Sometimes, you just gotta take a stand...
Showing posts with label car. Show all posts
Showing posts with label car. Show all posts
Monday, September 6, 2010
Sunday, August 15, 2010
The New Car Story - Both Versions
Pin It
Undoubtedly, many of you are wondering just what happened in regards to the letter I sent a few weeks ago to a certain car dealership, and what the subsequent results were to it.
To answer this question there are two ways in which I could go about it…the long way, or the short way.
For those of you who are in a rush I will provide you with the ‘cliff notes’ version – as well as the unabridged version for those of you with inquiring minds that really just want to know.
Pick your poison...
Reader’s Digest Version:
I received an apology from the manager on duty the night I’d gone in - as well as one from the regional manager. I was sold the car I wanted for a price that was a little bit more than I wanted to pay, but significantly less than what they were originally asking. Everyone went away as better people and lived happily ever after.
Full Version:
As you know, a particular manager at a local car dealership treated me somewhat badly. It was when I was driving home that I decided that I’d not return to that business. However, the next morning I felt that I needed to make my voice be heard. I try to call attention to others when they go out of their way with exceptional service so that their efforts are not unsung – it was at this point that I knew that I should also do this when superior service is just not the case. I sat down and spent nearly an hour writing and rewriting a letter I would send in. After sharing it with a few friends (as well as my dad) I emailed the letter to my sister so that she could fax to the dealership.
Three days went by, and I heard nothing.
It was mid-afternoon on Monday that my cell phone rang. It was the dealership. I was promptly issued an apology – much to my surprise and relief. After all, I really did want that particular vehicle they had, but I’d made the decision that I wasn’t going to purchase it if it wasn’t going to be on my terms.
I was told that the letter I’d sent in had made it to the desk of the regional manager and he wanted to ‘make this right.’ I was then asked if I would be able come in to discuss another deal; I opted to wait a day to make sure that this was something I really felt like doing. I told the salesman that I’d come in tomorrow. So it was on a Tuesday afternoon after a riveting day of summer school I found myself driving to the dealership.
I’ll be honest, I was a bit nervous. After all, today could either be the day I got the car I wanted, or I’d be back to searching – something I’d been doing for several months so it wasn’t too terrible.
The same salesman I’d already worked with, Rien (pronounced Ryan), met me at the door with a smile and I was informed that my offer was ‘nearly there’ but not quite.
A new deal was worked, which was met by both parties in mutual agreement – I’d gone up by $1,000 and they’d come down $3,500 from what I’d originally been told by the manager on duty that particular night before I wrote the letter.
I felt that this was fair.
The regional manager came down from his office. He introduced himself. He apologized for how I’d been treated the night before. I was impressed.
Soon after this, another individual approached me as I was shooting a quick text message. When I looked up I immediately recognized him as the manager on duty when I’d come in the previous week. He extended his hand and apologized, saying that sometimes he needed a check on his behavior - and how he doesn’t realize from time to time how some of the things he says comes out. He told me that he had no hard feelings for the letter I’d written, and again thanked me for bringing his behavior to his attention so that he could improve.
I didn’t know whether he was being sincere or not, but regardless, the sentiment was appreciated, and I chose to take his hand and we shook to bygones being bygones and new beginnings.
Once-again, I was impressed.
I stayed at the dealership for a few hours as papers were drawn up and my new car was washed and polished. I looked out the window at my old vehicle, thinking of a decade of memories I’d made with it. I thought about the night before when I’d emptied it out and drew up a parallel to when I transferred schools and emptied my classroom just a few years ago.
It was a melancholy feeling. Thinking that my car was soon to become someone else’s vehicle. It’d been a good friend, a confidant, and a mode of transportation to get me from one place to another.
After the papers were signed and keys were exchanged, I walked out to the back lot to sit in my car for one final time. I said goodbye. It was the end of an era. I closed my eyes and allowed the memories to seep into me. The familiar smells of the desert lingering in the upholstery filled my nostrils and filled me with a flood of good times – as well as the bad.
