“Yeah, Jon called to say he was sendin’ somebody needin’ a ride.”

“That’s right,” Tom replied with a nod.

The dealer behind the counter looked the lanky kid Over. “Now, I know Big Jon, & I know who he hires, and it sure ain’t kids like you.”

Tom shrugged. “He decided to take a chance on me.”

“Some chance, alright.” He shook his head.“C’mon, I’ll show y’what I got.”

In the back garage, the dealer sauntered up to an urbane silver Porche convertable. Tom let out a low whistle; he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Beauty, inn’t she?” the dealer asked proudly.

Then a thought crossed the kid’s mind. “What kind of transmission is it?”

“Standard, o’course.” Tom bit his lip. “That a problem?”

“Well, this is just the sort of car in which y’need to look like you know what you’re doing…” Tom began slowly, rubbing his neck.

The dealer sighed. “You dunno what you’re doing, do you?”

“Not exactly, no.”

The dealer hung his head. “Sheesh, Jonny-boy better know what he’s gettin himself into, ‘cuz I sure don’t.”