Used Car Salesmen live up to their names - What do you think? Ok not all, of course. Don’t ever feel pressured to do something you don’t want to. This is the only reason, their gimmicks are still in effect.

My car as you know is on its last legs. This morning I went outside patted him and asked him to hang on just a bit longer. I was expecting him to die last year but I have been gentle. I only drive in the city and I only drive him to go shopping for groceries and other stuff. I didn’t really want the guy when I got him, but he grew on me and now that the search is on, he looks better to me. However, I know that he has had a long life and we have to say goodbye. Now, years later after buying my Miata convertible, which I loved terribly and named Billy, I am once again conducting my search and after one sleepless night, I decided to not buy my next car and you are going to hear all about it. Billy wasn’t used. He was brand new to Canada, still wrapped when I laid eyes on him. It was love at first glance and we drove all over the place and we even went to Disney World together. We were in love and I trusted him and drove him for about 17 years, where one day my mechanic at the time, said you cannot take him off the lot. He is done. I bought one off the lot at the same garage and I have been driving him carefully for the last few years. I haven’t even been to the zoo, in case he couldn’t make it back. I didn’t name this one. It was my first used car in Canada. And though he has been used and discarded, he found me. I have nurtured him the best I can but I know he is dying. And so the search began. Let’s go back to finding Billy. I knew I wanted a Miata. I went to a dealership near my home, took it for a test drive and I was super excited. I loved the convertible top down. Wait a minute. Let’s go back, back into time. Back to my first car. It was a Chevrolet Vega. I had just begun my first career. I asked my dad to lend me the money. My dad finally relented and told me that if I could save half the money for a car, he would lend me the other half. Apparently, according to my mom, he never thought I could save half the money and that is why he made the offer. But, I did and after basic training I had my first car. It served me well and then I had to go to Europe to work for four years so I gave it to my sister. My mom wasn’t too happy with me because my sister gingerly cared for it spending too much time according to my mom removing the rust and perhaps putting some money into it. I felt she got a free car, my mom thought she got a money pit. Oh well. I go to Europe and decide to ask one of the guys to go with me to look for a car. That is something I never did again. He fell in love with a Peugeot convertible and I must admit I did too. However, he was telling me to buy it and I wasn’t sure if the car was good. I bought it and there were not that many of them in Europe. It was white with brown leather seats, a soft top and a big grill at the front of the two seater with a proud lion at the front. What a beauty! We drove through much of Europe as I filled up the gas and the oil at each stop. I cannot remember how long I had her, but eventually, when trying to sell her I was so disappointed at what I was being offered that I brought it to the firehall and asked them to take her and use for training. They wanted me to pay for that and of course I said no. I sold it for barely a quarter (in cents) to a man who was married with no money. Of course, the guys I worked with were not happy, because he sold it and kept all the money. They felt he should have given me half, but quite frankly I didn’t care. I began working at the age of 13 part time and haven’t stopped since, so work is in my blood? When I wanted something I would buy it and save until I could afford it, like good ole dad taught me. So, I needed another guy and this time I left the boys at work and began my search. I really liked a British two seater. It would have been brand new but I had to wait for six months to get it. Now, I needed to borrow money to buy a car and I found out that wasn’t automatic. I went to the German bank and though the guy was very nice to me, he kind of explained why they couldn’t lend me the money. So, I went to our bank and I got to see the bank manager. I was escorted in by a woman who smirked as the manager was asking me questions such as have I borrowed money before? No (my dad wouldn’t count) and no no no to all the questions. Then he asked me how much assets I had. I believe I had about 300. which was my stereo. Now by this time, I am beginning to wonder how can I ever borrow money if it is expected that I have done so a first time, when this is my first time? However, I answered all the questions and he turned over to the woman who seemed to be enjoying herself and told her to arrange the money loan for me to buy my car. The smiling face turned into one of shock. She was no longer smirking and she quickly went to get what is done, done, when some poor soul goes