I closed the door one final time as I climbed out – the sun winking over the distant eastern mountains – closing the door on an era of my life.
I then turned and climbed into my new vehicle, playing familiar music so that it would feel a bit more like home. I started the ignition and pulled from the parking lot, pointing my front tires for the new adventures, which are now lying ahead.
To answer this question there are two ways in which I could go about it…the long way, or the short way.
For those of you who are in a rush I will provide you with the ‘cliff notes’ version – as well as the unabridged version for those of you with inquiring minds that really just want to know.
Pick your poison...
Reader’s Digest Version:
I received an apology from the manager on duty the night I’d gone in - as well as one from the regional manager. I was sold the car I wanted for a price that was a little bit more than I wanted to pay, but significantly less than what they were originally asking. Everyone went away as better people and lived happily ever after.
Full Version:
As you know, a particular manager at a local car dealership treated me somewhat badly. It was when I was driving home that I decided that I’d not return to that business. However, the next morning I felt that I needed to make my voice be heard. I try to call attention to others when they go out of their way with exceptional service so that their efforts are not unsung – it was at this point that I knew that I should also do this when superior service is just not the case. I sat down and spent nearly an hour writing and rewriting a letter I would send in. After sharing it with a few friends (as well as my dad) I emailed the letter to my sister so that she could fax to the dealership.
Three days went by, and I heard nothing.
It was mid-afternoon on Monday that my cell phone rang. It was the dealership. I was promptly issued an apology – much to my surprise and relief. After all, I really did want that particular vehicle they had, but I’d made the decision that I wasn’t going to purchase it if it wasn’t going to be on my terms.
I was told that the letter I’d sent in had made it to the desk of the regional manager and he wanted to ‘make this right.’ I was then asked if I would be able come in to discuss another deal; I opted to wait a day to make sure that this was something I really felt like doing. I told the salesman that I’d come in tomorrow. So it was on a Tuesday afternoon after a riveting day of summer school I found myself driving to the dealership.
I’ll be honest, I was a bit nervous. After all, today could either be the day I got the car I wanted, or I’d be back to searching – something I’d been doing for several months so it wasn’t too terrible.
The same salesman I’d already worked with, Rien (pronounced Ryan), met me at the door with a smile and I was informed that my offer was ‘nearly there’ but not quite.
A new deal was worked, which was met by both parties in mutual agreement – I’d gone up by $1,000 and they’d come down $3,500 from what I’d originally been told by the manager on duty that particular night before I wrote the letter.
I felt that this was fair.
The regional manager came down from his office. He introduced himself. He apologized for how I’d been treated the night before. I was impressed.
Soon after this, another individual approached me as I was shooting a quick text message. When I looked up I immediately recognized him as the manager on duty when I’d come in the previous week. He extended his hand and apologized, saying that sometimes he needed a check on his behavior - and how he doesn’t realize from time to time how some of the things he says comes out. He told me that he had no hard feelings for the letter I’d written, and again thanked me for bringing his behavior to his attention so that he could improve.
I didn’t know whether he was being sincere or not, but regardless, the sentiment was appreciated, and I chose to take his hand and we shook to bygones being bygones and new beginnings.
Once-again, I was impressed.
I stayed at the dealership for a few hours as papers were drawn up and my new car was washed and polished. I looked out the window at my old vehicle, thinking of a decade of memories I’d made with it. I thought about the night before when I’d emptied it out and drew up a parallel to when I transferred schools and emptied my classroom just a few years ago.
It was a melancholy feeling. Thinking that my car was soon to become someone else’s vehicle. It’d been a good friend, a confidant, and a mode of transportation to get me from one place to another.
