This week, we had a guy refuse $10,000 for a $500 car, a 20-year-old fly in from Miami to buy his first supercar without ever driving one, my dad laying down the rule that keeps this place standing, and a masked customer who didn’t want paperwork. 

A guy pulls up in a 2016 Hyundai Sonata with 137,000 miles. It’s got a cracked windshield, and it’s completely paid off. Let me walk you through how this goes down:

Noticing the obvious, I ask, “You trying to get into something today?”

He goes, “No.”

Not “maybe.” Not “I’m looking.” Just straight up, “No.” He goes into how he can’t afford a car right now, so I try to help him out.

“What if I gave you five grand for your car?”

He looked at me in defiance, “No.”

“Ok, what about six?”

“No.”

“Seven?”

Again, he replied, “No.”

“Eight?”

You probably could have guessed it….“No.”

“Ten?”

Now he’s laughing because he thinks I’m giving him a sales pitch. Finally, he flat out tells me, “George, you’re not gonna do that. It’s not even worth it, bro.”

And he’s absolutely right. That car is worth $500 on a good day.

I say, “Give him 10 grand. Let’s go.” Dead serious.

He still refuses and goes on to say, “I’m a loyal subscriber. I watch every video. I just can’t afford it right now.”

I tell him, “If you ever want to flirt with the idea, come inside and we’ll figure out what the payment looks like.”

Still the answer is no. And honestly? Respect.

A 20-year-old who flies in from Miami to buy a Belize Blue McLaren 720S.

He makes his money from e-commerce. Perfumes and cologne. Dad shakes his hand. “I like people young like you and they know how to make money.” 

He’d never even driven a supercar before. Never sat in one. No test-drive history. He just saw the car on our website and said, that’s it. And in that color, everyone is going to see that car and know exactly whose it is.

He tells me he’s been in Miami for weeks — saw every Huracán, every F8, SVJs everywhere — and not a single 720S. 

He’s shipping it straight back to Miami, but the deal started the right way: Thursday night, 7 p.m., calls in and Jenny picks up the phone. No games. No runaround. Just trust, start to finish.

Kid’s first supercar. Big move. Earned the right way. 

Dad always tells it how it is: this business doesn’t have many honest dealerships. And if we’re going to be one of the few, we have to protect it every. Single. Day.

He says honesty isn’t about being nice — it’s about protecting yourself. Because just because you do the right thing doesn’t mean that others will. The only way to stay safe long-term is to be so clean that nobody can come back later and say you hid something, twisted something, or played games.

Then he laid down the rule that runs everything here: nobody is bigger than J&S.

Not the owner. Not the employees. Not him. Not me. Not anybody.

J&S is the customer relationship. J&S is the phone that rings. J&S is the problem that has to be solved. Even if you’re on vacation, even if you’re off, even if you’re not in the building.

The customer calls J&S, and J&S has to handle it. Always.

That’s the standard. That’s what we’re protecting.

This guy walks in masked up, straight energy, no small talk. Says his M5 is already cooked. Too many safety systems, too smooth, too polite. He doesn’t want comfort. He wants something raw.

I ask him the only question that matters: “cats or no cats?”

He goes, “I want the dogs.”

So we show him something that’s basically an M5 on steroids. Loud. Angry. No filters. The kind of car that doesn’t apologize for anything.

He loves it. But he comes at me with a “I can’t do no type of paperwork.” Cash is the only way he can buy this car. Cash him out and we’re good.

But cash alone doesn’t end the conversation. Now we’re talking bulk. Two cars. I tell him “You want me to cash you out? 375.”

He demands 350. Phone calls get made. My toughest customer gets pulled into the negotiation like it’s a setup.

Back and forth. He claims I’m asking 100k over MSRP, low balls me 340, and we finally land it at 360 and close it out.

As he’s leaving, I tell him the truth: he needs PPF and he needs to chill before he gets pulled over. Apparently everyone knows how he drives. You don’t miss the ski mask.

Crazy kid. Fearless. Probably too fearless. I wanted to go for a drive with him. But then I remembered..  I don’t want to get pulled over. And I want to make it home for dinner.