to borrow money. I didn’t find any of this fun. I bought a Chevrolet Nova I believe. It was very reasonable with my discount. I had really wanted another convertible but what I liked cost about five times more. I didn’t feel the love for this vehicle. It was practical and served me well. I brought it back to Canada and when I went to pick it up, all the expensive stereo equipment I had bought for it was stolen. Sad. It was a problem at the time (now they just steal the entire car). So, then it was time to go to the Middle East and so I left my car at work and one of the guys promised to start it once in a while and of course when I returned home, six months later the battery was gone. I fixed it; drove it but it was never the same. My abandonment was too much for the car. Next I bought a Suzuki. That was a nightmare. I mention the accident of that one in my book (www.silvaredigonda.ca) There may have been one more which for some reason I have forgotten so I can assure you that it was not a convertible. Now, let’s get back to Billy. I knew I wanted my convertible once again. I knew I wanted it to be a two seater, once again and I called six dealerships trying to get the best price. I was faxing everyone at that time and when I picked the best price, he told me that he really couldn’t sell me the car for that price. What???????Now before deciding on buying this particular car I had checked out different car dealerships to see what they offered. I was stunned to see one salesman take a man’s keys and telling him, he wasn’t going anywhere until they finished the offer. The salesman was taking the man’s keys of his own vehicle. I was surprised to see the salesman still standing when I left. Obviously I would never buy a vehicle there. By the time I had decided to buy my Miata, I was getting very tired of the game playing and so what I did was call the manufacturer and tell them that I loved the Miata and explained the fiasco I had been through. They asked me for my number and called me back sending me to a woman manager just South of Richmond Hill, off of Yonge. In about 15 minutes I had completed my deal to buy the car I wanted. A male salesman when I returned to retrieve my car was complaining about the price I paid for it. That has been my favourite car to date. So, back to my present car. When I am at my dealership which I love because they give me the VIP treatment. They wash my car, provide me with free coffee, provide me with free Uber etc… I am told how expensive it is going to be to fix my car and I decide to look at their used one. I am taken to the only one I can afford according to my budget. It is the same as mine, I am told. I start it up and it bounces back. If that happened at home I may run down the friendly neighbourhood cat. I am told I have to start it with my foot on the break. “Why?” I ask. “That is how all cars are made nowadays.” I am told. I have a problem accepting that. I don’t like the idea of having my foot on the break to start it so I don’t hit the friendly cat or raccoon. We negotiate. I see a car I really like and it is a convertible. He shakes his head. He wants me to see a loan officer. I don’t want to borrow money. I must he says. Really, I must? I don’t think so. Ok, Ok, we can skip that because he is one of the big men. He is rather tall. I produce my credit card. No, no, I have to pay with a draft thing or other. Credit cards won’t pay for that amount. They caught on he says. Really? Was I born yesterday? He says the car is peppy. I don’t like peppy. The Uber driver had a peppy car and I almost asked him to stop the car because I thought I was going to throw up. I don’t want a peppy car. I say no, but thanks and I see that hint of anger. “Are you mad at me?” I ask surprised. He composes his facial expression and states no. I walk away thanking him and wondering if my car will make it home. The next day the dealership calls me and asks if I am happy with the service. I say yes. They offer me six months of free roadside service. I thank them and say I already have that service. CAA has been my lifetime buddy. Now what? I decide I want a small car. I noticed an increase of small cars and noticed the Fiat 500. What do you know? I talk to a woman who parks her little car nearby and she lets me see the inside and her trunk when I ask if I can. She has had the little car for ions and she is going to give it to her daughter or she would sell it to me. I start noticing the Fiat 500’s everywhere. One passenger of the little car also gives me the middle finger when he passes me on a small side street. I like going the speed limit. I find it amusing that a man in a little car who isn’t even the driver gets that angry over me going the speed limit. I go to the dealership where the woman who parks her car nearby goes to. I have read bad reviews but she states she has had no problems. I go and hold and behold, I see it. I am smitten. It’s not for sale but they let me go for a test drive and I fall in love all over again. It