After the papers were signed and keys were exchanged, I walked out to the back lot to sit in my car for one final time. I said goodbye. It was the end of an era. I closed my eyes and allowed the memories to seep into me. The familiar smells of the desert lingering in the upholstery filled my nostrils and filled me with a flood of good times – as well as the bad.
I closed the door one final time as I climbed out – the sun winking over the distant eastern mountains – closing the door on an era of my life.
I then turned and climbed into my new vehicle, playing familiar music so that it would feel a bit more like home. I started the ignition and pulled from the parking lot, pointing my front tires for the new adventures, which are now lying ahead.
Labels:
car
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
%&@! on Earth - The Letter
Pin It
To whom it may concern,
I came into your dealership last night to see a car that I like. I enjoyed the company of your salespeople, Reid especially has been both fun and personable. However, after talking to some of your salespeople, I was introduced to another individual to try to work the deal.
I just wanted to express how I was made to feel during that conversation. I felt somewhat belittled, and like I didn't know anything. I was very uncomfortable and now wish that I simply walked out instead of listening to this man throwing out numbers like they were going out of style; I wish I simply had been told that the car couldn't be sold at a price that I was asking. This would have been a much better way to deal with me as an individual, and to many other people that I know. I felt like I was being treated as an idiot, no matter how kindly the words were put from time to time with compliments thrown haphazardly.
As a general rule, XXXXXXXXXXX has always treated me well. Back when I bought my Honda, I was impressed. This is the main reason I came back and considered making a purchase from you. It also helps that you had a vehicle that I really liked as well. However, after my experience last night, I would prefer not to come physically back into the dealership at all. In fact, I won’t be. This is the reason for a written letter.
I wanted to send one message about what my final offer would be on a vehicle that I'm interested in. If this works out in the ensuing days, wonderful, if not, please do not contact me about working a different deal. I am simply not interested, and please don’t contact me about other future vehicles from your dealership.
[It in in this place that I put all the technical information about the car, and what I am willing to do].
If you find this to be agreeable, please feel free to contact me. If not, I would prefer not to be contacted now, or anytime in the future.
Sincerely,
Teachinfourth
Faxed today at 10:13 A.M.
August 6, 2010
To whom it may concern,
I came into your dealership last night to see a car that I like. I enjoyed the company of your salespeople, Reid especially has been both fun and personable. However, after talking to some of your salespeople, I was introduced to another individual to try to work the deal.
I just wanted to express how I was made to feel during that conversation. I felt somewhat belittled, and like I didn't know anything. I was very uncomfortable and now wish that I simply walked out instead of listening to this man throwing out numbers like they were going out of style; I wish I simply had been told that the car couldn't be sold at a price that I was asking. This would have been a much better way to deal with me as an individual, and to many other people that I know. I felt like I was being treated as an idiot, no matter how kindly the words were put from time to time with compliments thrown haphazardly.
As a general rule, XXXXXXXXXXX has always treated me well. Back when I bought my Honda, I was impressed. This is the main reason I came back and considered making a purchase from you. It also helps that you had a vehicle that I really liked as well. However, after my experience last night, I would prefer not to come physically back into the dealership at all. In fact, I won’t be. This is the reason for a written letter.
I wanted to send one message about what my final offer would be on a vehicle that I'm interested in. If this works out in the ensuing days, wonderful, if not, please do not contact me about working a different deal. I am simply not interested, and please don’t contact me about other future vehicles from your dealership.
[It in in this place that I put all the technical information about the car, and what I am willing to do].
If you find this to be agreeable, please feel free to contact me. If not, I would prefer not to be contacted now, or anytime in the future.
Sincerely,
Teachinfourth
Faxed today at 10:13 A.M.
Labels:
car
Thursday, August 5, 2010
%&@! on Earth
Pin It
It's now 10 o'clock and I'm just barely getting home. I could use an awful lot of adjectives to describe this particular evening...most of which would probably be in the forms of words such as: hellish, garish, and a lot more -ish words that I would rather not use right now.
