🚀 go-pugleaf

My car has been mostly reliable, save for about $2000 in repair work
last year.  So after some transmission trouble last week, I took it in
to the local transmission shop to have an exploratory done on the beast.
It turns out that the mechanic left a message on my answering machine,
but didn't say what the trouble was.  This left me with the impression
that my car was probably due to see St. Henry at the Junkyard in the
Sky.  Thinking thusly, I decided it was high time to look for a new car.

After my one experience with Hyundai (don't laugh, please -- I was just
out of college and needed a car), I decided never again to own a cheap
foreign auto.  That, and the fact that I want to see Americans working
led me to look at the Ford Thunderbird.  It's a big step up, but I think
I can afford it -- the insurance numbers are far better than on the
Mustang I was considering, and surprisingly, not that much more than
what I'm paying on my Excel now.  For that matter, they're far better
than those on the Eagle Talon/Mitsubishi Eclipse that I've also ogled
for many months.

On my way home today, I stopped by Sunset Ford in Westminster.  Now, let
me make one thing clear: I *hate* car dealerships.  Especially, I hate
car salesmen.  There's something vaguely reptilian about them.  On the
evolutionary scale, they fall somewhere between alligators and boa
constrictors -- only sneakier.  Kaa had nothin' on your average lot
lizard.

So as you can imagine, I had steeled myself for a grueling experience.
Car salesmen have harangued me, lectured me, and even told me to go away
unless I *really, really* wanted to buy a car -- and in some less than
pleasant language, too.  Buying a car is as much fun as hitting yourself
on the head with a hammer.  Wait, I take that back -- with the hammer,
the pain stops sooner, and you don't have to keep up the payments three
years later.

I arrived at Sunset Ford, teeth clenched.  I took a deep breath, and
walked across the lot to the main office.

I asked one of the salesmen if I could have a color sheet for the '93
T-birds.  The salesman, named Dave, told me that they had none, and
wouldn't get any in until the 1994 models arrived, some time in
September.  Failing that, he took me out back in his cart (they have a
gigantic lot there), and we saw all the colors Ford had for 1993, about
a dozen in all.

Finally, he took me back to the front lot, and -- surprise! -- didn't
threaten me with a new car.  This thoroughly impressed me.  He was
actually nice about the whole thing.  He said, "When you're ready, we'd
like to earn your business."  Earn my business?  I was flabbergasted.
Well, what'll they think of next: a polite car salesman.

Well, even if I *do* buy a car, I confess that I'll likely buy it
through my credit union, since I know I can get it for dealer invoice,
about $16,000 plus tax.  That's why I needed a color sheet, something my
credit union didn't have.

So why am I telling you all this?  Because I found some hope for a group
of people I thought hopeless not so very long ago, this for two reasons.

The first reason is that the retail car dealers know they've got
competition, and worse, they're doing quite well.  The old hard-sell is
dying a well-deserved death.  People don't like it and they won't put up
with it.  Places like my credit union, the Auto Club, and other
companies now give you the straight dope -- what it costs the dealer (in
theory) to buy the car, the so-called "dealer invoice".  (In fact,
that's what they sell it to you for; but in truth, many unreported
manufacturer kickbacks lurk beneath this "dealer's invoice" figure,
which explains how the non-dealer dealer makes his profit.)  The entire
line of Saturn cars are sold at dealerships which have *no* commissioned
salesmen.  This, I think, is the future -- if auto retailers are to
fight back against non-dealer dealers.

Of course, there are some areas where the old-style retailers have an
advantage.  A regular dealer can offer to let you drive the new chariot
of your choice; all the "buy your car over the phone" non-dealer can
offer is a picture.  Regular car dealers must keep up the overhead of a
service department, and they have to accept trade-ins, too, things
foreign to the over-the-phone dealers.

But even with all these advantages, the message to the old-line
retailers finally came in loud and clear: car salesmen just can't be
pushy jerks anymore.  That the dealers have actually started responding
at the level where it counts, the sales lot, is the second reason I
think there's hope: Dave didn't try to shove a car down my throat
(ouch!).

I think I'll go back to Sunset when I need service.

--

Robert L. McMillin | Surf City Software | rlm@helen.surfcty.com | Dude!
   "It's okay.  I know you can't help looking at my ear." -- Bongo

--

Robert L. McMillin | Surf City Software | rlm@helen.surfcty.com | Dude!
   "It's okay.  I know you can't help looking at my ear." -- Bongo