is a convertible once again with a red top and white leather interior. It is an older car and has too much mileage, but I focus with my heart and not my head. If they had accepted my offer right then and there, I would have driven off the lot. However, there were all these games once again. Write down your best offer. Really, write down a number? Is this a big firm I am bidding my salary on? You want to know what it will take for me to work here and then show me a figure much grander that I cannot say no? Come on!..Ok, I gave them the same figure I had offered and they had accepted. The games would not stop. They wanted more money and thought that badgering me would get them 300. more which is what they said was their one and final offer. Nope. I walked. “I’m not going to call you?” he angrily informs me. He is not my type so I don’t expect him to call me. Me thinks, why would I want an angry guy to call me? Please don’t. He got his employee to call me. They had accepted my offer. I wanted no more games. I wanted to ensure the vehicle was checked properly and it was found sound. Yup, yup. I get a call to come and sign the papers at the end of the day. The vehicle has been checked and is good. All ready. I am assured that there are no more games. I go again and did they check the vehicle? Of course not. The paperwork they showed me is what the dealerships checks for. It is a standard form they give to clients. There are no check boxes; no signature. There is no warranty. I walk. I am not a happy camper. I am told that this is how transactions are done. Yea, really? I find it comical that during that same night, the dealership is on my tv with an ad offering no games or gimmicks. Really???????????????? I can’t recall when I was so angry. I decide to give it a rest. My car is making louder noises. It sounds like a race car. I stop at a Ford dealer ship because my eyes see a beautiful red convertible calling my name. I am coming! I find two men in the lot walking. “Are you salesmen? “ I inquire politely. Both turn to look at me. I am immediately comfortable. These are men I am used to. They are down to earth and polite. They are (wait for it) sincere. I tell them I fell in love with the red convertible. They say it is affordable and tell me it is about 25,000. I tell them my budget and the one guy smiles at me and tells me to get my muffler fixed. I wait and call a Muffler place and as I drive there I ask my car to please make it this one last time to the garage. My poor car. I go and it is a husband and wife team. He is the mechanic of over 30 years. Was it 36 or 37? He checks my car and tells me the cost. It is cheaper than the VIP treatment place. “Take your time to think about it.” He encourages as he sees the devastation on my face. I like it that he has suggested I think about it. I say yes. He assures me it is worth it. I tell him that VIP said I only needed one part of the muffler fixed. However, he shows me the back which is about to drop any moment. I see him playing with it like a slinky toy. Ok, fix my baby. I don’t actually say that. I just state yes. They say it will take an hour. I am relieved. I walk to a nearby restaurant where they still give wonderful breakfasts for a fair price. I have my back to the wall, and watch the flow of people walking in. There is a group of men and I cannot figure out if they are from out of town and what they are doing here altogether. They are safe, no aggression. A woman starts to steal all the sugar from the tables. I find that annoying because she received the royal treatment. Of course I let the proprietor know. She grimaces and it is obvious she never knew. The lady stealing, watches me and knows that I know. She stops and returns to her seat. I have a book but find the people too interesting. Is there a character I should use in a book? I leave after paying and am pleased that I have come here. I tip and thank her and she says Ciao. I say the same. I think she believes I am Portuguese. I didn’t know they said Ciao. I have to check with my Portuguese neighbour. I return to the garage. I sit outside at one of the chairs they have available. I watch them using a torch on my car and raising the new muffler up and pinning it in place. It looks sturdy. It has been given a new life. The Mechanic tells me it is all done. We are all back in the office. I am told that the car should give me five more years. “Can I drive it on the highway?” “You can drive it anywhere.” I smile. Me thinks I can now go to the zoo. I can now drive it. “Come here in the future. Don’t go to the dealership. It's a good little car. They just want to sell you another.” I think I may just do that. It is a ma and pa shop with a local independent restaurant nearby. I shall let you know how it goes if it fails me, but I don’t think it will. My car is purring. Did I mention, there was a convertible in his lot which he wouldn’t sell me because it is his and he rarely drives it. “But I would drive it all the time.” No, he grins. I love it.”