Choice gleanings from 45-plus years of Unregistered Bull.

John paused in the act of lighting a Bull Durham and spoke out of the side of his mouth. "Look," he said, "here comes Skinnum Slick. He's sold me a new car every year for so long he thinks all he has to do is come around and tell me he's got another one already registered for me and come and get it out of his way. Watch him get the worst surprise he's had in 20 years."

The car dealer flopped down by John and heaved a big sigh. John waited for him to start a sales talk, but it didn't come. Finally, John couldn't stand the silence any longer.

"How's the car business, Skinnum?" he said. "You don't need a broke cowpuncher for a salesman, do you?"

"I might, at that," the dealer said. "There's something wrong with you ranchers and I can't quite understand it."

"It's a terrible disease," said John. "Too many vitamins."

"What kind of vitamins?" said the dealer.

"I dunno," said John, "whatever kind of vitamins there is in sunshine. We're foundered on 'em. The only cure is two years of wet weather. We've already reached the crisis and no relief in sight. But go ahead and tell me about your troubles, it makes me feel kind of good to see somebody else suffering in times like these.

"Well, it's like this," said Skinnum. "I'm standing down by the place awhile ago and here comes this old character for a new car. I know that's what he's after because every year about this time he always comes in and gets one, at least ever since I can remember. I always tell him what I can give him for his old one, he climbs in the new one and drives off, and that's all there is to it.

"But today he just grunts when I give him the big hello and goes on in to look over the new models. He don't say anything, just prowls around looking it over in a very critical way. I sidle up to him and ask him don't he think it's a honey.

"'What's the price between this and my old one?' he asks. I tell him a thousand. He runs backward, fighting his head. 'Why,' he hollers, 'that's what you charged me last year!'"

"I explain the price is about the same this year, maybe a little higher, but I'm giving him a good deal on account of he's one of my favorite customers. He goes to raising cain about cars being so high and the cattle market cut half in two. I tell him I don't know anything about cattle, I'm an expert on cars and this is the best car ever seen by man or beast.

"He comes back with a kick about all the extras on it, saying how us dealers try to hijack the public with a lot of fancy gimmicks. I never heard him talk like this before, but I try to humor him along and ask him what he means by too many extras.

"'Look at that radio,' he bellers. 'Who wants one of them dern things? All you hear is lot of stuff that makes you mad, like political speeches, Mexican commercials, weak market reports and dry weather predictions.' I tell him okay, we'll fix him up one without a radio and take off on the price accordingly. I can see he's a changed man from a year ago.

"'Naw,' he says, 'you birds have fancied these cars up and jacked the price so high a man can't afford one anymore. You've got too many unnecessary gadgets on them.'

"I ask him if he doesn't like the tinted windows, and he admits they might be all right in case he had to haul his banker around. They might make his country look a little greener, he said. I ask him if he dislikes the spare tire, and he admits he don't object to that so much. He even goes so far as to say he'd rather not leave the heater off. I point out that I can't give him any better price if we take the horn off, though if he'd make a deal with the manufacturer to start with, he might have saved some. He says he guesses he'd have to take it, although he'd like to see it against the law for anybody but ranchers to have horns on automobiles. I ask him why, and he says look how pore the stock is on ranches close to highways. Every time somebody honks a horn, he claims, all the cattle run for a mile looking for somebody in a pickup full of feed.

"This makes me mad. I lose my head and tell him I'll take off another hundred on the price and leave him a horn but no radio. I figure if we don't trade quick we're not gonna trade atall.

"'Naw,' he says, 'you're still selling me a lot of stuff I don't need.' That's when I blow up. I make him admit he has to have a motor in a car, also a place to sit down when he's driving it. Then I ask him what we could possibly take off the car to make it any cheaper.

"'Them things right there,' he says. "Them windshield wipers. I got about as much use for them as I have for a amphibious airplane.'

"That's why," said Skinnum, "I'm not trying to sell you a car. When I have to take in $25 worth of second-hand feed sacks for a brand new set of windshield wipers, I've had all I can stand." — (S.F. 10/23/52)