Carolyn J. Rose
There
were many times when I viewed relationships with car dealers as falling somewhere
between feigned friendship, tepidly adversarial, and locked in a duel to the death.
Even if I was only accompanying a friend who was just looking around a lot, I
had to psych myself up for the ordeal. I dreaded encounters with salespeople
hungry to make a quota. I felt like an overfed guppy tossed into a tank
swirling with sharks.
These
days it seems car dealers are the guppies. And, while I don’t feel like a
shark, I do feel like I’m holding a fresh container of fish food above the tank.
My car
is a 2016 Toyota Rav4 with less than 35,000 miles on it. Due to pandemic
workforce disruption, shortages, and supply chain issues, it’s become popular.
It’s so popular it could run for political office. And win. It could be
president. Or at least prom queen.
I get
regular offers for amazing trade-in allowances, bonuses, and incredible deals
on my next vehicle. But I’m not in the market for another vehicle.
If such offers
had come in for that green Volkswagen Rabbit I owned in the 70s, I wouldn’t
have dickered for a second. If dealers had wanted the Datsun F-10 or the Ford
Escort this badly, I would have lunged at the deal without a moment’s
hesitation. But it was a different market then. The offers, especially by
today’s standards, were laughable. Still, I accepted them.
I
haggled some over the aging Jeep Cherokee I inherited from my father 20 years
ago and the Corolla I owned after that. They were solid vehicles in good shape
and I knew their value. The deals I settled for were sound, but not as
stratospheric as the one I might make these days.
Now,
because my car is so popular, I can be picky. In fact, I can be as picky as a
cat served cheap store-brand food. I can be as picky as a toddler selecting a
story to delay bedtime, as picky as a bride seeking dresses that guarantee
bridesmaids won’t upstage her. I can set a whole new level of picky. And I can
enjoy the heck out of it.
And, despite
my pickiness, car dealers will probably still get in line to “be my friend” and
wrap their hands around the steering wheel of my car.
In the
past, I’ve never put a price on friendship. But these are weird times. If the
offers keep coming and the numbers keep rising . . . Well, who knows?