Shopping for a new car — I believe that says it all.
I went to five different car dealerships today – all of them this evening. I looked at several different vehicles; test drove on the freeway, and listened to the ins and outs of each model. Though I've done this type of thing several times over the past month or two it was still fun. There's something about sitting in cars that are not yours and then deciding whether or not you could see yourself owning them. You imagine yourself driving them, and perhaps even wondering if anyone would be able to recognize you if you were to indeed make the purchase. In a sense, it's almost like trying on a brand-new pair of shoes. Some shoes just seem to work, while others most certainly do not.
I decided to drop in at the fifth car dealership as kind of an impulsive thing, you know, being sporadic and all that. I was immediately greeted by two of the salesman I'd worked with many times before. I liked them both; they were pretty agreeable fellows. In fact, I really enjoyed the company of one of the salesman…he was witty, friendly, and deep down inside I just liked him. I could imagine that if we’d met on the playground as third graders, we’d have been lifelong friends.
We walked over to the car that I’d seen many times before – and test driven five or six times. It seemed to call to me. It wanted to be mine – I could just tell. However, the price was not quite right to fit into my budget, even after a trade in. That was fine though…like I’d told the salesmen, I was not intending to purchase a car today. The salesman said he’d try one more thing…
Unfortunately, since the salesman just couldn't seem to make the magic happen in the way I wanted (which was fine…I didn’t need a new car today or tomorrow and I’d made this perfectly clear) the floor manager came down to have a little chat with me.
Hell on Earth? I think that would be putting it lightly.
Begin the ‘lookdown upon’ session.
To make an incredibly long story much shorter than what it was in real life, I left the dealership feeling almost like I'd been attacked. Despite the kind words and the many times the floor manager told me that I looked like a, "smart guy who looked like he had it all together," I couldn't help but feel somewhat looked down upon. This was largely due to the presumptuous mannerism and know-it-allness hidden beneath a shallow cloak of civility. The underlying message this man seemed to be relaying was something along the lines of, ‘you, my friend, are a complete moron.’
By the time I finally got away from the dealership it was running on 10 PM, and more than anything I just wanted to go home.
I don't even care that this is not my best writing...
Shopping for a new car sucks, I think I just might buy a horse.
Shopping for a new car — I believe that says it all.
I went to five different car dealerships today – all of them this evening. I looked at several different vehicles; test drove on the freeway, and listened to the ins and outs of each model. Though I've done this type of thing several times over the past month or two it was still fun. There's something about sitting in cars that are not yours and then deciding whether or not you could see yourself owning them. You imagine yourself driving them, and perhaps even wondering if anyone would be able to recognize you if you were to indeed make the purchase. In a sense, it's almost like trying on a brand-new pair of shoes. Some shoes just seem to work, while others most certainly do not.
I decided to drop in at the fifth car dealership as kind of an impulsive thing, you know, being sporadic and all that. I was immediately greeted by two of the salesman I'd worked with many times before. I liked them both; they were pretty agreeable fellows. In fact, I really enjoyed the company of one of the salesman…he was witty, friendly, and deep down inside I just liked him. I could imagine that if we’d met on the playground as third graders, we’d have been lifelong friends.
We walked over to the car that I’d seen many times before – and test driven five or six times. It seemed to call to me. It wanted to be mine – I could just tell. However, the price was not quite right to fit into my budget, even after a trade in. That was fine though…like I’d told the salesmen, I was not intending to purchase a car today. The salesman said he’d try one more thing…
Unfortunately, since the salesman just couldn't seem to make the magic happen in the way I wanted (which was fine…I didn’t need a new car today or tomorrow and I’d made this perfectly clear) the floor manager came down to have a little chat with me.
Hell on Earth? I think that would be putting it lightly.
Begin the ‘lookdown upon’ session.
