The Grapes of Wrath

Hot sun on rusted metal. Oil on the ground. People are wandering in, bewildered, needing a car.

Wipe your feet. Don’t lean on that car, it’s dirty. How do you buy a car? What does it cost? Watch the children, now. I wonder how much for this one? We’ll ask. It don’t cost money to ask. We can ask, can’t we? Can’t pay a nickel over seventy-five, or there won’t be enough to get to California.

God, if I could only get a hundred jalopies. I don’t care if they run or not.

Tires, used, bruised tires, stacked in tall cylinders; tubes, red, gray, hanging like sausages.

Tire patch? Radiator cleaner? Spark intensifier? Drop this little pill in your gas tank and get ten extra miles to the gallon. Just paint it on— you got a new surface for fifty cents. Wipers, fan belts, gaskets? Maybe it’s the valve. Get a new valve stem. What can you lose for a nickel?

All right, Joe. You soften ’em up an’ shoot ’em in here. I’ll close ’em, I’ll deal ’em or I’ll kill ’em. Don’t send in no bums. I want deals.

Yes, sir, step in. You got a buy there. Yes, sir! At eighty bucks you got a buy.

I can’t go no higher than fifty. The fella outside says fifty.

Fifty. Fifty? He’s nuts. Paid seventy-eight fifty for that little number. Joe, you crazy fool, you tryin’ to bust us? Have to can that guy. I might take sixty. Now look here, mister, I ain’t got all day. I’m a business man but I ain’t out to stick nobody. Got anything to trade?

Got a pair of mules I’ll trade.

Mules! Hey, Joe, hear this? This guys wants to trade mules. Didn’t nobody tell you this is the machine age? They don’t use mules for nothing but glue no more.

Fine big mules— five and seven years old. Maybe we better look around. Look around! You come in when we’re busy, an’ take up our time an’ then walk out! Joe, did you know you was talkin’ to pikers? I ain’t a piker. I got to get a car. We’re goin’ to California. I got to get a car.

Well, I’m a sucker. Joe says I’m a sucker. Says if I don’t quit givin’ my shirt away I’ll starve to death. Tell you what I’ll do— I can get five bucks apiece for them mules for dog feed.

I wouldn’t want them to go for dog feed.

Well, maybe I can get ten or seven maybe. Tell you what we’ll do. We’ll take your mules for twenty. Wagon goes with ’em, don’t it? An’ you put up fifty, an’ you can sign a contract to send the rest at ten dollars a month.

But you said eighty.

Didn’t you never hear about carrying charges and insurance? That just boosts her a little. You’ll get her all paid up in four-five months. Sign your name right here. We’ll take care of ever’thing.

Well, I don’t know

Now, look here. I’m givin’ you my shirt, an’ you took all this time. I might a made three sales while I been talkin’ to you. I’m disgusted. Yeah, sign right there. All right, sir. Joe, fill up the tank for this gentleman. We’ll give him gas.

Jesus, Joe, that was a hot one! What’d we give for that jalopy? Thirty bucks— thirty-five, wasn’t it? I got that team, an’ if I can’t get seventy-five for that team, I ain’t a business man. An’ I got fifty cash an’ a contract for forty more. Oh, I know they’re not all honest, but it’ll surprise you how many kick through with the rest. One guy come through with a hundred two years after I wrote him off. I bet you this guy sends the money. Christ, if I could only get five hundred jalopies! Roll up your sleeves, Joe. Go out an’ soften ’em, an’ send ’em in to me. You get twenty on that last deal. You ain’t doing bad.

Limp flags in the afternoon sun. Today’s Bargain. ’29 Ford pickup, runs good.

What do you want for fifty bucks— a Zephyr?

Horsehair curling out of seat cushions, fenders battered and hammered back. Bumpers torn loose and hanging. Fancy Ford roadster with little colored lights at fender guide, at radiator cap, and three behind. Mud aprons, and a big die on the gear-shift lever. Pretty girl on tire cover, painted in color and named Cora. Afternoon sun on the dusty windshields.

Christ, I ain’t had time to go out an’ eat! Joe, send a kid for a hamburger.

Spattering roar of ancient engines.

There’s a dumb-bunny lookin’ at the Chrysler. Find out if he got any jack in his jeans. Some a these farm boys is sneaky. Soften ’em up an’ roll ’em in to me, Joe. You’re doin’ good.

Sure, we sold it. Guarantee? We guaranteed it to be an automobile. We didn’t guarantee to wet-nurse it. Now listen here, you— you bought a car, an’ now you’re squawkin’. I don’t give a damn if you don’t make payments. We ain’t got your paper. We turn that over to the finance company. They’ll get after you, not us. We don’t hold no paper. Yeah? Well, you jus’ get tough an’ I’ll call a cop. No, we did not switch the tires. Run ’im outa here, Joe. He bought a car, an’ now he ain’t satisfied. How’d you think if I bought a steak an’ et half an’ try to bring it back? We’re runnin’ a business, not a charity ward. Can ya imagine that guy, Joe? Say— looka there! Got a Elk’s tooth! Run over there. Let ’em glance over that ’36 Pontiac. Yeah.