Saturday, 10:25 AM, outside my apt. on Grove Street, overcast, 62F.
I handed the Vicente Fox over to a nice guy, Morgan Gibson. He was not a Nazi. He appeared to be a very well-mannered middle class white kid, aged 24 or 25.
He paid cash and was very good about signing the forms I needed signed. The best part is that Morgan lives less than 1/2 mile from me, so in all likelihood, today won't be the last day I see the Fox in Berkeley.
One regret is that I didn't get a photo of me beside the car before it was driven away. In all the 15 years that it's been in the family, not once did I have my picture taken next to it. Kind of sad seeing how much I love it. Then again, it is just a hunk of metal. But a very cute hunk of metal, indeed.
Morgan dropped by a few hours after I sold him the car. He needed another signature. He said he really liked the car and was so glad he got it.
I think I did well today.
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