I Was A Used-Car Salesman--Don't Tell My Mother
October, 1977
The nice thing about all this was that there was no way it could fail. I was sitting in the guest chair beside the sales manager's desk, looking straight at him with my faded-blue-denim-colored eyes. I was wearing dun-colored slacks, shoes with laces, a sports coat, a shirt and a real tie. No necklaces, no beads, and I had left all my charm bracelets on the dresser back at the Saharan Motor Hotel in Hollywood. It was the ultimate Los Angeles disguise."Want to be a salesman here?" he wa...
