Foster Huntington

@fosterhunting

4 months ago

9,096

180

Rounding the long corner off of the Glenn Jackson Bridge and onto highway 14, I looked in my rear view mirror and spotted a black Rolls Royce Phantom Coupe accelerating around the clover leaf. By the time we merged onto 14, the Rolls had pulled up alongside me and was matching the speed of my e30 station wagon. Cruising with the windows down, I deciphered the unmistakable words, "DO YOU WANT TO SELL?" blared over the hum of the Roll's v12 and the whine of the e30's tiny four cylinder. "MAYBE" I screamed back. "Pull OVER." Downshifting, I let off the gas and coasted on to the shoulder. The e30's cloth Design Edition interior was too nice for my dog, and in all honesty, too nice for me. There's a cruel irony of appreciating and desiring beautiful things only to destroy them once you get your hands on them. Despite adoring this 1993 BMW e30 Touring, I knew that my lifestyle was about as compatible with it as a white shirt at a spaghetti buffet. Coasting to a stop, I put on the hazards, pulled the hood catch and opened the door. "I happen to have cash on me, how much do you want for the car?" Manny, as the early thirties man of Eastern European descent, opened the conversation. After ten minutes of back and forth, Manny and I agreed on a price, and I headed home to grab the title. In a Lowe's Parking lot, I counted stacks of 20's and 50's as a stream of onlookers approached the spectacle of the 6'6, 300 pound man wearing a tall tee, basketball shorts and Gucci loafers standing next to his idling Phantom. "Real estate." "Used Cars." "Property Management." He offered a different explanation for the origins of his wealth to each of the onlookers, answering questions that I too was curious about but I cared not to ask. "It's all here," I said, stuffing the last of the rubber banded stacks into my pockets and crawling out of the backseat. On the ride home, I told the bizarre circumstances to the uber driver. "I didn't make any money," I explained, "but I didn't lose any either. It was a wash" Despite my frankness, he didn't believe me until I pulled a stack of 20s out of my pocket and tipped him cash. These photos are from that day.

Rounding the long corner off of the Glenn Jackson Bridge and onto highway 14, I looked in my rear view mirror and spotted a black Rolls Royce Phantom Coupe accelerating around the clover leaf. By the time we merged onto 14, the Rolls had pulled up alongside me and was matching the speed of my e30 station wagon. Cruising with the windows down, I deciphered the unmistakable words, "DO YOU WANT TO SELL?" blared over the hum of the Roll's v12 and the whine of the e30's tiny four cylinder. "MAYBE" I screamed back. "Pull OVER." Downshifting, I let off the gas and coasted on to the shoulder. The e30's cloth Design Edition interior was too nice for my dog, and in all honesty, too nice for me. There's a cruel irony of appreciating and desiring beautiful things only to destroy them once you get your hands on them. Despite adoring this 1993 BMW e30 Touring, I knew that my lifestyle was about as compatible with it as a white shirt at a spaghetti buffet. Coasting to a stop, I put on the hazards, pulled the hood catch and opened the door. "I happen to have cash on me, how much do you want for the car?" Manny, as the early thirties man of Eastern European descent, opened the conversation. After ten minutes of back and forth, Manny and I agreed on a price, and I headed home to grab the title. In a Lowe's Parking lot, I counted stacks of 20's and 50's as a stream of onlookers approached the spectacle of the 6'6, 300 pound man wearing a tall tee, basketball shorts and Gucci loafers standing next to his idling Phantom. "Real estate." "Used Cars." "Property Management." He offered a different explanation for the origins of his wealth to each of the onlookers, answering questions that I too was curious about but I cared not to ask. "It's all here," I said, stuffing the last of the rubber banded stacks into my pockets and crawling out of the backseat. On the ride home, I told the bizarre circumstances to the uber driver. "I didn't make any money," I explained, "but I didn't lose any either. It was a wash" Despite my frankness, he didn't believe me until I pulled a stack of 20s out of my pocket and tipped him cash. These photos are from that day.