[Disclaimer: not Forward Look related, but I think it's a nice story
just the same]
A wise philosopher (well, actually a drunken alumni named "Crazy Goo"
from my fraternity at Penn State) once imparted upon me this one small
snippet of eternal wisdom:
"Never buy a car from a guy named Eddie."
(No offense meant to Ed Siarkowicz & Edward Petrus, of course. He
probably meant there is one particular Eddie whom I should avoid, but
that sort of spoils the magic in his wisdom now, doesn't it?)
Anyway, it's a simple warning, and pretty easy to live by. And since
most of my cars were given to me, I'm guessing some Honest Eddie the
Used Car Salesman's family isn't going hungry tonight directly due to
me, so I have no guilt about it either. But I guess if I'm really the
good-at-heart, humble, salt-of-the-Earth type, I really should avoid
stereotypes and judging people prematurely anyway.
Though that's exactly what happened to me tonight when I went to look at
the Mustang; the salesman pre-judged me as just a tire-kicker, with no
real intentions of buying the car. Quite the opposite was the case
though. On my way home, I stopped and dumped out all of my belongings
from the T-Bird, grabbed the title, and debated a few minutes over which
sunglasses looked better on a 28 year old single white guy driving his
new Mustang convertible (result: Ray-Ban Clubmasters) and drove on down
to the dealership. The conversation went a bit like this:
Salesman: "YOU'RE the guy who called about the 'vert?"
He seemed a bit indignant. Most people generally guess I'm about 40
when they speak to me on the phone.
Me: "Yes, I had a 7 o'clock appointment to look at..."
Salesman: "Yeah, yeah, go 'head look. I'll be inside."
No salesman ever takes anyone under 40 seriously for buying a classic
car...
I took a good thorough look at the car. About 20 minutes I was up,
down, over, under, etc. I noticed 2 things right away. First, the
radiator was blown and dripping fluid everywhere. Second, the price of
$5,900 was suddenly now $8,900. The "5" had delicately been made into
an "8". Great. I dropped my presumption this would be an easy buy, and
changed into my "Dave, the Salesman Slayer" persona. I leaned against
the car and looked at my watch. If you ever want an unseen salesman to
help you, lean against a car and look at your watch. They'll appear
like distant relatives after you hit the PowerBall.
Salesman: "So, you've checked her over! Whatcha think?"
Me: "Well, first, I think it was $3000 less 24 hours ago."
Salesman: "Oh, yeah, well, that was a mistake. We can't sell a classic
like this for $5,900."
Me: "Well, no, not a classic like THIS."
His eyes really cut into me, trying to feel me out, not sure if I had
intentionally just insulted the car.
Salesman: "Uh, yeah... I guess... Anyway, can I answer any questions
about her?"
Me: "Yes. It says 'One-family owned'. Whats the story, exactly?
Salesman: "The man who just traded it bought it from his daughter's
husband's mom's ex-husband."
I am not making this up.
Me: "Yes, obviously a close family."
Salesman, obviously missing the slam: "Yeah, nice people, nice people.
They don't live to far from here... The car has been in PA all it's
life, but she sure don't look it, eh? We've been all over it and
there's nothing wrong. They didn't drive it much; it's only got 75,000
miles on it. All original."
Me: "Well. I was looking for more of a daily driver..."
Salesman: "Well, they did drive it every day. It was a daily driver."
Me: "Every day? That's... well... let's see... That's 7 or 8 miles
every day, for 25 years, right?"
Salesman, smiling somewhat strangely: "Well, I guess you're the math
wiz, then!"
Me: "I guess... You just said they didn't drive it much. 7 or 8 miles
every day for 25 years isn't much... then... is it?"
Salesman, realizing he had been caught: "I guess... But no one is sure
of the actual mileage, really."
Me: "But you are, right, because you'll have the title, right? If it's
been in PA all its life, it'll be on the title. If not, it's easy to
find out for sure -- just call an inquiry into Harrisburg for the
registration records."
Salesman: "Well, I don't have to do that, you're right. The title does
say 'Exceeds the Mechanical Limits' ".
Me: "So, in other words, it's 175,000. That's what 'Exceeds the
Mechanical Limits' means. The odo has rolled..."
Salesman: "No one really knows."
At this point the salesman realized I had caught him in a lie at least 3
times, and he was obviously not going to sell me the car. He started
making some excuse about having to get back inside the showroom. I
wasn't going to let him go that easy. I had come to claim a prize. If
it wasn't going to be a 1973 Mustang Convertible, it was going to be the
head of the Bait-and-Switching salesman on a platter, served with a side
of his swallowed pride. At this point, I totally surprised him:
Me: "Okay. I'll take it. Let's talk price."
His whole attitude changed. His fish was on the hook, and ready to be
landed, as far as he was concerned.
