“Step right up, ladies and gentlemen! That's right, don't be afraid; there's a spot here in front, young man. Step right up!”

SEE treasures from around the world!

EXPERIENCE the wonders!

HEAR the lack of pinging noises!

Er, what? Oh, didn't I mention? Welcome to the wonderful world of car shopping, where your every dream will offered to you, your every whim catered to, all for a low monthly payment and little to no interest down.

I was recently informed by my mechanic that my car had about as much chance of lasting through the summer as would an ice cream bar left out on the porch swing in August, with about the same result if I was to risk it. Not wanting to be inside of my car if it were to happen to unceremoniously melt while attempting to hit cruising speed on I44, I reluctantly entered the world of automotive wheels and deals.

“Reluctantly,” because I rather liked my car (I grow attached to things like that, even when the passenger door doesn't work, the engine leaks fluids like a Jonas Brother leaks tears, the suspension is shot, and the ignition only works fifty percent of the time). “Reluctantly,” also because I have a tendency to buy the first shiny thing I see when it comes to cars, rather than getting what I've always wanted: a Jeep or a convertible.

Since I have no willpower, I knew I'd be susceptible to the wily machinations of the car dealership barkers. I just KNEW I'd be ending up with a two-door sub-compact with an 8-track player where the radio was supposed to be.

Even with that foreknowledge, though, I wasn't expecting the circus.

The first car dealership I dealt with played a version of a Carnival Midway's Three-Card Monty, except instead of shuffling cards around so you don't know what is what, they used salespeople. I talked to no fewer than four of 'em (and it might have been five -- they started to look alike).

Salesman 1: Let me talk to my supervisor about that.

Salesman 2: I'm that guy's supervisor. Here's a deal. Wait, let me let you talk to my boss.

Salesman 3: I'm that guy's boss. Here's a deal. Wait, let me get my manager.

Salesman 4: Hey, I'm that guy's managers. Here's a deal for you. Wait, who offered you what, earlier?

Salesman 1: I'm scared.

The second dealership I went to used the disappearing salesman trick (perfected by Houdini in the 20s). The standard practice in car shopping is that there is a price stickered onto the car (generally on a piece of pastel-colored cardboard cut out into a “starburst” shape, possibly even including one or more exclamation marks, like so: DEAL! LOW MILES! MORE EXCLAMATION POINTS THAN CARS ON OTHER LOTS!!!!!). The dealer comes out and says, “Yeah, that's what we've got on it. But what would you like to give for it?” Then, when you tell him, he says, “Okay, let me go talk to my boss about it.” He does (or pretends to, anyway), then comes back and says, “ I can't come down that low. But it's a slow day, so here's what I can do for you: we can meet somewhere in the middle.”

At this particular dealership, I made my offer, but since the “boss” was in a meeting, the salesman told me he'd give me a call when they'd talked it over.

It's now been over a week and though I've been waiting by the phone, I'm beginning to suspect that I won't be getting that call.

The third place I went (okay, really it was more like the fifteenth) was some distance out of town. I'd seen a car posted on the dealership's website and had arranged to test drive it. I went down, drove it, made an offer, was surprised that the counter-offer was pretty close to what I'd asked for, paid for it, and drove my new car off the lot; well, drove my used car off the lot.

I didn't even have to step in any elephant dung on my way out of the dealer's office, or have to try to fit me and my friends into a teeny tiny clown car.

Deal of the century.

*

The author's “new” car is a 2002 Chrysler Sebring convertible, the most inexpensive and ubiquitous convertible on the highways. But he still likes it. If you would like to send him pictures of your own Sebring convertible, please do.

 ["The author's new car, Frannie."]