Baltasar hated the subway.

He hated cramming himself into the jam packed metallic tube. There was no point in trying to fit his shell on the tiny, plastic seats. He always had to stand, while avoiding banging his head on the handrails, and also avoiding the furtive and sometimes not so furtive glances people would throw him as it filled up. Mostly, people minded their own business, perhaps in no small amount to his grim expression every time he had to get on one. Sometimes, he'd notice someone's eyes would go wide upon first seeing him lumber into the wagon. And usually that would be that. Understandable, he imagined. Not many tortoises in Huntsville. Sometimes however, they'd open wide a second time, a good deal later.

They know who I am.

It was starting to happen more and more often, people recognizing him from TV and posters and while it was to be expected, he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it. Weird, was as best a word as he could think of.

The reason he was there, however was because, once again, his truck had failed to start. The car had been his father's and, while beaten up and worn down, the old Nissan Navara was as comfortable and spacious a vehicle as any tortoise could ask for, as long as you pulled the seat all the way back, that is. He kept paying for repair after repair and took as much care of it as he could, and in return, it kept breaking down on him at the worst possible moments.

He had already gotten an earful last time he was late for practice, not only from the coach but also from his two notoriously "articulate" teammates, John Stoat and Wendy Brown, who had dubbed his truck the "Rust bucket", and the "Busted old piece of sh-" respectively.

His dislike of public transportation, became the straw that broke the camel’s back. An expression he had, ironically, learned from his teammate, Hassan Kamal.

So on that day, after having left his truck at the mechanic, whom by now knew him by his nickname, Baltasar did something drastic: He got in a taxi instead.

He also visited a car dealership.

The place had turned up in most of his online searches as one of the largest in the area, so he figured it had to be a decent place to start, get an idea for what he wanted and mull over, at least until his truck came back from the mechanic...

Upon entering, he was almost blinded by the the near pristine whiteness of the locale’s walls and floors and the large display windows that let in the Alabama sun, which still shone bright and relatively warm despite the time of year. One of the benefits of life in the South...

"Hello, how may I help you today, sir?"

Baltasar had to look around before he noticed the tiny field mouse smiling up at him. She wore a pair of perfectly pressed black trousers and an impeccable white shirt, holding a clipboard in her well manicured hands. She looked so young that were it not for the uniform, Baltasar would have had a hard time believing she worked there.

"Uh, I’m just here to look around..."

"No problem! But if I can give you a tip, the bigger ones are over there" she winked, smiling at up at the tortoise and pointing with her pen towards the section of the store that held the larger models.

"Thank you. Yeah I guess I’ll start over there, huh?" He tried offering a weak smile of his own, and walked over to a large Ford Excursion on display, eyeing it briefly before going over to a jet black GMC Yukon and then to a another car, and then another, and then back to the first. Always looking at the overall appearance, some of the nicer looking models were conspicuously lacking any readily visible price tag on them, Baltasar didn't linger long around those.

The more cars he saw however, the more Baltasar became aware he had absolutely no idea what he was looking for. He hadn’t really planned on buying anything, what was he even looking for? It always struck him as odd how knowledgeable everyone else around him seemed to be about cars. Being able to identify not only the make, but the model, by sight. Quite frankly, he had little care for how loud an engine could "roar" or how much supposed horse power it could muster or how fast it could accelerate.

"I just need something to get me from A to B, damn it."

"Having trouble there, sir.?"

It was the small field mouse again. Had he said that out loud?

"If you'll pardon me saying, it's hard not to notice you moving from one car to another in the store. If you'll tell me what you're looking for, I'm sure I can help".

"I just need something to get me from one place to another" Baltasar said for the first time, he hoped.

The mouse looked pensive for a moment, her eyes going over the large reptile in a way that felt almost unnerving. Like he was being appraised, though she spoke up in a warm, friendly tone.

"Hmm, well you seem to me like someone who needs a lot from their car, and you’ve already made a great choice with this one in front of you, this SUV is an excellent model, seven litre V8 Diesel engine up to two hundred and fifty horse power. Automatic. You can easily take this one anywhere you want…”

The diminutive saleswoman continued to describe the car’s properties in great detail despite half of it going over the chelonian’s head, that is, until the price was mentioned.

"... and at the moment this one is on sale starting at 52,000$"

That was enough to snap Baltasar back into the room. Fify two thousand? Really? He had just been paid fifty -seven- thusand last week!. He could… afford this! Actually... he could totally afford this!

His look of pleasant surprise was quickly erased, when he reminded himself the car was still obscenely expensive, just that he now also made obscene amounts of money. Still…

“Uh, starting at?”

The mouse smiled and gave a small nod her eyes trained on Baltasar’s.

“Depending on trim it can go up to around 65,000$”

He gave the car a closer look, peering into the front seat. It certainly looked more spacious than his old one.

"It's quite roomy huh? why don't you try getting in?" she said in a friendly tone.

"Can I do that?"

"Sure thing!" she beamed and pulled the door open invitingly.

