Back in mid-July, we came home from Flatrock and NYC and The Rat Mobile rallied. On July 19th, I made a split decision and decided to high-tail it to Santa Cruz, buy myself a car over the hill, and get back home the next day. Plus it was Grandma’s birthday, so if I didn’t find myself stuck on the side of the freeway somewhere in the desert surrounding King City, I could also celebrate with the fam.
Now buying a car was going to be a first for me. When James was gone, I had to learn how to use the grill and to work our television and three remote controls, but buying cars, a life skill I’d successfully avoided. Mostly because you so much as sneeze the words “new car” and my dad and brother are out on Stevens Creek before you can reach for the Kleenex. Seriously, I mentioned the car I’d seen on the internet and Uncle Geoff was test-driving it that same night. He literally described the upscale gas pedal to me. I’m infinitely blessed and grateful to have a brother who likes doing all the necessary car research I haven’t the faintest interest in googling, who can then coach me on all the things I’d never know I should know and can commit to memory for 48-hours, before promptly erasing from long-term memory.
So on Saturday afternoon I drive the hill to the dealership to meet Fadi (pronounced Faddy, like Daddy, but not Fatty, like well, Fatty). We’re wearing the same color shirts… millennial pink. Now over the years, I’ve picked up some secrets to car shopping from Granddad. First is to park your car away from the lot. It’s important to just apparate, Harry Potter-style, onto the car lot so that first, they can’t judge you based on The Rat Mobile you drive and second, you can dramatically walk to your car as the sales rep in the cheap suit chases after you. Third, if you can, pay cash.
So I apparate onto the lot. Fadi brings around the perfect, barely-used, climate-conscious, plug-in hybrid 2018 Volvo SUV in a pearly white. 29,000 miles. We drive it. This is it. It doesn’t have the built-in booster seats that are the only upgrade I want, but whatevs. The Rat Mobile is not coming home. Fadi doesn’t know that.
They want to examine my trade-in. I literally hope no rodent corpses rain down on the inspecting mechanic. How embarrassing would that be… “The check engine light is on– we can only give you $1,000.” Really, they only mentioned the check engine light? Hot dog, this is my lucky day.
Fadi says this SUV is already on sale. He can’t do anything on the price. I’m a Soccer Mom alone at a customer-free dealership buying a car for the first time, wearing a pink shirt. I’m not buying this car without getting something. I want money off. I want a longer warranty. Whaddaya have to work with, Fadi? I use the old “call my husband” gig. He goes into the back to talk to his tough-as-nails sales manager. It doesn’t matter to him that I’m considering paying cash. He says it’s an R-Design. I gather this makes it fancier. Really fancy apparently.
I get up and head out. We don’t have a deal. I’m headed down to the Volvo dealership– for a little more I could get a brand new one. “Oh don’t be like that. Sit down Jaimie, sit down. Don’t you trust me?”
“I just met you.”
We finally work our way to a deal. I write out the check. He’s relieved and happy to make the sale. Now that it’s over, he wants to debrief the negotiation. “Were you serious when you said you didn’t care about the R-Design? Seriously? How could you not care about that?”
“Yep. I could give a flip. What I really wanted were the booster seats.”
“Man I tell ya… you should be in sales.”
I am in sales, Sir. Goodbye Rat Mobile.
Hello Bat Mobile.