After almost an entire year of saving, worry, back and forth, and dealing with shitty people who don't follow through, Mike got the official word that he could buy his 1952 Buick for the price he offered.
I had no idea he even made the call we knew would be the final word whether good or bad last night when he ran into the kitchen and lifted me high into the air screaming, "We got the car!". I also didn't know he ripped my pants until he calmed down and said, "Sorry, I ripped your pants when I picked you up."
Screw the pants, we just got a 1952 Buick.
So Mike is going to have it towed to its new home (our home) the day after we get back from Disney. Screw a day of rest after six days in Disney - we have to spend four hours in the car then push a steel box up a long driveway.
Well, this should keep him quiet for a while. I hope the next time he decides to drop several grand it will be on something much smaller that fits on my finger.