After Hugh Jim won the Big Kahuna Lotto, he was in the market for a droptop. He bought a big one. A really big one.
Tan over navy blue. That's all they had. Hugh Jim Bissell was irked. He'd wanted the Sherwood Green exterior, the Wild-berry convertible top, and the Pimento seats. Rolls-Royce was fresh out of that combination.
"Sir," said the patient salesman, "there will be fewer than 250 Corniche convertibles in all the world this year. But we can custom-build anything you wish."
Big deal. Hugh Jim Bissell couldn't wait, and he didn't much like the salesman any-way. The man had a peculiar accent and some sort of pansy name: Crispin Pemberton-Piggott, for cryin' out loud, with a hyphen and everything, which, Hugh Jim guessed, meant he'd probably been fathered by two uncles overseas, possibly in Oregon.
"Okey-doke, I'll take 'er," Hugh Jim quickly agreed on the phone, "but you gotta, like, deliver it this mornin'. I'm doin' all these, whatchacallit, press-con-ference thingies. Might be talkin' with Montel."
The press conferences had to do with the Big Kahuna Lotto, which Hugh Jim had won Thursday night, after 17 years of purchasing one-dollar scratch-and-sniff tickets. Hugh Jim knew he'd won straight away. His ticket smelled like a pineapple. After the state had taken its 49-percent cut, Hugh Jim was left with a large cardboard check for $376,090. And, boy oh boy, was that ever a funny coincidence. When Hugh Jim told Pemberton-Piggott that he wanted Rolls-Royce's most expensive model, the thing turned out to cost $376,090. "Must be livin' right or somethin'," Hugh Jim commented.
"The Corniche is our first all-new convertible in three decades," informed Pemberton-Piggott on the phone, sounding proud, as if his wife had just given birth or some-thing. "Descended from the Bentley Continental and Azure, but with Seraphesque styling. I'm sure you'll agree, it summons the Côte d'Azur, with la Grande Corniche clinging to the Alpes Maritimes— provence magnifique—between Nice and Monte Carlo."
"I had a Monte Carlo once," replied Hugh Jim, wondering whether the salesman might be suffering an undiagnosed speech impediment. "But I gotta tell ya, nobody called it a Cornish hen or whatever. It had a busted shock, liked to broke my bladder." Hugh Jim bit into his day's third Hostess HoHo.
When Pemberton-Piggott arrived, even Hugh Jim was flabbergasted by the Corniche's size, by its colossal stateliness. The thing was nearly 18 feet long and weighed 6080 pounds—as heavy as the only other vehicle he'd ever coveted: a yellow Hummer.
Unbidden, Pemberton-Piggott launched into what he called a "delivery demonstration," which turned out to be a good thing because Hugh Jim couldn't locate the ignition switch. Several of his neigh-bors assembled. For the first time, they were hushed and reverent, like the time his brother Irvel's Lawn-Boy threw half a mulching blade through Naomi Wulruud's bathroom window, her still on the throne and all.
"Sweet baby Jesus, just look at them carpets!" exclaimed Hugh Jim, who quickly shed his high-tops to drag his bare toes through the deep-pile Wilton lamb's wool. "This is like, what, a major shag right here?"
"Sir, you might also notice the delectable fragrance of the hand-stitched Connolly hides," instructed Pemberton-Piggott, who then pointed to what he called "the subtle cross-banded boxwood inlays in optional burled walnut, tulip wood, birds-eye maple, light bur oak, and . . ."
"Ever work with pine?" Hugh Jim interrupted. " 'Cause it's easier to get them knots outta there, like you got all over the dashboard right here next to . . . son of Betty Crocker's goat, the hell's this?" Hugh Jim pointed threateningly at the plastic Alpine radio. "Damned if I didn't have me one of them in my conversion van," he sputtered, " 'cept only Naomi could make heads 'r tails of that sucker, on account of she took all that computerin' over there to night school."
"Mr. Bissell, sir, please, if I may have the pleasure of your company during a brief demonstration drive," said Pemberton Piggott, as if anxious to change the subject. Hugh Jim grabbed a spare HoHo, and Naomi Wulruud leapt into the back seat without the benefit of an open door.
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