By Hollis Crummey
It was a cold, damp and grey Saturday afternoon in the winter of 1963 when most were indoors or doing something other than shopping for cars, trucks, or tractors. As a young salesman working my first fulltime employment since graduating high school, it was my Saturday to work. Mr. Altman wanted two salesmen on duty just in case someone wanted to make a major purchase at his dealership. My counterpart Alvin Miles and I were enjoying the warmth of a radiant gas heater situated in a part of the building that allowed us to watch the front lot.
How I met Foster Sellers
Suddenly there appeared a well-dressed gentleman walking around a used two-ton cab and chassis. “Tire kickers”, we called them, were prospective buyers who would walk around vehicles and kick the tires. I suppose to make sure they were holding air. This truck had been freshly painted with a shiny coat of blue on the cab and the frame a glossy black. Slightly used, but never having been driven uphill or against the wind, as a good car salesman would put it.
Alvin suggested that it was my turn to leave the warmth of the room and go out into the elements and see just how serious this tire kicker really was.
The gentleman expressed sincere interest in the truck so I offered to have him take it for a test-drive. After retrieving the key from the office, we proceeded east on 341 towards Surrency anxious for the heater to take the chill off a cold cab.
Somewhat of a shy person, I had not introduced myself. Needing to make a good impression and possible sale, I reached over with my right hand extended and told him who I was. He responded by saying, “I’m Foster Sellers”.
As soon as he got the words out of his mouth I knew exactly who I was meeting for the very first time. Willie Foster Sellers, a notorious local man who had been in and out of jail for stealing and robbery. Now, here I am with a pulse rate of about 120 and halfway to Surrency, wondering if we’re on our way to his next job. Would he use the old truck as an unsuspecting vehicle to approach the job, then pull the heist and steal something fast for a get-a-away vehicle? Would he require my assistance in the job and if I refused, shoot me?
My young, inexperienced mind raced in search of the solution in getting back to the lot and quickly. I pointed out that there wasn’t much gas in the tank and that I wasn’t sure how good the tires were. And suggested that maybe we should turn around.
Foster took my suggestion and we went back to the lot. It was fine that he didn’t buy the truck since I was back safely by the heater with Alvin. Once I quit shaking and got my composure, I told Alvin a story about a ride I took in an old truck with a notorious outlaw that lasted until closing time.
Alvin suggested that it was my turn to leave the warmth of the room and go out into the elements and see just how serious this tire kicker really was.
The gentleman expressed sincere interest in the truck so I offered to have him take it for a test-drive. After retrieving the key from the office, we proceeded east on 341 towards Surrency anxious for the heater to take the chill off a cold cab.
Somewhat of a shy person, I had not introduced myself. Needing to make a good impression and possible sale, I reached over with my right hand extended and told him who I was. He responded by saying, “I’m Foster Sellers”.
As soon as he got the words out of his mouth I knew exactly who I was meeting for the very first time. Willie Foster Sellers, a notorious local man who had been in and out of jail for stealing and robbery. Now, here I am with a pulse rate of about 120 and halfway to Surrency, wondering if we’re on our way to his next job. Would he use the old truck as an unsuspecting vehicle to approach the job, then pull the heist and steal something fast for a get-a-away vehicle? Would he require my assistance in the job and if I refused, shoot me?
My young, inexperienced mind raced in search of the solution in getting back to the lot and quickly. I pointed out that there wasn’t much gas in the tank and that I wasn’t sure how good the tires were. And suggested that maybe we should turn around.
Foster took my suggestion and we went back to the lot. It was fine that he didn’t buy the truck since I was back safely by the heater with Alvin. Once I quit shaking and got my composure, I told Alvin a story about a ride I took in an old truck with a notorious outlaw that lasted until closing time.
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#1
Stacy
on
03/28/12 at 10:22 PM
[Reply]
Nice story. I always enjoy reading about my Dad. Had you not been so nervous, he probably would have bought that truck:)