America: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 55 Car Graveyard

Neither party dwelled on the matter too much, since neither of them minded, and Zhang Ailun didn't need to worry too much. It was a private matter between Olivia and her boyfriend.

Olivia was curious about what Zhang Ailun was doing out of the city.

Zhang Ailun also replied to her: I'm going to the car graveyard in the suburbs to look at an old 1970s RV. If possible, I'd like to buy that vehicle, drive it back and get it serviced, so I won't have to live in a tent anymore.

If he could get more information like this in the future, he even considered starting a side business and getting involved in the resale of used cars once he had enough funds.

Although it requires initial capital investment, and even renting a venue and recruiting staff, the income and market response in the later stages are definitely faster than collecting cans.

Olivia: A motorhome? That's an interesting idea. But hasn't Catherine contacted you recently?

Zhang Ailun: No. We're from two different worlds, and we didn't exchange contact information. You should know what she's been doing at night lately, right?

Olivia: Well, that's a shame. Her nightlife is certainly very vibrant.

What's there to regret? You're addicted to the threesome, aren't you?

They chatted for a few more minutes. Olivia said she was tired after staying up all night and was going to take a shower and go to bed, and that ended the conversation.

Not long after, the other party opened another message. Zhang Ailun clicked on it and, wow, another fanservice picture!

Wet, reddish-brown hair, a steamy bathroom, alluring eyes, a hand pressed against the mirror, only enough to cover a face, the rest blurred and indistinct by mist.

You know how to take photos!

Zhang Ailun: It's good-looking, I love watching it.

Olivia :)

The taxi stopped at a gas station, and the man with tattooed arms and a backpack got out. The driver reminded him to pay the fare, which he settled online before leaving.

With a few minutes' journey remaining, the vehicle started and continued driving, stopping at an intersection a few minutes later.

"Guests, you have arrived."

Zhang Ailun looked out the car window at the somewhat desolate suburbs, with jagged rocks and shrubs covering the hillsides, and a very large car graveyard nearby.

Everywhere you look, there are mountains of black tires and rusty empty car frames. The good parts and engines have mostly been taken away; what's left are mostly worthless items.

The car graveyard lives up to its name.

Zhang Ailun took out $24 in cash to pay the fare. The starting price was $0.75, and it was about $1 per kilometer or even less. Tips were optional; Zhang Ailun gave the driver $2, which was considered fair.

Following the map's directions, we walked for a few minutes along a man-made road until we saw a building surrounded by wire mesh with a metal sign. The English lettering on the sign was incomplete, rusted, and weathered. But it was clear that it was a shop that did modification and recycling.

"Hey! Is anyone here?" Zhang Ailun walked straight into the shop and called out. He also noticed that the yard was littered with screws, wrenches, greasy and dirty gloves, as well as wheel rims, tires, and a lift.

The inner door opened, and a slovenly, tall, thin man with a scruffy beard walked out. He was shirtless and wearing slippers.

He had a languid air about him, always giving off a somewhat melancholic vibe. A cigarette dangling from his lips, the man yawned as he looked at Zhang Ailun. "Welcome to Mike's Modification Shop. I'm Mark, an employee here. What can I do for you?"

Zhang Ailun stated his purpose directly: "Hello, I heard you have a 1976 GMC hiking campervan here? Selling for a low price of $200? I'm very interested, so I plan to come and take a look."

"You're here to buy a car? Where are you from?" Mark asked, somewhat surprised.

"In the city," Zhang Ailun replied.

Mark nodded. "You're really well-informed. I just put that car up for sale a few days ago."

Without asking any further questions, he turned around, took out a few photos of vehicles from inside the house, handed them to Zhang Ailun, and began to describe the vehicles to him.

He said, "Let me tell you beforehand, that car has been parked in the suburbs for over twenty years. It's an antique car, a zombie car. Although it can start, the wiring isn't too badly worn out, and it can still be started, it's been parked for too long, and the parts have long been discontinued. I'm not confident I can fix it. It's not that I'm not skilled, but it's because we have different focuses."

