“I’m selling,” I said.

Miller walked around my truck twice.

He stooped down to inspect the frame rails and pushed his thumb against the rear tires.

“It has the original blue paint,” Miller said.

“How does the transmission feel?”

“Listen here,” I said.

“My father bought this truck off the showroom floor in seventy-eight, and I’ve changed the oil every three thousand miles since.”

“I can give you eleven hundred dollars,” Miller said.