This started at our kitchen table in Birmingham, the way most things in this family do:
over supper, with everybody talking at once. One of us had a brand-new licence, a list
of cars, and a phone full of listings from people we had never met. The other had spent
twenty-five years watching what happens when good people hand money to strangers, and a
strong preference for not doing it in a gas-station parking lot off Highway 280.
Down here a first car is a family occasion. Somebody’s grandmother has an opinion.
Somebody’s uncle knows a man with a truck. And the whole thing gets decided on a
Saturday, in a driveway, with the hood up and the family standing around it. We wanted a
website that worked the way that Saturday works: the kid picks, the parent checks,
everybody goes to look together, and nobody sends a message to a stranger at eleven at
night.
It didn’t exist. So the son decided to build it, and the father agreed to be the
grown-up on the paperwork. That is still the arrangement.