The car of a girlfriend of mine recently died, or rather, as is so often the case, it required yet another costly repair that ultimately is not worth it. Time to go car-shopping. Due to her limited budget, and hoving to the Car Talk guys’ sage advice, she wants to get a used car, in decent condition, with not too many miles on it. We were talking about this because I have bought several used cars over the years. So I said to her: good luck, honey!
Car-shopping is a challenge, to be sure. It is a big purchase for most everybody, undertaken with some trepidation, some concern about not getting a lemon or buying somebody else’s money pit, some anxiety about getting into debt (many of us cannot buy a car with cash, outright), and maybe a dash of excitement or anticipation (gawd, how nice it will be to get behind the wheel, turn a key, and have the dang thing reliably start up!).
Car-shopping is also, I must allow, a special challenge for the single, unaccompanied woman. I have experienced this, and my friend will discover it is unfortunately so. Car salesmen are, overwhelmingly, men, and they tend to assume that women don’t know a damn thing about cars or engines or even cutting a fair car-loan deal. I actually had a guy at Subaru of Wakefield say dismissively to me, when I inquired about the condition of the car I was considering, “Oh, don’t worry, it’s clean.” Clean?! I can freaking Windex a car till it shines and vacuum the interior, too, bucko! I want to know about the condition of the engine! Another fellow, when I approached him and stated my parameters, said, “What color would you prefer?” and “Some of our models have very nice sound systems,” as if I was buying a new dress.
I am not going to wax indignant about sexist car salesmen here, however. Look at how cars are generally marketed in TV and print ads: on appearance, on “feel” or “spirit.” For instance, the new Camaro slogan is “If you are what you drive, why not be hot?” And the Lincoln mini-van campaign touts “Inner space/Outer beauty.” A car purchase is assumed to be an emotional, not a logical, decision.
Unlike my girlfriend, I was lucky to have a dad who taught me a bit about cars and engines. In fact, when I was in college and he and my mom passed their trusty old VW Bug to me, he had successfully taught me how to change its oil, do a tune-up, and inflate its tires to the proper pressure. The car came with a toolbox and, of course, that wonderful book, The Idiot’s Guide to the Volkswagen, which, you may recall with a fond grin, had a wonderful cartoon illustration on the cover of a fellow opening the front of the car to look for the engine, thought-bubble over his head full of question marks (back then, the VW Bug’s engine was in the back). I still remember the instructions for adjusting the valves: “Get under the car, into position, your back cushioned or comfortable, and look up. Now, adopt a Zen-like patience...” But I digress. My point is, my first car gave me some knowledge and confidence that I would not be one of those car-helpless females.
Since then, engines are no longer air-cooled, and cars have ship-board computers that even accomplished mechanics lament about. So, to be completely fair, both women and men these days don’t often work on their own cars or really understand their own engines.
Nor do the salesmen, I suspect. This distresses and annoys me greatly. When I go into a liquor store and want to buy a nice bottle of Zinfandel in the $15 range, I have found a knowledgeable salesperson on the floor willing to show and discuss my options with me. I have even found good help in a department store when shopping for a dress! (Do not get me started on the lamentable state of sales help in the big box stores, however.) I find it downright alarming—and, ultimately, to me the consumer, insulting—when I go car-shopping and the guy doesn’t know his products. “It’s clean”?! Once I had a used car out on a test drive—by law or dealership policy, the salesman accompanied me on the ride—and I remarked, “Hmm, this clutch feels a bit spongy...is it the original?” He looked startled, “Uh, I have no idea.” No idea? You mean you want me to part with a huge pile of my money (or go into debt for same) and you cannot even tell me about the product? Good grief.
So I wish my girlfriend good luck as she undertakes this irritating process. Nor did I suggest she bring along her boyfriend, dad, or brother (though it is possible that if she did, the salesman would talk to or make most of his eye contact with him, and not her). I did give her my best piece of advice, though: knowledge is power.
These days, when you car-shop, you can go online beforehand and learn a lot, whether you go the private-seller/Craigslist route or the car dealership route. You can research the makes and models you like on websites like Edmunds.com, where you can also poke around in the chatrooms. (This is how I learned that old Volvo wagons are often susceptible to costly electrical problems.) If you find a particular car you want to check out, you may be able to score service records and/or the CarFax report, items that ought to reveal major repairs, former owners, and even bad events such as accidents and flood damage.
When you go to meet the car of your dreams, look before you leap. It takes no expertise, only common sense, to detect if a car has been cared for—which, of course, is always a good sign. Fluids, and their compartments or containers, should look clean and not be crud-encrusted or low. It’s easy to tell if hoses under the hood and the tires are worn.
If you are not a motorhead and are buying from a private party, and even if you are not, it’s always wise to have your choice blessed by a trusted mechanic before you lay your money down. When I bought a used car from a local woman, she had no problem with this (I paid, of course; my mechanic didn’t charge me much). When I bought a used car from a dealership, they balked, reluctant to let the car go so far from its berth. I had to put down a (refundable) deposit and their salesman had to drive it to my mechanic’s shop, which he did, very sulkily. (Oh. Pardon me for wanting to know what I am buying, mister.) In the case of the private purchase, the engine was fine, though I was alerted to the upcoming need for a clutch (which I was willing to invest in and the seller was not—so it goes). In the case of the dealer car, my mechanic found that the front brakes were shot—my pouting salesman expressed surprise and chagrin—and so I cut a deal to buy the car for the asking price less the cost of the brake job. Oh, snap!
In the end, you may very well find that you know the product better than the person selling it. Good. Do that. It’s YOUR money, girl, not to mention your safety and peace of mind. Drive a good bargain.
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I went to K Mart looking for something that the product's website stated K Mart carried. I looked where logic suggested it would be stocked but didn't see it. So I went to customer-servic e and asked if they could tell me if and where the item would be in stock.
"No, I can't," was the reply.
I asked again, rephrasing the question, incredulous, but finally I was told, "If you have the UPC label, I could tell you."
Of course, the only place to find the UPC label is on the item. In that case, my hunch is wouldn't have needed her to tell me if they carried it.