Baltasar approached the car, however before getting in, he felt under the seat for the familiar lever that controlled its position and let the seat slide all the way to the back. Given his size and species it was something he always did before entering. Only then did he climb in, trying to keep his shell from damaging the plastic cover on the seats.

It was… surprisingly comfortable, actually.

His pleased expression must have not gone unnoticed, since the mouse piped up once more: "We don't get turtles often here, but I’m guessing that shell of yours means space is always at a premium, huh?" she smiled.

"Tortoise" corrected baltasar, still somewhat bewildered as he reached for the lever again to re-adjust the seat. "And yeah, it does"

"Oh sorry! Like I said we don’t get much of either. But if space and comfort are what you’re looking for... hmm" The mouse remained pensive for a good moment, tapping her pen against the clipboard.

"Yes?"

"Come with me" she smiled, and walked towards another car on display.

Baltasar almost didn't want to get out, not yet. But he did so, gently closing the door and following her. Did rodent tails wag when they were happy? Hers certainly seemed to, he thought.

She walked over to a massive Ford pickup near the center of the brightly lit room, one which Baltasar had so far avoided. While it was easily the largest car in the showroom, it was clearly one of the priciest.

"I think you'll find this one to be just what you're looking for" she said and opened the door.

"Went straight for the top, huh? And no mention of the engine or horsepower this time?" Baltasar asked, as he approached. Head tilted slightly and brow raised.

"Trust me, you want an A to B getting machine? This is one of the best" her smile never faltering. This is our Ford 450.

Baltasar instinctively reached to adjust the seat when the saleswoman stopped him.

"That won’t be necessary"

Baltasar looked incredulous, but complied and carefully let his shell fall into the seat before swiveling the rest of his body inside. It… fit. Wait, how? Had the seat already been pulled back?

"I thought you’d like it! Gonna take a wild guess and say you aren't used to actually fitting comfortably in a car, guy your size and all?" she grinned a perfectly white smile, even her incisors were a perfect pearlescent hue.

"That obvious, huh?" asked Baltasar, attention now placed on the myriad dials and settings on the dashboard.

"Oh and the car comes with a full climate control option. There’s even a built in thermostat that allows our more temperature sensitive clients to choose a setting they find more to their liking. And of course it comes with a navigation system, bluetooth and premium leather seats. Designed for durability and comfort."

"That does sound... nice" Baltasar said cautiously, half listening to what she was saying.

"Here how about this" she pressed a sort of dongle to the cars steering wheel and the display came to life. One of those keyless cars, he imagined. "Why don’t you play around with the settings, get a feel for it. And if you need any more help please let me know." she said smiling and closed the door before walking away to talk to another client.

Inside, the noise and bustle from the showroom was silenced and the large reptile found himself carefully stretching out his limbs. Noticing his elbows didn't knock against the sides of the car, and his legs actually felt supported by the seat, rather than just dangle in the air while his shell took up all the space.

There was something he had to know however. He reached down to the lever under the seat and, to his great surprise, it slid backward. For once, he he didn't have to partially pull in his limbs. He actually had a hard time reaching the wheel and pedals. It was insane. Working the seat forward again, he turned his attention to the lit up display. He had seen some models with dashboards that looked as if they'd be more at home on a space shuttle, let alone a car. But this one was much simpler than he expected. He liked it. At a glance he could make out what most of the buttons and settings were for. And even the inevitable touchscreen almost all models had nowadays didn't look terribly complicated, heck the GPS might even come in useful when cruising around...

Cruising around? What was he even thinking? Since when did he ever "cruise around"? He didn't need any of this. He shook his head, looking at the inverted price sticker on the windshield: Starting price 75,000$.

Was it really that much money? Well, yes, yes it was. But it was a mere fraction of his paycheck. Heck, four weeks worth! But he certainly didn't need any of the fancy functions like that climate control device, did he? Nor the premium leather seats. Well, no but it would certainly be a nice change of pace to have a car designed for him in mind, rather than always going for something less than ideal…

He really, really wanted this car.

He, sort of needed it as well, didn't he? After all his old truck would surely just break down again. A reliable car was something of a necessity. And… damn it, would it hurt so much if it was also a very, very nice one as well? And the chair was just so damn comfortab-

A tap on the glass almost made him jump. It was the saleswoman, with that unfaltering smile, it eerily reminded him of Roderick’s. He opened the door hastily and stumbled out. How long had he been in there?

"Well, how did you like it?" she beamed at him.

"It certainly is something" he said, rubbing the back of his head “I really like it but… Uh… the price…”

"Say no more! If you’ll come with me and let me show you one more model sir, this one might be what you’re after"

Wanting to put some distance between him and the Ford, Baltasar once again followed her to a car that he actually recognized. A Nissan Navara, just like his old one, well a newer model of course. The price was much lower than the last one too. Still expensive of course but it was good deal less so. “This could be it!” He thought to himself.