As far as I was concerned, it was like a Bugs Bunny cartoon, where the
fish had secretly hooked the hook on the back of Elmer Fudd's pants, and
then yanked the line, watching as Elmer pulled himself right into the
water.
Hell, besides, the car wasn't all that bad anyway. For the right price,
I would forget the sinner and love the sin.
Salesman: "Well, you seem like a nice guy. I guess I can let you have
her for $8500."
Me: "Well, I am a nice guy, but YOU were a lot nicer yesterday. How's
$5500 and that T-Bird?"
Salesman: "Well, probably not that low, but let's take a look at your
car. Is this a Turbo Coupe?"
I looked at him blankly. It's the bottom of the line 'Bird with a 6
cylinder. It doesn't look anything like a Turbo Coupe. Not only is he
a bad salesman, but he can't even recognize a performance model from its
stripped cousin. He works at an Exotic & Performance used car lot, for
cripes sake. I didn't say anything.
Salesman: "Do you know what a Turbo Coupe is?"
Me laying my hand on the hood: "Yes, it's a very good trade."
He looked between me and the car really quickly. This guy couldn't
handle anything even -slightly- ambiguous. I was blowing his mind.
Salesman: "It's not inspected. It needs an uncracked windshield for
inspection. What else does it need?
Me: "What does the Mustang need? It's the only car on the lot without
a current sticker."
Salesman: "We just got it in on trade, we haven't looked at it yet."
Me: "Well, a minute ago you just said you checked her all over and
there was nothing wrong. Why didn't you put the sticker on then?"
Salesman: "Probably just didn't think of it."
I turned and looked at the Mustang: "I guess not. You go $5500 and
that T-Bird?"
Salesman: "That's a bit low. I'd like to see more like seventy five
hundred and your trade."
Me: "Yes, I bet you would... I'd like to see more like FIFTY five
hundred and that T-Bird."
I just looked at the Mustang and didn't say anything. He didn't say
anything. Hell, I could wait all night. He was getting edgy. He just
couldn't seem to land me. Next, he tried the oldest trick in the book.
Salesman: "Well, whatever, I guess, but you'll have to make up your
mind because I have a guy who loves Mustangs coming in at 7:30 who'll
probably buy it."
Me: "Really? Cool! I would love to get his opinion on it. Would you
mind if we checked it out together?"
Elmer had just yanked himself into the water.
Salesman: "Uh, yeah, sure. Okay, I guess. I'll.. uh... I'll be
inside."
I sat down in the Mustang, and put the roof down. It was 7:25. Hell,
at least I get it for a few minutes. I sat and listened to the AM radio
and looked around for "the 7:30 guy" who I knew would not be coming.
Comfy car, at least. Way '70's, but comfy.
At 7:30 he came out and tried to get my mind off of the non-existent
7:30 guy by telling me how easy parts were to get. I told him I knew
all about it, and how I run a mailing list for 55-61 MoPar owners, and I
drive a '58 Plymouth. I know all about old cars and old parts.
Well, I thought, this is getting boring. It's time to wrap it up on way
or another.
Me: "$5700 and the T-Bird, final offer"
Salesman: "That's too low. More like $7k and your trade would do it."
Me: "$7000? You know, at Spring Carlisle this year, I saw a near
perfect '73 go for $6900. The guy originally wanted 13 for it, but it
went for just 7. That's really a deal, eh? $7000 for a near mint '73.
A really good deal.".
He then surprised me by saying what has to be the stupidest, most
ironic, (but in this case, the most truthful) quote I have ever heard a
salesman say:
Salesman: "Well, that's Carlisle. This is Exceptional Motorcars, in
Pittsburgh. We don't have good deals here!"
I couldn't help it. I threw my head back and laughed my ass off. I
don't know whether or not he realized what he said, but I didn't care.
I was sitting laughing in the driver's seat of a cool old convertible on
a hot summer evening. Admittedly, it's really hard to care about
anything at that point, but I'll tell you one thing: I could swear the
car was laughing too... It had class, real class, even if it's car lot
didn't. I had gotten what I came for, and I hadn't spent a cent.
I regained my composure, and stepped out of the car, still chuckling:
"Yeah, I guess you're right... I guess you're right..."
Salesman: "Well, here's my card. If you want to talk a more reasonable
deal, give me a call".
I assured him I would, and gave him -my- card: "Likewise, likewise...
when you're more reasonable, give me a call."
The obligatory handshake, and I was gone. I don't imagine I'll be back.
And that was it.
I still have too many cars, but I have one less than I thought I would
at this time this evening.
However, if anyone out there is interested, the car isn't really all
that bad (albeit it could use a new radiator). It's at Exceptional
Motors, Glenshaw, PA.
(412) 487-5006.
Ask for Eddie Pilszak.
-Dave
|
|
Back to the Home of the Forward Look Network