Once I regained consciousness, my stomach clenched with dread at the thought of spending untold hours at a dealership doing the let-me-talk-to-my-manager cha cha.
Why can’t the process be as simple as buying a head of lettuce? You walk in, choose the best one, pay for it and go home. In a perfect world…
Before we left the house, I called the salesman who sent me the quote.
“Hi, we’re coming to buy the Avalon, but I don’t want to bring a sleeping bag. Can we make this quick and painless? If not, I won’t buy the car.”
“They are preparing the car as we speak and I promise to get you out in about an hour.”
Upon our arrival, I told the salesman I didn’t want to hear the spiel about an extended warranty. He was good with that and filled out the paperwork.
And then the man in black arrived for the financing stage. As Hubby and I followed him to the office I said, “I’m not going to be polite.”
“Why not?” the guy asked, laughing.
“I don’t want the warranty spiel.” He pulled out the warranty sheet and wrote DECLINED across it.
Long story somewhat shortened, we bought the car and were out in little over an hour.
The car is a freaking computer and computers hate me. You breathe wrong and some action instantly happens. Note to self: Keep hands on wheel and away from the touchy feely screen.
As we turned on our dark little county road, Hubby asked me to turn on the high beam and seemed satisfied.
“Does this car have the Hydrogen Peroxide headlights?” she asked.
“Do you mean Halogen headlights?” he gently corrected with a straight face just before we both fell over laughing.
Well, at least he knew what I meant. And it did start with the letter “H.”
Elizabeth is a freelance writer and author. Check out her novel “The Dionysus Connection” on Amazon or ask your bookstore to order it for you. Visit her website, www.elizabethcowan.com.