What Is Champagne White and Pink Chiffon and holds 11 crates of eggs?

Why, a 1960 DeSoto, of course. I thought everyone knew. The DeSoto was one of those long, luxury cars of the '60's with the fins and push-button electro-glide transmission that was designed to move families around the burgeoning urban landscape. Which is why my cousins and I were a little surprised when my uncle, a Montana dry-land wheat farmer, drove one up the driveway to the little ranch house we lived in near Roberts, Montana, one sunny morning.

We had expected a new pickup, or at least a newer pickup that could carry stuff. Like crates of eggs, for example. Something functional. Something you'd use on a farm. Something you could get dirty. Something that was already a little dirty. The DeSoto was so clean we weren't allowed to sit in it. Even though it had bubble wrap seat covers. Not your typical ranch vehicle.

The Big 'Why' was the focus of the dinner conversation that night. Why the DeSoto and not a more practical vehicle? That was when my uncle John introduced us all to the art of finding the hidden value in a transaction.

"The trucks they had were overpriced," he explained, "And the salesman wouldn't deal on them." But the DeSoto, sitting like a pink and white blemish on his truck-filled lot, now THAT he'd deal on. Uncle John was not an immediate buyer until he got an idea. First, he negotiated a fair price. He didn't drive the vehicle, didn't even say he liked it. He negotiated FIRST the price and terms. Next, he drove the vehicle. But WHERE he drove it was as important as how much he was willing to pay for it. He drove it down to a local grocery store where he had just delivered 11 crates of eggs, all he could fit in his old truck without spilling eggs on to the highway. He and the grocer took the eggs and fit them in to the DeSoto. It was a nice fit. All 11 crates went inside a weather-protected interior complete with heater, radio, and push-button electro-glide transmission. Perfect egg car. And now the rest of the story.

Eggs are important to a farmer. They bring in much-needed money. To the rest of us, they provide an important food source. I could go on, but you get the idea. Uncle John bought the DeSoto not just because it could hold 11 crates of eggs, although that was an important selling feature. He bought it for the much more important goal of pleasing the egg delivery person; his wife.

For years she had struggled loading the egg crates in to the old pickup bed, trying to start the old truck, heater didn't work well, rough ride, balky old stick shift, no radio. She hated it. Finally, she told him he had to deliver the eggs.

The DeSoto put her back in the egg delivery business. In fact, she loved delivering the eggs after which she'd stop in at the local cafe for a cup of coffee and her pals would admire the DeSoto and whisper about how well Uncle John seemed to be doing on his little farm.

Uncle John understood the intrinsic value of the DeSoto completely. As I grew older I came to understand his viewpoint when I bought my first house. It was cosmetically in need. I thought it was too expensive. I wanted more for my money. But at the end of the day I bought it. Why? Because my brand new wife said she could make it into a great little home, which she did. The feeling we both had of accomplishment and pride in our home far outweighed mere financial calculations. It elevated us to a new level of citizenship really. We began to take pride in how our home looked, the lawn became my domain, we compared notes with and got to know our neighbors and watched one another's homes when we went on our respective vacations. I trusted the area when I had to leave my new wife and travel for work. And guess what? I made money on the investment when we sold and bought our second home.

What's champagne white and pink chiffon and can hold 11 crates of eggs?

I think you know.