The New Car

"Are you going to drink your wine?" She asked, leaning across the table as if she already knew the answer. We were just finishing dinner at Angelini's over on Beverly Drive. Nice place, good food, friendly staff. Valet parking. We had ordered Bombolotti and the Trofie alla Riviera, split the whole Branzino, and shared a dessert with a little wine. Well, more than a little wine, I guess. Her taste ran to the Pinot Gris side of the house but I wanted something with a little more body, something a bit less white, but not necessarily a red. We settled on the Anselmi, still crisp but with more sweetness to it, a touch impertinent at first but with a strong soft finish. By the time we'd poured that last of the second bottle, her eyes were glowing and I was feeling warm and dreamy. It was just after 6pm and the sun was slowly disappearing in the west, wiping massive streaks of deep, translucent pink against the blue-grey horizon.   
"I hadn't much thought about it." I replied, watching a waiter move quickly across the room, one upstretched hand heroically balancing what appeared to be an entire roast pig on a silver platter.
"Always the decider," she said reaching across the table to take the glass. "Do you mind?"
I sighed and said, "You finish it. I think I've already had enough." She raised the rim of the glass to her lips and tossed down the last ounce of amber liquid like it was a shot of vodka. She placed her napkin over the top of the glass just as the sun finally set, oozing a line of deep coral behind it.
"Have you thought about the new car?" 
"The new what?"
"The new car. Remember we talked about it yesterday and you said you'd think about? Have you thought about it?"
"Not really."
"Well you need to think about it."
"Why?"
"Because we need a new car."
"We don't need a new car. We already have two cars. They still run fine. They're paid for ..."
They're both over 10 years old. One needs new tires. I want something new, something ..."
Expensive, I thought. Sleek, dark, and expensive.
"I don't know, maybe a new Volvo?"
We already own two Volvos, a black wagon and a blue sedan, both serviceable and civil, a little bit of Sweden on Michelin tires.  
"Of course, what I'd really like is a BMW or a Mercedes, but I know they're too expensive and we probably can't afford either of those."
Probably? Definitely. We can't afford Sweden or Germany right now. I watched the waiter slice and serve the roast pork to a table of six across the room. I think the diners were celebrating a birthday.  
"But the monthly on the Volvo and the Mercedes are pretty much the same, so what do you think?"
I didn't want to think just then. I wanted to sit back and finish eating the last of the creamy Pecorino Stagianato and dried figs on my plate. I wanted to dip a fig in the honey and pop it into my mouth.  
"Well first off, we don't have the money for a new car ... But I guess if we can't afford either of them and the payment is about the same for both then we might just as well buy the Mercedes, to be on the safe side." I smiled at her and scooped up the remaining pistachios decorating the dessert plate.  
"That is so German of you." She almost snarled.
"Why do you say that? Do I look German to you?
Do I have 'Made in Germany' stamped on my forehead or on my back or on my ass? Made in Germany? My parents would be surprised to know that. They always told me I was conceived on a hilltop in Wisconsin on a beautiful September night under a sky full of falling stars."
"I thought you said your people came from Austria"
"My Father's people came from Austria. My Mother's family hailed from England. Anyway, Austria and Germany are not the same."
"Used to be."
"But not lately."
Our waiter brought the check and smiled. "Whenever you're ready," he said.
"The lady would like coffee and I would like a shot of your best single malt." The waiter nodded approvingly.
"Amaretto with the coffee," she volunteered with a raised hand. 
"Certainly," he said, "and will Lagavulin be acceptable for the gentleman?"
It was my turn to nod approvingly, so I did, and he walked toward the small bar located on a wall at the far end of the dining room.
"Anyway, I don't think I'm the Mercedes type," I offered.
"You may not be," she said, "but I am." And she definitely was. 
In less than five minutes our waiter returned with the drinks.
"Cafe Amaretto for the lady," he said, "and your Lagavulin, sir. Will there be anything else?"
I shook my head and he adjusted our bill then hurried back to his post next to the kitchen door.
I raised the glass of Scotch to my nose and breathed in deeply, letting the aromas of salt spray and smoky peat conjure up a vision of Dunyvaig Castle in my mind's eye.    
"So what do you think? I mean seriously." 
"About what?" 
"About the car."  At that moment Dunyvaig Castle fell to ruin.
"We can't afford a new Volvo and we certainly can't afford a Mercedes. How about a Ford? Maybe one of their SUVs?"
"Are you joking me?"
"No."
"You must be kidding."
"I'm not." 
"A Ford. A Ford? As in F O R D? As in Fix Or Repair Daily? As in Found On Road Dead? You have to be kidding." 
"Oh come on now, it's not as bad as all that. Ford makes an excellent product these days. There is nothing wrong with Ford. What's wrong with buying something made right here in America. What's wrong with buying American?"
When I was growing up there were no Mercedes. No Volvos. No Beamers. There weren't any Toyotas, Nissans or Hondas, either. Every now and then we might get to see a Volkswagen but that was only because we lived in tourist country.
"Times have changed."
"And so has Ford."
"Well you haven't. Seriously ... I mean, seriously? A Ford? You think a Ford is as good as a Mercedes?"
"I didn't say that. Did I say that? Tell me when you heard me say that." The Lagavulin was almost gone but the warmth was lingering deep inside where it did the most good.
"It was implied." She said flatly. Her eyes were howling now and the Cafe Amaretto was almost gone. It was after 9pm in California. That would make it almost dawn on the Isle of Islay where the dark ruins of Dunyvaig Castle rose above the rocky shoreline to color the horizon like a child's dirty smudge.
"Do we have to decide now?" I asked as we rose from the table and moved toward the door.
"Well, we ought to decide something!" She was shrill but not really serious. 
"Have you got five dollars?" I asked. "I've only got a twenty and I'm not paying that much for any valet to move my car half a block."
"Even if it was a FORD?" 
She laughed.
"Even if it was a Mercedes."