To make an incredibly long story much shorter than what it was in real life, I left the dealership feeling almost like I'd been attacked. Despite the kind words and the many times the floor manager told me that I looked like a, "smart guy who looked like he had it all together," I couldn't help but feel somewhat looked down upon. This was largely due to the presumptuous mannerism and know-it-allness hidden beneath a shallow cloak of civility. The underlying message this man seemed to be relaying was something along the lines of, ‘you, my friend, are a complete moron.’
By the time I finally got away from the dealership it was running on 10 PM, and more than anything I just wanted to go home.
I don't even care that this is not my best writing...
Shopping for a new car sucks, I think I just might buy a horse.
Labels:
car
Friday, June 4, 2010
Santa of the Fe
Pin It
I’m convinced that most car lots would do much better in regard to sales if they were to play something other than country music. Granted, living in near a place where ‘fork’ is pronounced by some as ‘fark’ and ‘bag’ is pronounced ‘bage’ would probably account for this sad and sorry plight.
Classic rock—I’m convinced—sells far more cars than country.
As many of you know, I am currently in the zone of car buyage. Yeah, the looking, driving, considering, wheeling, dealing, refusing, starting over…it’s a vicious cycle to be honest. But in a way it’s fun, too.
Over the past few weeks I’ve felt myself running the gambit of finding, wanting, calling my dad for sage advice, and taking five or six different people out along with me on test drives. Yeah, I want to be sure.
So I drove the Torouqe, Xterra, Pilot, Element, Tucson, and half-a-dozen others I cannot remember the names to, but which sound like capitals of states or items found on the periodic table.
After an adamant search I found it…the Santa (not Claus) Fe, made by Hyundai.
In writing this post I came to the realization that I never blogged about my last car acquisition, mostly because I don’t believe that blogs were in existence nine years ago when I made my last car purchase. However, if I had, I’d have probably said that when I first slipped into the Honda CR-V it was like ‘coming home.’ It was a place I felt comfortable in, and from the first test drive of the model, I loved it.
The Santa Fe; love it, too.
I’ve driven five or six vehicles of this model and subjected several friends and family members to test drivage along with me.
I think I found it.
But now comes the part of finding that one particular Santa Fe where rhyme meets reason and mileage meets pocketbook.
Curses.
I found one I liked. It was a bit too expensive. I talked to a friend, telling her that I thought I was suffering from ‘non-purchasing remorse.’ Or at least that’s what I choose to call it, after all, I have no idea what it’s called when one doesn’t buy something they think they want and there is the fear that it will not be there if they procrastinate any longer.
Yeah, that.
Needless to say, I’m still on the lookout for the Santa Fe which will make all of my dreams come true and bring world peace. After all, if there were a car out there that would bring peace to a world, it would surely be the Santa Fe.
So now it comes to the present. I’ve got high hopes. I’m on the lookout. I’m not in a huge rush to buy something today or tomorrow. I am still looking, and when I find the right one, I’ll buy it.
I have had to face some burning questions though. The most pressing is probably: will people still recognize me without the red CR-V? Probably not. Is this a bad thing? Probably not. Will it take some getting used to? Probably. Am I ready for the change?
Well, let’s see what Santa brings…
Classic rock—I’m convinced—sells far more cars than country.
As many of you know, I am currently in the zone of car buyage. Yeah, the looking, driving, considering, wheeling, dealing, refusing, starting over…it’s a vicious cycle to be honest. But in a way it’s fun, too.
Over the past few weeks I’ve felt myself running the gambit of finding, wanting, calling my dad for sage advice, and taking five or six different people out along with me on test drives. Yeah, I want to be sure.
So I drove the Torouqe, Xterra, Pilot, Element, Tucson, and half-a-dozen others I cannot remember the names to, but which sound like capitals of states or items found on the periodic table.
After an adamant search I found it…the Santa (not Claus) Fe, made by Hyundai.
