Drive like a baller


Guy in a black Dodge Charger pulls up next to me, honks, and rolls down his window.

“Bro,” he says. “There’s a scratch on your car. I can fix it. I’m a body man.”

Maybe I look reluctant so he ups the ante on his pitch.

“Bro, that car is going to look so good when I get done with it, the ladies are going to be all over your business.”

It’s true. Some women are especially interested in what a man drives. But I’m pretty sure those women prefer flashy cars.

“But it’s a Corolla,” I say.

“You’ll never be a baller with that attitude, bro.”

The light changes and he speeds away. He may be a body man and a baller, but he is a lousy salesman because he forgot to give me his card.

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