I know a fella in Kansas City that most folks call T-Bone. The T is a young man, single, who enjoys fast women, cold beer, and old cars. Not all that long ago, the T went to a car auction in the little town of Effingham, Kansas, population 546 if you count the dogs and cats.
It was at that auction that the T bought himself a 1948 Dodge for the grand sum of three-thousand dollars. The Dodge was a little rough around the edges as you might expect for a car of that age residing in Effingham, Kansas. The T figured he could make a little money on the car, but had to invest some of his own, around fifteen-hundred, more or less, on seat covers and the like to make it more appealing to the buying public. He makes a few minor improvements, runs it through the car wash, slaps on a coat of wax, and advertises that little jewel on the KC Craig’s List.
Before T finishes his first beer of the day, a woman calls and asks if T would call her husband. “I think he might be interested in that car, “ she says. The T does so.
“I got to ask,” the man says. “Did you by chance buy that car in Effingham, Kansas?”
Keep in mind that this man is in Kansas City, a major metropolis, asking about a tiny town in northeast Kansa with a total area of just over half a square mile.
Astonished, the T-Bone replies, “Well, yes I did.”
“My dad owned that car,” the man says. “Overhauled the engine on it. I got to have it. How much would it cost me?”
The T had it listed for an even four grand. The man offers thirty-seven hundred.
The T mulls that over. “I won’t sell it to you for thirty-seven hundred, but I will sell it to you for three-thousand. I want you to have it.”
Whatever the T might lack in financial business skills, he more than makes up for with a generous heart.
I heard that story just this morning and wanted to pass it on. I tip my hat to you, T-Bone. The world is a better place with people like you. Now, could I talk to you about a few acres I have for sale in Florida?