In writing this post I came to the realization that I never blogged about my last car acquisition, mostly because I don’t believe that blogs were in existence nine years ago when I made my last car purchase. However, if I had, I’d have probably said that when I first slipped into the Honda CR-V it was like ‘coming home.’ It was a place I felt comfortable in, and from the first test drive of the model, I loved it.
The Santa Fe; love it, too.
I’ve driven five or six vehicles of this model and subjected several friends and family members to test drivage along with me.
I think I found it.
But now comes the part of finding that one particular Santa Fe where rhyme meets reason and mileage meets pocketbook.
Curses.
I found one I liked. It was a bit too expensive. I talked to a friend, telling her that I thought I was suffering from ‘non-purchasing remorse.’ Or at least that’s what I choose to call it, after all, I have no idea what it’s called when one doesn’t buy something they think they want and there is the fear that it will not be there if they procrastinate any longer.
Yeah, that.
Needless to say, I’m still on the lookout for the Santa Fe which will make all of my dreams come true and bring world peace. After all, if there were a car out there that would bring peace to a world, it would surely be the Santa Fe.
So now it comes to the present. I’ve got high hopes. I’m on the lookout. I’m not in a huge rush to buy something today or tomorrow. I am still looking, and when I find the right one, I’ll buy it.
I have had to face some burning questions though. The most pressing is probably: will people still recognize me without the red CR-V? Probably not. Is this a bad thing? Probably not. Will it take some getting used to? Probably. Am I ready for the change?
Well, let’s see what Santa brings…
Saturday, April 24, 2010
New Cars and Old Nightmares
Pin It
The smell of new car wafted about me as I sat in the driver’s seat at the Honda dealership. I closed my eyes and allowed the feel of the brand-new used CR-V to settle itself over me. It was like arriving at a place and a time that was not only comfortable, but familiar as well.
I liked it.
The price tag? Not so much liked, and the color was not so much liked, either. The dusty blue exterior just didn’t seem quite right. I arrived at this conclusion from the simple fact that I love red. After all, my last two cars have been so, and I’ve driven the same vehicle for the past nine years. It’s a fact for which I’m well-known and recognized. In fact, I’ve had several folks make it a point to tell me, “Hey, Teachinfourth, I saw you today…you drove by and I waved to you. When your car passed I saw that it wasn’t you driving, so then I understood why you didn’t wave, so it really wasn’t your car, but I felt like I saw you today.”
Such is life when I’ve become associated with every little, red CR-V that buzzes around town. My dad has even admitted that he will do a double take when he sees one, just in the off chance that it just might be me—even though we live some five hundred miles from each other.
So blue didn’t feel quite right just now, I needed crimson, baby. Crimson.
I headed up to Salt Lake to take a test drive in a 2007 CR-V. Not only was it my brand and make, it was red. Can I say that again? It was RED. I let the freeway fall behind me and let my excitement rise as I came closer to my destination. This could be it. Like the feeling one gets before taking out a really hot a blind date, the butterflies were doing a number in the bowels of my stomach.
I took the freeway exit and ended up at the dealership in a matter of minutes upon entering SLC. I eased my car into a vacant parking stall and began to walk among the sea of vehicles, which spread about me like Legos after being played with by an obsessive-compulsive child with perfectionist tendencies.
It was only a few moments before I spotted the car, the one that had haunted me since I’d seen its image on the Internet a week ago.
It. was. beautiful.
I walked to the vehicle and ran my fingers over the smooth contours and aerodynamic shell.
I liked it.
Within about the space of ten seconds, a slicked-back salesman straight from the stereotypical hall of fame approached me; a smile as wide as the kid who’s found all the Easter eggs blanketing his face.
“Looking for a car, sonny?” he asked with a gesture toward the car I’d been looking at. He then introduced himself as, Stan ‘the car man’ Schubach. I’m always leery of people who add nicknames and quotes into their introductions, and look like a brother to Danny Devito from Matilda.
