UNscrew You, Ron Goode Toyota

For most of my elementary school years, my dad sold advertising space for the Christian Science Monitor and its various incarnations. His job was to convince other people that they could sell their products in his magazine. It strikes me as somewhat ironic then, that at home he seemed to loath any intrusion of advertising in his house. Cereal was dumped out of its advertising ridden box into a plastic jar, toys had their logos covered up. There would be no decals on cars. He wasn't quite puritanical about it, but he came pretty close. Maybe it wasn't ironic. At work, people were paying him, or at least his magazine, to advertise their products; at home, however, the Cheerios box on the table, or the free t-shirt he was given, was an imposition. Maybe he would have felt better about it if General Mills was cutting him a check once a month for the use of his breakfast table. I never knew how much of this had rubbed off on me until the other day, when I noticed that there was a "Ron Goode Toyota" license plate frame on my car. I didn't buy my car at Ron Goode Toyota. I had simply brought it in to have the brakes replaced, which is what one does after 80,000 miles (the equivalent of driving cross country almost 27 times). They had fixed my brakes, and had gotten paid. I drove my car out of their garage, and went home. Only a few days later did I notice that those sneaky little buggers had slipped two, count 'em two, little "Ron Goode Toyota" license plate frames onto my car. I felt violated. This was my car and I didn't like donating my space to. This evening, I unscrewed the license plate covers. There is little doubt in my mind that the next time I have my car serviced at Ron Goode, I will find another frame on my plates, which I will take off and discard. Or, I suppose, I could ask them to pay me for the space. A 40% discount on my next brake job would be nice. Like my father, I don't mind advertising for people, as long as they pay me for it.