Diary of a Car Owner

© Alan Pentland 2006

I nearly bought a car last weekend and it was a profound and moving experience. My current car has its features and fond memories but its main claim to fame is that it spans the period when petrol engines finally displaced steam as the major source of power.

So my wife and I visited a glittering and impressive car yard where we quickly made friends with a man called Craig. At first things went slowly. We looked at a car in the yard, then adjourned inside. Craig then wrote down a list of the cars best features. At first the list was things like ABS brakes, cruise control, doors that go beep, surround sound, etc. As we gradually eliminated the cars beyond our price range the lists became simpler; windows, a wheel jack, circle of dents on the bonnet that reminded Alan of a lunar landscape.

We realised it was time to up the ante and play our trump card, the trade in. After a quick inspection of our current vehicle Craig returned. Instead of money, he offered to show us a discreet rear entrance we could drive it out, so reducing the chance of running into any police road worthy checks on the way to the tip. What was wrong with these people? Call themselves car experts. Didn't they notice the valuable scratch down the side that looked just like GT stripes?

My trump card

Then I remembered my other trump card as a company employee; salary packaging and novated leasing. We had already worked through various lease scenarios with the financier, to optimise the new car purchase against my salary and the expected kilometres travelled per annum. Since the price and my salary were set, we had to do a lot of kilometres for a lease to become tax effective. In fact the car needed to be on the road 24 hours a day, with my wife and I doing continuous shifts. Getting a taxi licence might help cover the extra cost of petrol but there was no allowance for new tyres so we'd need steel wheels. It was starting to sound like a tram, but there were none in the yard at the moment. We'd hit a block.

Three Things

Then Craig did the thing that we had both been eagerly waiting for. He pushed the lists aside and laid down his pen. He gave us both that slightly flickering look of earnest sincerity that used car sales men seem to do so well and said, “Let's remember there are three things that you want to get from here today.”

I was impressed. This was the high point... three things. These weren't just glib lines learnt by rote. These weren't empty words trotted out to every customer. These were the three things Craig was offering to clinch the deal, to win our business.

I was on the edge of my seat. Up till that point I was only aware of one thing that I wanted, a car. Now Craig was offering me three. I got so excited waiting to see which of the three things would actually be the car, that I forgot the other two almost immediately. I think one of them involved going home without the burden of a lot a money and the other was something about a feeling of eternal bliss. We were finally dealing.

That was when I felt we let Craig down. He had done his best, offered a price that was now so low it was only available that day, in the remaining 27 minutes before close of business and even then was threatening to jeopardise his career and the profitability of the company. And still we couldn't meet it.

A miracle

Then a miracle happened. like a man possessed Craig paused and went silent. I think I even detected a twitch or flicker pass through his body. As though by magic, salvation appeared in the form of the yard manager, Andy.

Andy started to explain that there were three things we wanted to get from here today, but Craig quickly cut him off explaining that we already knew the three things.

Andy then offered to jeopardise his career by reducing the price further. Then he jeopardised his general manager's career by reducing it yet again. With the fate of the entire Australian car industry hanging in the balance we still couldn't find it in ourselves to sell our three year old into slavery, as a down payment for the vehicle on offer. We left empty handed and in disgrace. It was a sad moment.

The very next day we received a personally printed letter from Andy and Craig thanking us for the visit. Then there were follow up phone calls to check how we were going. We had let them down so badly and yet they forgave us. If ever you wanted an affirmation of human goodness this was it. I felt enriched by the experience. Without looking for it, we had discovered true goodness in unexpected places. Now all we need is a car at the right price.

PS. I'm thinking of donating the old car to science, as a research project, exploring the differing effects of rust on recent metal alloys and plastic trim. That's rusting too.

PPS. An odd use of words; when they call a car an Executive model it means it's the bottom of the range.