"Nowadays, most cars are made of gasoline or are new energy vehicles. The generators in the engine compartment are only the size of a palm, so maintenance and modification are not difficult. That RV uses a side-pull generator, which is as big as a tractor engine, with a power of 6000W, and is fueled by a 190-liter gasoline tank."

"The RV also adopts a three-axle design, a V8 engine with a displacement of about 7.5 liters, 265 horsepower, a curb weight of 8 tons, a length of 7 meters, and is equipped with cruise control, a front-wheel drive chassis, a high-end audio system, and air suspension. The interior is equipped with 9 seats and 3 beds, and on the other side is a 28 kg propane tank, enough for more than a week's use. The water heater on the vehicle also uses propane for heating."

"The kitchen is equipped with a double stainless steel sink, a four-burner gas stove, and a large-capacity refrigerator. At the rear of the vehicle is a large double bed measuring 2 x 1.4 meters."

Mark took a deep drag on his cigarette and flicked the ash away.

Zhang Ailun nodded. Judging from the photo, it was a green GMC camper van. The color photo and interior design also had the feel and charm of that era. Classic old cars will never go out of style even now.

He said, "Then take me to see it."

Seeing his positive attitude and willingness to buy, Mark went inside, found a short-sleeved shirt, casually put it on, and waved, "Come with me."

Zhang Ailun followed the other person out of the shop, walked for a few minutes, and arrived at a backyard with a shed.

The large iron gate was also locked. Mark took out a bunch of keys, unlocked the lock, and the chains clanged, followed by the barking of dogs coming from inside.

Mark barked through the door, and the dog stopped barking. Pushing the door open, he saw a bright silver Ford Mustang parked in the yard, along with two lively bulldogs.

Two dogs, drooling, came up wagging their tails and circling around the two men, sniffing Zhang Ailun's trouser legs.

"I like these two dogs." Zhang Ailun bent down and stroked the dog's head. He touched its well-developed muscles, its skin, and its fur, which looked shiny and smooth.

"Not for sale," Mark replied lazily, displaying a very individualistic way of speaking and acting.

Zhang Ailun shrugged. "Buddy, I didn't say I wanted to buy them. I just thought these two dogs were nice, and it's a shame they're used as guard dogs."

"You're not a dog, how do you know they don't want to guard the gate here?"

Mark responded with a sophistry.

"You're right..."

Zhang Ailun was speechless. This guy's words were barbed; he really had no emotional intelligence.

I don't know if it's because I've been staying in the suburbs for a long time and haven't had much contact with people.

Are all people outside like this?

Mark got into the Mustang, started it, drove to the outside of the yard, got out, and locked the yard again.

He explained, "The car is parked in a rather remote location, at another car dealership. We need to drive there, but don't worry, it'll only take about ten minutes."

"No problem." Zhang Ailun and the two bulldogs got into the car. The Ford Mustang started, the engine roared, and it shot off with a whoosh.

Zhang Ailun sat in the back seat and instantly felt the thrust. Damn! This car's engine has definitely been heavily modified! The push-back feeling is even stronger than when riding in a sports car.

On the way, we passed another car modification shop. Through the wire fence, I could see a fat man with a thick beard, wearing overalls and smoking a cigarette, repairing a car.

Mark rolled down the car window and stepped on the brake. Zhang Ailun thought he was going to greet someone.

Unexpectedly, Mark held a mouthful of phlegm in his mouth, looked out the window, and exclaimed, "Heh-tui!!"

"Fxxk you!! Bobby!!"

He raised his middle finger at the fat man and greeted him with a friendly salutation.

"Fxxk you to!! Mark!!"

The fat man looked up at Mark in the car, his anger flaring, and without saying a word, he threw a wrench at the Mustang.

It slammed onto the roof of the car with a loud crash, and the rear window of the Mustang shattered instantly.

Zhang Ailun was stunned. Holy crap?

Is this how people in the suburbs greet each other?

(End of this chapter)