My New Car

So back a year ago, I wrote about how we replaced my husband’s car, or, as I prefer to think of it, The Car My Husband Tends To Drive (because I don’t like thinking of the cars as belonging to each of us individually); we switched out one Impala for another, with the new one, at any rate, having more bells and whistles in the electronics.  It was actually a smooth car-buying experience, as these things go:  GM offered (past tense because this was a year ago) the ability to get an internet no-haggle quote; the dealer that offered us the best deal and had available the trim level and color we wanted was a bit further away but it was worth it.  And at the dealer they were pleasant and professional.

Our newest purchase, finalized last night?  Eh, not so much, actually.  It’s a Pacifica, because GM doesn’t have a minivan in their lineup, and we decided to replace the 10 year old old Grand Caravan with a hybrid before Congress chopped the tax credits, since that tax credit brought the price down to that of the “regular” Pacifica (though it’s still admittedly not a cheap car).

When we first started shopping, we went online, and Chrysler had a “get a quote” option which we assumed was similar to the Chevy version — but all it got us was a phone call from the dealership inviting us to come in and look at cars, which was pretty useless.  We went into the other dealer nearby, test drove, got a trade-in offer and an offer on the car itself, did some research, decided to purchase the car — and then, when my husband went into the dealer to work out the final numbers (e.g., what’s the “out the door” price with taxes and fees?), they started to get snakey.  “Oh, we can’t give you that discount.”  He pushed them a bit more, and finally got the numbers he was looking for, and put down a deposit for them to get the car from another dealer.

And then we waited.  First it wasn’t available just before Thanksgiving, then not just afterwards, then a couple days later they admitted that the car they were going to get for us was already sold, and were we OK with a different color, and then we were finally ready to get the car last night.

And — after a fairly pleasant experience a year ago, we were now back to Why I Hate Car Dealers.  Tons of wait time to “put the paperwork together.”  A “tour of the dealership.”  And not one, but two, individuals said, “I’m going to explain the warranty to you,” and proceeded to try to sell us rust-protection and other extended warranties.  Finally we were ready to write the check — but oops! the number that they had given us as the “out the door” price was not on the Bill of Sale.  “We didn’t include the Cook County Tax before.”  They made it out as if their inclusion of it now was a convenience to us because otherwise we’d just have to pay it separately.  And, with my husband quite calmly saying, “we need for you to keep to the Out the Door price you quoted us,” the man across the desk from us (“finance manager” or some such title), quite angrily said, “you need to stop yelling at me.”  At some point I tried to interrupt him, too, and ultimately after he’d said his piece, he turned to me and invited me to speak, and, I suspect, expected me to be conciliatory and say, “oh, it’s no big deal.”  Instead I said, “the out the door price you quoted us was what we relied on when we made our decision about whether this was the right car for us.”  So finally he said, “I’ll talk to the manager,” came back, backed into the price they quoted us, we wrote the check and, after nearly two hours, were finally out the door.  (Was this a true mistake?  Do they always underestimate the “out the door” calculation so as to bait-and-switch?  I don’t know.  To be honest, that which I was most concerned about was them backing out of the trade-in offer, which didn’t happen.)

Which is very disappointing.

I mean, it’s a fine car.  It’s got leather seats, a nice assortment of electronics (though not the top trim level), it’s shiny and white, and, whatever the arguments are about whether you really get your money’s worth in gas savings, or whether the are harmful consequences to the environment in terms of the mining of the rare earth minerals for the battery, or the like — it’s still neat to have a car that, when running on battery, is dead quiet.  Plus, not only is it “American-made” (given that Canadian cars also count in that definition), but it’s made in Windsor, which is, after all, practically my hometown.

But we didn’t leave the dealership excited about the new car.  We left somewhat deflated, as if car-buying was a chore among others, not something special.  And, of course, all of this is on top of my inherent distrust of car salesmen, and my expectation that they’ll try to cheat me as a woman, which in the end means that I am reluctant to deal with them without my husband.

So, as usual, readers, please share your experiences!