Despite his outward appearance of that of a creepy uncle, and his greasy demeanor, I told him that I wanted to take this car for a spin. I also let him know up front that I was not interested in buying something today—but was simply looking and exploring options.
Car Man Stan nodded appreciatively, and let me know that he would need to make a copy of my driver’s license. That is, if I were planning on test-driving today. He handed me a set of keys as I passed over the only physical proof on my person that was indeed who I am.
As he walked toward the office to make the photocopy, I opened the driver’s side of the door of the car which had haunted my dreams and gasped—but not in the way one might imagine. It wasn’t an excited type of gasp, but more like the ‘hold-your-breath-gasp’ because standing at the door of that car was like being hit in the face with the breath of a demon in the sulfuric bowels of hell.
The ebbing excitement I’d felt on the way to my destination died away like the last of the pressure of a shut-off faucet and a front-yard sprinkler. I was deflated. I was depressed even.
The smell from the car was reminiscent to the odor of my aunt’s house, (I’ll not mention her name here so that Janet’s identity will be protected). This was the house I found myself at from time to time when I was growing up. It was depressing and painful; my eyes would sting and my throat would burn at the noxious, choking smell of cigarettes from two chain-smoking relatives. The car—which had once been a dream—was rapidly becoming a nightmarish childhood memory I’d managed to block out for years.
The dealer came back—dealer sounds so bad, doesn’t it? It sounds like I’m taking part in an illegal drug exchange. For how I was feeling at that moment, I might have well just been.
We took the car for a spin around a few blocks with the windows down and sunroof open; however, this wasn’t enough to brush away the dirty feeling which seemed to coat my very skin, like the saran-wrapish layer of skim forming over the top stagnant water.
In a word, I felt icky.
I couldn’t wait to get out of the car when we’d made it back to the dealership. It was at this point that Stan, the Rip-Off Man seemed to realize that his customer was not impressed, and endeavored to bring my attention to the car sitting next to the one I’d just test driven…only a few years newer than the CR-V I have now, and in much worse condition. He smoothed it all over with, “This baby is che—r—ry. You should see the interior, it is flawless leather and a steal at this price!” He proudly waved his hand at the car with its faded paint, rock-chipped hood, and dent in the front fender—rusting.
Wow, all I can say is that Stan and I have inverted opinions on what constitutes a car in cherry condition. This particular ‘cherry’ looked an awful lot like a lemon to me.
I excused myself from Satan Stan, and returned to the comfortable and familiar world I had arrived in. I closed my eyes and allowed the sweet, lingering smell of my last desert trip to wash over me. It felt safe. It felt cozy. It was at this point I realized—that at least for now—I am already home.
Now, I just need to wait for Stan, Driver’s-License-Forgetting-to-Return-Man, to mail me back the license he forgot to return at the dealership.
I liked it.
The price tag? Not so much liked, and the color was not so much liked, either. The dusty blue exterior just didn’t seem quite right. I arrived at this conclusion from the simple fact that I love red. After all, my last two cars have been so, and I’ve driven the same vehicle for the past nine years. It’s a fact for which I’m well-known and recognized. In fact, I’ve had several folks make it a point to tell me, “Hey, Teachinfourth, I saw you today…you drove by and I waved to you. When your car passed I saw that it wasn’t you driving, so then I understood why you didn’t wave, so it really wasn’t your car, but I felt like I saw you today.”
Such is life when I’ve become associated with every little, red CR-V that buzzes around town. My dad has even admitted that he will do a double take when he sees one, just in the off chance that it just might be me—even though we live some five hundred miles from each other.
So blue didn’t feel quite right just now, I needed crimson, baby. Crimson.
I headed up to Salt Lake to take a test drive in a 2007 CR-V. Not only was it my brand and make, it was red. Can I say that again? It was RED. I let the freeway fall behind me and let my excitement rise as I came closer to my destination. This could be it. Like the feeling one gets before taking out a really hot a blind date, the butterflies were doing a number in the bowels of my stomach.
