Last week, I did one of my three least favorite things. Next to going to the dentist and trudging my way through airport security, purchasing a new (actually used) car ranks right up there.
What is there not to like? Let me go over my list.
I don’t want to bond with a salesperson. I’d enjoy a little space to roam around on my own admiring the various colors (black, gray or white) of the cars without hearing that this one or that one is a real beauty.
I’d like the salesperson to know more about cars than I do, which seems like a pretty low bar to leap over. I know very little about “what is under the hood.” I assume it is a car engine. I don’t need to look and nod as if I’m impressed.
In the end, these are my final words: “Give me a car. Any car. I surrender. Please, just no more paperwork.”