[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 |