deal with Mr. Hawthorne. Paid us cash and while charging his cell phone in our minivan, called a tow truck company he happened to have on speed dial. The conclusion I arrived at was he had a private car lot. He buys cars cheap, fixes them up somewhat and sells them to the next dope looking for a deal.

In a matter of an hour an half, the minivan we drove our sleeping babies around in, that parked quietly on the side of driveway, was man-handled by the somewhat con-man, loaded up on the back of a tow truck and hauled away for a new life.

It was truly the most random, oddest single happening I've ever experienced.