Wednesday, September 25, 2013
I love it and I hate it.
I love it because, I've always been fond of automobiles. I was that kid who could tell you what ever car make and model was. I mean, not in that Marisa Tomei way, in My Cousin Vinnie.
Mind you, when I was a kid, there really weren't foreign car companies - at least that were prevalent. Sure, I knew MG and Jaguar, but other than that, it was the Big 3. I had a fondness for Pontiac, Buick and well....if we have to go with Ford / Mercury, I focused only on Mustang and Cougars.
I grew out of that and now, there are plenty of makes / models of which I have never heard. Still, getting the annual Consumer Report Auto Guide is like porn to me. But now I'm more of a grown-up about it and really look at what is and is not recommended and why. I comb over every page even when I'm not in the market for a car.
...and I've never lost my love for driving either. I like being in the car and doing the actual driving.
But I hate the buying process. I don't even want to test drive the fuckers, let alone walk in and deal with the SALESMAN (you have to scream that last word like Pee Wee).
I mean, I kind of swooned a bit over my last sales guy, but not so much with any of these. And even the last guy, whom I did buy the car from, became a nuisance. Always friendly, but forever trying to get me to upsell to another car and stay in the Infiniti family. It has only gotten worse as my lease is winding down. Seriously - three to four calls per week and another two to three letters in the same time frame.
Even if I wanted another Infiniti, which I don't, they've done enough stalking to make me run in the other direction.
Yet, time is running out. I've put off the process as long as I could, but I've started looking and test driving cars - and building them, and others, on-line.
Hell, I'm leaning on getting a Kia, just because the dealer threw me the key and told me to bring it back shiny side up. What a joy not having to take a drive with a schmuck in the back seat, prattling on about "the features".
Most of the sales guys weren't horrid. Yeah, they have the same patter, the same crappy jokes. But there's always "the one". Skeevy and at least one wants to know if I'm married. Of course, they mean "to a woman". I always throw them when I say I am, but to a man. Sure, I could leave it at "yes, I am", but I don't.
Each time, they say "that's great!", and then jump right into a story about their girlfriend / fiancee. Calm down guys, you're safe. Not everyone wants you.
So, yeah, I've waited till the last possible minute (ok, a month), but I have it narrowed down, I think, to 5-6 possibilities. I'm thinking I'll narrow it down further by this weekend and then just make a selection.
It's just a car.
Song by: Cyndi Lauper