Sitting behind his desk overlooking the showroom floor of Wimbleton Motor Emporium was J. Carlton Wimbleton, heir to the fortune of his father, J. Wellington Wimbleton. Well, that was the story he told everyone, though in reality he had only inherited a vast hamburger debt. He did own the company, though it was buoyed by a huge cash float and creative enronomics. Carlton popped the last bite of his under-six-grams of fat Subway sandwich into his mouth and headed for the door as he saw the pickup pull into the lot outside. A couple stepped out. The young man looked vaguely familiar, Carlton thought. Carl! the young man exclaimed, stepping through the open door. Sweepea? My, youve changed! How long has it been? Not since the funeral, I guess. Great to see you again, anyway. What can you do for me? Carlton asked with a wry grin. This is my squeeze, Anita. We need some transportation, and fast. Figgered you were the man to see. My boy, youve come to the right place. In spite of the lowfat sub, Carlton could feel the grease starting to lubricate his tongue. Weve got anything you could want. Lets tour the showroom. He grabbed them each by an arm and steered them toward a Rolls Royce he had recently acquired. Let me tell you about this baby... Sweet pea managed to interrupt after about five minutes. Carl, really, thats not what we had in mind. No problem! Ive got anything you need. Ive got a Volvo 960 here for you, driven by a little old lady on Sundays only. I know, its boxy, but safe! No, not your style? Too conservative. How bout a Chevy 320 SUX convertible? Maybe a shiny new Bug? Plenty of Fahrvenen there. Whaddya need? Sweet pea stopped at the bright red Beetle. What do you think, hon? Ive always thought they were cute. She punched him in the arm. Well, not as cute as you. She punched him again, harder. You idiot! We didnt come here for this. Great. Lets you and him fight, Carlton said. He watched as Sweepea and Anita argued. Look, if he doesnt have a boat, were outta here. We need a boat to help Mom! she yelled and stormed toward the door. Well why didnt you say so? Carlton asked. I told you, Ive got just what you need. He hustled out the door to the lot. Follow me. Carlton took them out back behind the showroom to a warehouse. There on a boatrack rested the SS Minotoo. He clambered up a ladder at the stern and gave the boat a few good stomps. Shes a solid old boat. Take you anywhere you want to go. Ill give you a great deal. Just 20 grand. Anita turned to go. Hey, youre as good as family, right? We can talk about the price. I was hoping to trade our pickup for a boat. Whaddya say, Carl? Well, let me think about it. Ill have to go check the paperwork. Carlton left the warehouse and returned a few minutes later. OK, Ill gladly take your truck today and deliver the boat Tuesday. We need the boat today. This is an emergency! Alright, alright, just come in and sign the papers. Ill even have one of the boys hitch the boat up to your pickup and drive you outta here. Get the boat in the water, and hell bring back your truck. Deal? Deal. Shortly thereafter, Sweepea and Anita were on their way, with the motor of the SS Minotoo chugging happily. By then, J. Carlton Wimberton had already sold their truck for more than he paid for the Minotoo.