I’ve never been one to get that excited about cars. Like most areas of my life, I’m pretty cheap responsible when it comes to my mode of transportation, and for the most part, I feel that as long as my ride doesn’t leave me stranded on the side of the road too often, then it’s a decent car. Which is really just a nice way to say that for the past several years, I’ve been driving a piece of crap, and quite frankly, it never really bothered me that much. I mean, who really needs a working gas gauge when you can just set the trip-meter every time you fill up. And even though I’ve come across looking like I suffer from road rage because the horn would randomly honk while turning, I always thought of that feature as giving the van some personality. However, this past week has taught me something. Things like broken interior lights and mis-matched side mirrors can be worked around, but the transmission is a integral part of the car-driving equation and can turn a clunker into a junker overnight.
So last Thursday, we dropped the van off at the mechanic’s for a tune up before we left town for our kid-free, weekend getaway. I’d been noticing some new quirks and jerks while driving it and just thought the ‘ole van would benefit from a little pampering herself. Ken called the shop the next day to check in and see what the damage was going to be when we were hit with the news. The van was on her last leg, and it was time to put her out of her misery. Basically, there was so much that needed to be repaired (including a new transmission) that it was more or less totaled.
We started to scramble. We had a lot going on during the week including being out of town, and I just didn’t see how we were going to cram buying a new car into our schedules. However, our mechanic can be pretty convincing when he needs to be and told us that if the transmission went out before we were able to trade it in, then we were going to be paying somebody to take it off our hands. ( On a side note: We knew it wouldn’t be right to sell it to an unsuspecting individual.) I didn’t like the idea of buying a car from a dealership since I rate car salesman right up there with blood sucking leeches, but I also don’t want to be stuck until the end of time with a mini-van in my already cramped driveway. So we dove into the whirlwind process of buying a new car before the clock ran out on our old one.
The two things I wanted:
1. Another mini-van because lets face it, I AM their target market. A mother with two small children. They have specifically designed this car for me, and say what you want about how uncool mini-vans are, it’s hard to deny if you’ve ever tried to load kids and groceries into a car at the same time, which is something I do almost daily, sometimes hourly.
2. Automatic sliding doors that open with a key fob. I know, I know…after the first paragraph of this post, I am sounding like a prima-donna, but even my clunker had one automatic door…and it was sent straight from heaven.
So Sunday afternoon after church, we started the search and spent the entire day going from car lot to car lot peering inside windows. We went to bed that night with a plan of attack for Monday morning and a dollar amount that we weren’t going to budge on. I will spare you all the details of deals that fell through, except to say that we didn’t start out trying to buy all the bells and whistles. But by 2:00 Monday afternoon, we were headed up to Jasper (about an hour’s drive) to look at one final van.
We spent the entire drive rehearsing our negotiating skills, deciding who was good cop and who was bad. I got this pit in my stomach as the thought occurred to me, “Ken, what are we going to do if the van breaks down while we are at the dealership?” Again, a hour away from home.
“Shut up! Don’t you even talk that way! Now…what was my starting bid again?”
Well, we arrived safe and sound, and since they knew we were coming, Heath (our leech salesman) had already pulled the van around for us. Within minutes of our arrival, we were pulling out of the car lot for our test drive. Ken never should have let me sit down in that car. I had forgotten our negotiating strategy before I’d even buckled my seat belt. If you want a feature, this one had it…automatic doors, stow n’ go seats, DVD changer w/ wireless headphones, and the list goes on and on.
We came back to the dealership to start the song and dance process. You know the one where we write down a number and then Heath shakes his head and has to check with his manager. He comes back with another number, and we shake our heads. Add to the mix, a thirteen month old baby who’s climbing the walls and diving into trash cans, and that pretty much sums up the negotiating experience.
I guess all our practicing on the drive up paid off though because we walked out of there having stuck to our guns…or should I say, we drove out of there in our new mini-van feeling like we got a pretty good deal.
In hindsight, I guess the reason I never minded driving my old van was because I had no idea what I’d been missing. Yes, it was a piece, but it never left me and my kids stranded so I didn’t let it bother me. Having said that though, I will have you know that I am totally gaga over my new set of wheels, so gaga that it has even surprised me. I get in my new car (that I can start while standing INSIDE my house!), and I feel spoiled, more spoiled than I’ve felt in a car in a long time. I want to shout it from the mountain tops, “MY NAME IS LEIGH, AND I LOVE MY BUTT WARMERS!”
