I went to my appointment at the local car dealer’s armed with facts, figures, tactics, and trepidation. Earl had provided me with copious information from the Internet; and, after studying all of it, I felt certain buying a new car was akin to being flogged by pirates.
I usually drive my cars into the ground before succumbing to such an assault on my psyche. However, I’d agreed to take a test ride with Blake because there was a relatively new car on the market that looked really sporty, and his dealership had one. My most recent cars would never claim that adjective, and I’ve been thinking I should do “sporty” soon. Or I might never get around to it at all.
Anyway, my two hour meeting with Blake was 180 degrees from the other car purchasing excursions I’ve been on. It was the most upfront, non-pressure, informative session I’ve ever had at a car dealer’s. It made me wonder why things were different this time.
I’ve usually purchased a car in Chicago, where dealerships seem to encourage fast talkers and deal makers who are interested in the sale rather than the relationship. Besides, once the paperwork is done a new car owner is usually handed off to the service department for future contact. In addition, Chicago’s population is probably more mobile, which theoretically means the chance for repeat business is less.
It’s different in a small town. Of course, sales people want to sell their products — whether they are automobiles or air conditioning parts or apples — as much as their Chicago counterparts. But they know the odds are great that they’ll see you again in town, at church, at the market, at high school football, at funerals etc. They know you’ll talk too.
In the end, I ordered a new car from Blake. Direct from the factory too. Everything I wanted on it, manufactured just for me. It won’t arrive for a few weeks yet, but if the rest of the process is as smooth as it’s been so far, I think I’ll write something for the Internet about my positive experience. Maybe pirates are a dying breed.
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