Went to test drive a car last night. This is becoming a weekly thing, since we tried out the Mini last week. (I think I left a wet spot on the seat after that one; imagine taking the road up the mountain at 80kmh, feeling the car absolutely hug the pavement. Gawd, what a great car, but I don’t have an extra $450+ hanging around every month to pay for it.) Both the chickie and I are in the market, I because I’ve never had a vehicle before, and the gf because, as I may have mentioned, her ’90 Civic ain’t cutting it anymore, costing almost as much every year in repairs and upkeep as it would to pay for a new one. Anyhow, I want to try one more car before I decide, since my mind was pretty much made up beforehand, what with taking into account what I want, can afford, and most importantly, what will make the bettys swoon.
However, it’s always interesting to witness the “déroulement” of the evening, from initially walking in, being slyly pounced upon by whatever salestron is available, given the spiel, etc. Man, do they ever want you to try out the car. None of that icky talking will do. Nope, into the car with you. Well, especially with the Mini, ’cause they know that, the moment you try it out, you’re sold. Good enough, you try it out for about 5-10 minutes, and back to the dealership. (Unfortunately, the milliner doesn’t let me drive her car anymore, not since October, not since she had to lay out lotsa coin to replace the clutch. I still say it wasn’t my fault. So, as a result, I happened to stall the car several times last night. Hee.) So, back to the dealership, and then you’re almost nailed to the wall. “You gonna take it? What do you mean you want to try another car? Did you know that we have a great deal going on right now, but it won’t last long, so sign up now, ‘cause I can’t guarantee that it will still be here when you get back. Oh, did you know that we have the exact same deal you’re looking for in a demo, same colour, same options, yadda yadda, but hurry ‘cause we won’t have it for long.” Honest, the desperation is literally dripping from their brows.
Without a doubt, if I do decide to get the car I tried last night, I might actually get it from someone else. The milliner enjoys the spiel, simply because, because of her work, she can predict how every step of the evening will go. Me? Leave me the fuck alone, and don’t pressure me. I have enough trouble with performance anxiety, I don’t need any more.