I've been spending a lot of Saturdays walking the car lots. (Not Sundays, because as I've learned recently, Texas has a lot of helpful, time-saving, not-at-all-annoying Blue Laws, per religious reasons, obvs.) Car lots are like blind dates. You don't know who is going to come out and meet you, what his manners will be like, if he'll be a gentleman and sit in the back so your boyfriend can sit in front, or be a total ass and declare pompously that he only sits in front! Always! So der, geet een dee bahk! (Talking to you, Park Cities VW) If you're lucky, he'll be helpful and pretend to give a shit and impress you with knowledge of the car and say you can drive it from here til Tuesday to make sure you like it. He'll even look you in the eye and assume the car is for you and that you and your purse are the ones paying for it. If you're not so fortunate, he'll do nothing but insult you and your intelligence. He'll tell you that you're wasting his time by wanting to test-drive a car (is this not part of the car-buying process???) and to come back on a week night. (Again, talking to you, Park Cities VW) Let me tell you, there was not another soul on the car lot the Saturday I decided to waste that asshole's time. And I basically told him so. Damn that felt good.
You shake hands, swap names, and then you do the exchange of info, the shpeel about yourself, what you're looking for: Small, sporty, Euro or Japanese (no Fords or Chevys, I'd like to keep my image un-American thanks). Should prefer to blast indie music as opposed to hip-hop, pop or country, likes my lead foot, hates the speed limit of 60, will be okay at night being parked in a car-port, doesn't require ultra premium super unleaded, must love dogs and so on.
After that, you take a spin around the block, the guy tells you how to turn the radio on, shows you the fancy shit you don't care about while you're wondering if the tiny engine will do it for you (TWSS). Finally, you pull back into the dealership and it happens. The awkward silence. Soooo, who's gonna make the first move? Will it be the sales guy, asking if you'd like to talk price and trade-in options? Yes, yes it will. So put your running shoes on and get your excuse ready, it's time to go across the street to the next dealership.
You do this to several car guys, and they all do the same thing afterwards. They keep calling. For weeks. "Joe from Volkswagenland, just thinking 'bout that purdy GTI you were interested in!" Sure, it's their job. They have no choice. Must. Keep. Calling. And you, you must keep ignoring.
The exception to this repeated calling is when they know they've failed. Like the dude from fancy-schmancy Sewell who tried to tell me that the almost-new Volvo C30 with only 6k miles on it was a great deal, despite the fact I instantly pointed out a two-inch crack in the taillight, a missing plastic handle on the trunk cover and a corner on the fender that was sticking out. He actually pushed the fender back into place in front of me and was like, "All better!" I'm sorry, is this Sewell "Obsessed with Service" Automotive, or a used car lot in the ghetto? He knew he was going home alone that night. No sale for you!
Before I even started, I had narrowed it down to three or four car models. I don't think I was wasting anyone's time but my own. I also wasn't about to buy the first car I drove, just because the brakes worked. That car sucked. And so on I went to the next dealership. After enough dealers, I was no longer able to speak. I literally couldn't think of a decent response because I'd be lying if I said I didn't know much about the car, yet I couldn't just be all, "Well your Mini is the fifth Mini I've driven, but none are good enough." Then I'd be outed as that Dealership Whore. I guess this is the art of car buying. Acting dumb, keeping quiet, having no shame in walking across the street to the next dealer, looking for shit the dealer hasn't fixed and attempting to not pay full sticker price.
It's been fun, if not a challenge and fairly stressful. I'll keep you posted with the results. And an ode to Cabrio, of course.
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