I had purchased a small refrigerator from the market which sells used and shady items. It was a nice refrigerator - not too big, not too small - about five feet tall. Black and silver. The fat bastard in the filthy t-shirt said "One thousand pesos". About eighty-five dollars?, I thought. Fine.
Inquiring about delivery, he quoted fifty pesos yet when the older than fuck fucker wobbled up with the truck he flatly demanded one hundred pesos. Ah, the gringo rate.
Hurtling through chaotic traffic, the old man squinted and swerved nearly hitting every vehicle and pedestrian who crossed his path.
"I don't have a clutch in this thing" He stated. The fumes of burnt gas emitting from the yellow hood of the truck burned my eyes. Every time he staggeringly halted at a red light, he had to shut the engine off and then restart it again.
"How old are you?" I jokingly asked.
"Eighty-two!" He stated proudly. "I can't see worth a damn, though."
I'm going to die, I thought as we almost careened into a bus crossing our path. Hell, the seat belts were even worthless.
Of course, ultimately, we made it back to my house in one piece. I stated if he would mind simply sliding the refrigerator to the lip of the back cab, I could carry it to my door alone. He then went into a tirade about his bad heart and his hip ulcer. Sigh. Fine. I jump into the cab and retrieve the appliance myself.
The small left-front foot popped off. Great. My neighbor, who was out on the sidewalk selling used garments and brick-brak inquired how much I paid for the thing. I told her. She chuckled and said I got ripped off.
"You think?" I laughed as I dragged it into my front door.
At least it goes with my brand new stove - which I yet to buy a connector tube for the gas main for. Muy sympatico...