A Sweet Ride

Check out my new (used) car! I survived the car-shopping process to walk away yesterday with a 2008 Infiniti G35. I love it. I drove it home from the dealership yesterday, clutching the steering wheel in a two-fisted death grip while mentally chanting "Don't wreck the new car, don't wreck the new car." 

We gave up the '93 Lexus on a trade-in and for all my complaining, I was sad to see it go. We'd had that car for over 10 years. It felt like we were handing over the family dog to strangers. I wanted to cry, "She likes to be taken out for daily walks and given a little treat before bed." Obviously, I have issues. 

My favorite part of any large-purchase process is watching Blair handle the finance person. Blair is a numbers whiz so not only does he not just accept what's been placed before him, he can do the math in his head and shoot out why what they're presenting is factually incorrect or makes no sense. 

Yesterday, for example, the finance guy at the dealership was whizzing through some numbers on-screen, explaining how the 2015/100,000 mileage extended warranty was such a better deal and only cost $20 more a month in payments. This guy actually used the words "high-faluting," as in, "You know, we've had CEO's and bank presidents in here this week and they all went for the extended warranty and they're some pretty, you know, high-falutin' people."

Blair didn't flinch. Instead he pointed out how the figure on the contract didn't match $20 a month, it was closer to $50 and why was that? You could see the guy squirm as he explained that was with interest tacked on. Blair went line by line through the contract and pointed out other inconsistencies and you could just see the guy shrinking in front of us. 

As we left the room and I turned to Blair and whispered, "That was so sexy." 

Blair will now be driving the Camry. I offered to scrape off the "26.2" and "Blue Ridge Relay 208.8" stickers I have on the back window but he said he doesn't mind leaving them on. "When people ask me if I've run a marathon I'll say no, but my woman has," he said. 

Sexy man, sexy car. Not a bad way to spend the weekend.

Cheers,

Dena

Ms. Harris Has Left The Building...

We're car shopping. For the most part, I am holding it together. 

I hate car shopping. Every car rides the same to me. I feel bad for the salesperson in the backseat, leaning forward to say, "You can really feel the difference in acceleration on this model," because no, no I can't. The acceleration on this car feels exactly the same as the acceleration on the other five cars I just drove, from the Kia to the BMW. No difference at all. 

I'd prefer to test drive in anonymity. I don't want to be pandered or sold to. Just let me get in the car, take it around the block, and leave the lot to ponder my decision. 

"I need to be famous," I told Blair as we drove to yet another dealership. "Famous enough so that I can have my people inform the dealership ahead of time that they are not to speak to Ms. Harris unless she speaks to them first."

"Or make eye contact," said Blair.

"Yes! No eye contact," I agreed. "And they can't stand too close to me."

"Grounds for termination," said Blair.

"Absolutely! They need to be told that if they make eye contact with Ms. Harris or in any way acknowledge that they are breathing the same air she breathes, Ms. Harris will immediately leave the lot and ask one of her people to see to it that their ass gets fired, pronto.'" 

"That actually would be an improvement on what we're having to deal with now," said Blair. (We'd just returned from a not-so-fun visit to a Toyota Dealership.)

One more weekend of car shopping ought to do it. Then we'll make our final selection and I won't have to be on a car lot again for another ten years. 

Ms. Harris has left the building...

Cheers,

Dena