Zoom. Zoom.

"So what do I have to do again?" asks Candace over the phone.
"Just act like you're interested in buying a car" I say.

I have to test drive a car for a school assignment, and as I don't drive myself, I've nominated my friend Candace to help me out. I've committed to the process of getting her to lie for my sake for the past couple weeks and for a girl who used to sneak out of her house so her mom wouldn't see what she was wearing, she's fairly resistant to the whole idea.

To be quite fair, Candace isn't the only one who is worried about a little lying. When I open the door to the Mazda Dealership my heart starts to beat in tight little bursts and I half expect the words "it's a school project" to race from my mouth as we greet Denis, our sales associate. But Candace speaks up, stepping quickly into the role of twenty-something looking for a sporty new ride.

"I want to test drive a Mazda Proteger 5" she says, completely skipping over what I assume would be the traditional meander and a little him-hawing.
"Used, you mean?" replies Denis. "Because they don't make 'em anymore"
"Err... yes. Used. I knew that." Candace and I try to move right through this crack in our first attempt at lying, and I start to wonder if the whole lying thing might not be so easy. Maybe we should have gone over our stories Ocean's Eleven style.

Denis, however, doesn't seemed fazed and we follow him outside. He's wearing beige dockers, and a well worn green golf shirt - what I assume to be a fairly standard outfit in car sales. His dark gray hair is streaked with white making him look genuine and, therefore, trustworthy. Probably a helpful trait to have in sales. We stop at a silver hatchback. Candace and I circle around it, investigating, while Denis tells us the details.

"You drive the Honda?" he asks. Candace's car is a 2003. The same year as the car we're looking at. I quickly realize we've stumbled onto another flaw in our poorly laid plan. If Candace owns a 2003, why would she be looking to buy a 2003?
"Ya. I like to change every couple years. I get bored" she offers as explanation and Denis seems to except the idea.
"You just get gas?" he asks. Now my heart is speeding up the tight little bursts. Why is he asking so many questions? Why does it matter if we just got gas or not? "Cause your tank is open." Oh.

We get into the car. It's all black, shiny and sleek. Since it's used, the new car smell is gone and replaced by what seems to be a complete absence of smell. As Candace pulls away she notices the warm hum of the engine and nothing else. Another absence cars makers seem to be capable of.

"Zoom. It's the only word for it" Denis slouches in the back sit, confident in his product and confident he has correctly pegged Candace as the 'Zoom Zoom' type. He's right. She taps the breaks when she notices the speedometer, but her zip over the speed limit is acknowledged with a mischievous grin. As we reach a corner she slows down even more.

"No. This car's made to step into corners" says Denis. With Denis' encouragement she 'steps into' the corner. The car sticks to the road like superglue and inside it feels like another bit of engineered nothingness. Candace's smile turns to a grin. Denis slouches further into his seat.

She plays with the pick-up as we return to the dealership, tickled at how quickly it will jump forward on her command. I open and close compartments and fiddle with knobs trying to seem critical.

"I think I'd get a lot of speeding tickets."
"You get used to it after a couple hours on the road."

I ask Denis if he ever gets nervous during test-drives. The answer is an assured no. He's done it so many times. We are clearly just another time.

After we get back to the dealership it's all thank yous and the exchanging of the business card. Candace and I hop back into the Honda (after she shuts the open gas tank.)

"I really like that car" says Candace.

We, clearly, didn't get away scot free. Our little white lie might end up costing Candace $15,000. Not to mention a couple speeding tickets.