Saturday, August 2, 2008
Buying The Dreaded Car
Today, we purchased a new car, to be exact, a Honda CRV in a lovely shade of glacial blue. I'm happy about the new wheels but the process seemed to take all the fun out of the experience. The shysters hawking their wares are nothing better than charlatans of yesteryear, selling fake potions and pills to the desperate. Let's face it, if you live anywhere other than Manhattan, you need a car to transport not only yourself, but all the things we need to sustain life...groceries, dirty/clean laundry, dogs, cats and especially roadside finds of any type. Those are what I am most looking forward to since I am somewhat of a junk connoisseur and can tell the value of something a mile off in the distance. I can see Vic wincing right now, exclaiming, "More junk? What about all the stuff in the garage and basement!" My response is my usual reply, "Hey, it was cheap and wait till you see what I can make of it." The argument continues. (see Junk Collecting blog).
Back to the car salesmen...ugh, what an ugly career path and an even more grotesque way to live your life. It's not like your dealing with the sharpest knives in the drawer. These people are trained to screw customer's over in the name of the dealership. They lie and cheat to simply make a buck...not an honest buck, but a buck at your expense. There are those sneaky hidden costs, like destination fees and administrative options that really get me going. What the hell is a destination fee? In reality, it's to transport the car from the front lot to the rear lot, where mere brain surgeons remove factory installed protective plastic and simonize an already spotless vehicle. Ridiculous! Dealing with pocket protector man after pocket protector man, you start to feel beaten down and broken, but just when you think the end is near and you can't take another fabulous fib, they sell the car out from under you and leave you for dead. Precisely what happened today. The funny thing is, after three failed dealership deals, and three, "that's my favorite color car ever," thoughts, we ended up finding the perfect car with the original color we wanted at a great price. The reason...only because my husband got knocked around by these vultures and their endless masochistic behavior until he finally woke the f*&*(& up. He took all his knocks and bruises and used them against the automotive tools, kicking their butts with one fell swoop. Vic became educated on the particular lesson of sleaze and then used a power punch back at them, leaving the salesmen in check...and with one smooth move, when their Queen had fallen, the hubby went in for the final blow. Instead of bumping the King off, we zapped the car right out from under their bloody paws, finding solace in our small but gallant victory.
The car will be in our possession next week. Vic's hard and valiant efforts paid off. God, I hope my VW lasts another 10 years. I simply don't have the stomach to handle this and next time, my head will be on the guillotine. I think I'll switch to pubic transportation. Somehow it seems more humane.