The moment he tried to climb in however, his shell clacked noisily against the frame.

"Damn! Sorry!" he quickly turned, hoping he hadn't scratched the paint, or at least, hoping no one noticed.

"It’s fine sir, no damage done!" said the mouse, not really looking at the frame but eyes still trained on Baltasar, encouraging him to get in.

Baltasar found he had to pull the seat back again before he could fit in. Almost instantly, his interest in the car plummeted. Still, he worked himself inside and adjusted his shell as best he could.

It was still a very nice car, of course. But… well, alright then, what were the hard numbers here?

Baltasar tried for a moment to do the arithmetic in his head but stopped almost as soon as he had started. A single month's worth of pay could easily cover for the price of any car in that place, brand spanking new. And was there even a point in wondering about fuel economy? What were a couple dollars saved here and there? What possible difference could it make when he was on a three million dollar contract? Wasn’t that pointlessly splitting hairs? If he had any, that is.

It just didn't feel right. This was wrong wasn't it? Just throwing money away. But then again, it was an investment, right? Surely after this he wouldn't need one in years. So it made sense to make sure it was a good one, right?

As he turned to look at this car's dashboard he found himself missing the brightly lit display of the other one, and this one didn't seem to have that climate control feature. And this chair was only barely an upgrade from his old car, whereas the other one...

Baltasar briefly considered if he wasn't playing straight into that little mouse’s game. Did she know who he was or how much money he actually had? It didnt seem like it. Though she had only shown him the most expensive cars on the floor, it was her job to sell these things, after all. And what game though? All she had done was point him towards some models. She had barely done anything at all. He was the one agonizing over it right there, in that ugly car.

"Is she conning me into buying that bigger one?" He had to see for himself. He climbed out of the car, careful about hitting the frame with his shell again.

The field mouse was busy with another client at the time, thought she saw him and smiled, gesturing that she'd be with him in a minute. He nodded and took another look around the room. Glancing again at the black Ford-450. In what he hoped was a casual manner, he walked back over to it. Devouring it with his eyes.

It was such a nice car, and it would be such little a hassle to get it. Even considering the the listed price would shoot up a few notches once it came to actually buying it… I wouldn't even make a dent in his finances.

“Okay, Baltasar, time to make up your mind.”

He tugged at the handle and the door opened. Glancing back at the busy saleswoman, he slid himself in again. Marveling at how easy it was to get inside and how the ceiling wasn't banging at his head. He stretched his neck and found he could keep it comfortably straight. There was no need to withdraw it. He tested the pedals with his large feet, reaching them easily, knees no longer bent any more than they had to be. He let himself sink into the seat, gripping the steering wheel in his large hands and closed his eyes.

Would it be so bad if he got this one? Who was he even asking that question to? Himself? Had he not earned this? He had made it into the FBA after all, and he had certainly proven himself as one of the better rookies of that season and was currently in one of the best teams in the league. He was, quite literally, one of the best basketball players on the planet. And he had worked very hard to get where he was. If that didn't mean he could have a nice car, what did?

He took a deep breath and then let it out again, reluctantly getting out of the car and gently closing the door behind him. He needed to find that little mou-

"Sorry about that! Need any more help?" came her chipper voice just from behind him.

"This one" he said. Trying to sound as casual as he could.

She smiled and pulled up her clipboard, scribbling something down on it "You sure? There are other more affordable models I can show you if you’d like, they aren't quite as large of course but I’m sure we can find some-"

“No, I want this one.” Baltasar mouthed the words slowly, as if he wanted to be sure he was actually saying them. “So uh, who would I go to to discuss uh… everything else?”

She offered him one of her practiced smiles If she was happy over potentially selling one of the most expensive cars on the floor in the simplest way possible, she didn't show it.

"Just come over here and we can help you iron out all the details. Are you sure there isn't anything else you'd like to know before?”

Baltasar paused for a moment.

“Does the Platinum model come in red?”

A half hour later, Baltasar was driving out of the dealership in his brand new Ford-450. An absolute beast of a machine that he knew damn well he would probably never use to its full potential, but something about just knowing he had it, made him grin.

He took in every sensation as he drove. Barely able to take his attention off the GPS and the dashboard or the feel of the huge cushioned seats, even that “new car” smell. He read somewhere that it was deliberately made to smell good. Myth or not, he didn’t care, it smelled great. He noted the temperature outside was a chilly and humid 8 degrees, whereas inside it was now a delightfully dry 19. He felt the vibrations of huge diesel engine through his shell, and marveled at how responsive the steering wheel was, compared to his old truck. How little he had to touch the accelerator to pick up speed and just how fast he could go if he wanted to. Maybe this was what those car nuts meant when they talked about "feeling your car" or whatever. It felt good.

At a stoplight he plugged in his phone and set it to some music just as the lights turned green, the car’s surround sound speakers came alive to the tune of "Sweet Home Alabama". For the first time in a long time, T-Balt’s grin burst into a hearty laugh. He shook his head, and drove on.