Buying a new car is a lot like anticipating a prison rape.
The tension, the waiting, the certainty in the back of your head, that at any moment, things are going to get so out of control.
The best description I can come up with is that it is like a full bodied ass-clench.
The kind you only understand if you have have the flu for 2 weeks.
But the cars are so shiny!
You get on the car lot and it is almost hypnotic.
And here is a basic secret, any car you test drive is better than your car.
Because you hate your car.
You might put up a brave face and tell everyone how much you will miss your ol’ beauty.
But you can’t wait to be rolling in something new.
And the worse part is, the dealership and their salesmen know this.
Everyone that goes to buy a car figures they have the system beat, and they are going to work this dealership over.
If this sounds familiar, its because this is what every friend you know that is going to Vegas says.
“I have a plan, and I am going to beat them at their own game.”
Let me tell you this.
I used to sell cars for a living.
And the car salesman prays that you have that attitude.
Because a customer that believes he is holding all the cards is the easiest to close.
Dispute this if you will.
But I was a car salesman, and I am still nervous.
I figure thats healthy.
But back to the cars.
I come from an American car family.
Dad was a Master Transmission mechanic for Ford.
I like Ford.
My brothers drive foreign.
Theres a little tension there.
I miss my first few cars.
Due to my dad’s transmission business, I had a constant supply of old beaters, usually Mercury’s, for my first few cars.
And I loved the beasts.
They were huge, ugly and sucked up gas like drunks on a binder.
But, and here is the main point, when a beast of a car dies, your tears dry up quickly.
And you move on.
But, the time of the beast is past.
And it is time for something nice.
Its an odd quirk of mine, but I will not buy new.
So a late model shiny car is whats needed.
The first car I am shown is a Volkswagon.
On a Ford Dealership? I am so glad my father is not here.
It is nice. Really nice.
But Farfagnugen is not even a word.
So the answer is no.
The next car is a PT Cruiser with next to no miles on it.
I may be in love.
And then we go into the office.
That is where the whole thing moves into a prison rape cloud of tension hanging over me.
And a wicked case of swamp ass sets in.
But in just the few years since I sold cars, they have wildly streamlined the whole process.
Ford is gentler than others, so in record time, with a minimum of financial/rectal discomfort, I am driving home in my new car.
The only down side is that, as I leave the dealership, I pass my old car.
They wouldn’t take the old piece of shit as a trade in.
How pathetic is that?