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Adventures in Auto Acquisitions and the Salespeople Trying to Screw You

(By CaffeineFiend)

Is there some unwritten rule that states that car shopping is required to make you completely insane in order to be deemed successful?

Seriously, people.

Background:

I took the bucket of bolts to the shop. Turns out, the new tranny that the blueberry requires to continue living a sputtering, puttering and otherwise rattling existence would cost more than it’s worth, and the arm and leg would be better invested a new less bolty bucked to cruise around in.

Let the car hunt begin.

A couple of phone calls led me to test driving a Hyundai with a crunchy clutch and squeaky breaks that the dealership insisted were the result of sitting in the lot — two test drives and a trip to the gas station later and they were still squeaking, so I beg to differ.

Oh, and the driver-side controls wouldn’t roll the back window up — it would go down, just not up.

Boy, talk about a promising start.

Once all these issues came to my attention, I began gracefully trying to back my way out of the four-hour paperwork process.

The salesman was annoyed.

I did my best to stay firm.

He guilt tripped.

I said thanks, but I wanted to make an informed decision.

He said with my credit score — it’s just new, not bad, gimme’ a break — I’d never find a deal like this. Ever.

I said I was going to keep shopping.

Anyhow, suffice it to say I happily poured myself back into my stupid Focus and bounced.

I’ve since received three phone calls from him, the first lowering the monthly payment, the second in which I stuck to my guns about the clutch — which he assured me I could get used to over time, and a third culminating in him leaving me a voicemail saying that on closer inspection there was something “slightly weird” about the clutch and they would replace it for me if I was interested.

I smell a lemon.

What exactly does he take me for, a chick?!?

Geeze.

Told him that clutch was funky.

Help me out here, guys … I need some pointers on how to avoid getting taken to the cleaners — aside from dragging a dude along.

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