I took the freeway exit and ended up at the dealership in a matter of minutes upon entering SLC. I eased my car into a vacant parking stall and began to walk among the sea of vehicles, which spread about me like Legos after being played with by an obsessive-compulsive child with perfectionist tendencies.
It was only a few moments before I spotted the car, the one that had haunted me since I’d seen its image on the Internet a week ago.
It. was. beautiful.I walked to the vehicle and ran my fingers over the smooth contours and aerodynamic shell.
I liked it.
Within about the space of ten seconds, a slicked-back salesman straight from the stereotypical hall of fame approached me; a smile as wide as the kid who’s found all the Easter eggs blanketing his face.
“Looking for a car, sonny?” he asked with a gesture toward the car I’d been looking at. He then introduced himself as, Stan ‘the car man’ Schubach. I’m always leery of people who add nicknames and quotes into their introductions, and look like a brother to Danny Devito from Matilda.
Despite his outward appearance of that of a creepy uncle, and his greasy demeanor, I told him that I wanted to take this car for a spin. I also let him know up front that I was not interested in buying something today—but was simply looking and exploring options.
Car Man Stan nodded appreciatively, and let me know that he would need to make a copy of my driver’s license. That is, if I were planning on test-driving today. He handed me a set of keys as I passed over the only physical proof on my person that was indeed who I am.
As he walked toward the office to make the photocopy, I opened the driver’s side of the door of the car which had haunted my dreams and gasped—but not in the way one might imagine. It wasn’t an excited type of gasp, but more like the ‘hold-your-breath-gasp’ because standing at the door of that car was like being hit in the face with the breath of a demon in the sulfuric bowels of hell.
The ebbing excitement I’d felt on the way to my destination died away like the last of the pressure of a shut-off faucet and a front-yard sprinkler. I was deflated. I was depressed even.
The smell from the car was reminiscent to the odor of my aunt’s house, (I’ll not mention her name here so that Janet’s identity will be protected). This was the house I found myself at from time to time when I was growing up. It was depressing and painful; my eyes would sting and my throat would burn at the noxious, choking smell of cigarettes from two chain-smoking relatives. The car—which had once been a dream—was rapidly becoming a nightmarish childhood memory I’d managed to block out for years.
The dealer came back—dealer sounds so bad, doesn’t it? It sounds like I’m taking part in an illegal drug exchange. For how I was feeling at that moment, I might have well just been.
We took the car for a spin around a few blocks with the windows down and sunroof open; however, this wasn’t enough to brush away the dirty feeling which seemed to coat my very skin, like the saran-wrapish layer of skim forming over the top stagnant water.
In a word, I felt icky.
I couldn’t wait to get out of the car when we’d made it back to the dealership. It was at this point that Stan, the Rip-Off Man seemed to realize that his customer was not impressed, and endeavored to bring my attention to the car sitting next to the one I’d just test driven…only a few years newer than the CR-V I have now, and in much worse condition. He smoothed it all over with, “This baby is che—r—ry. You should see the interior, it is flawless leather and a steal at this price!” He proudly waved his hand at the car with its faded paint, rock-chipped hood, and dent in the front fender—rusting.
Wow, all I can say is that Stan and I have inverted opinions on what constitutes a car in cherry condition. This particular ‘cherry’ looked an awful lot like a lemon to me.
I excused myself from Satan Stan, and returned to the comfortable and familiar world I had arrived in. I closed my eyes and allowed the sweet, lingering smell of my last desert trip to wash over me. It felt safe. It felt cozy. It was at this point I realized—that at least for now—I am already home.
Now, I just need to wait for Stan, Driver’s-License-Forgetting-to-Return-Man, to mail me back the license he forgot to return at the dealership.
Labels:
Best-Humor,
car,
disappointed
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
