5 Tips for Buying a Certified Used Car from a Dealership

I grew up in the suburbs and was fortunate that my parents provided me with a vehicle once I became of driving age.  Due to a wild constellation of facts, I have a long list of cars in my driving history.  To wit (in order of appearance):

1984 Honda Prelude
2000 Toyota Corolla
2004 Toyota Camry
2002 Acura MDX
1999 Volkswagen Passat
2004 Volvo S80
2002 Volvo S40
2014 Toyota Prius V

The two Volvos were my foray into buying from private parties on Craigslist.  Given that I just bought the Prius yesterday, certified used from a dealership, I thought I'd share some tips on the car-buying experience and insights I've gained on the question of whether to buy from a dealer vs. private party.

If buying from a dealer:

1. Break your visit up into different days. Even in the nicest, most consumer-friendly and patient of dealerships, the fact is, a dealership is a car store, and they do everything in their power to make buying the car appealing.  And by "appealing," I also mean "easier than resisting" and "a way to get the torture over with."  It can take a long time to look at cars and arrive at a reasonable price (it took us 6 hours, but we also had to feed a baby and change a diaper).  Once you've gotten to that point, stop. Cool off.  Return in a few days when you are fresh to sign paperwork (took another 2 hours).
2. Sign the stuff YOU want to know about 1st, before you get weary and tired.  I would suggest looking at the warranty documents 1st, making sure all pages are in place, and signing those.  Next, the loan document.  There will be a GIANT stack of documents to sign.  Remember, you have the power, and until the loan document is signed, you hold the power.  Why not sign the documents in the order you would like to?  There is a "sales order"-looking document that you will have to sign.  I'm inclined to say this document is not binding.  Take a look at the language.  I will scan and upload images of the documents I was faced with to help guide you through this process.  Some documents are just there to tire you out or make you think you have reached the point of no return.
3. Bring a calculator, pen, a pad of paper, and some post-its.  They're asking you to spend 1000s of dollars.  There's no shame in wanting the terms laid out, taking time to calculate things, etc.  They're doing all of that in their office--why shouldn't you be able to, as well? 
4. Bring snacks, take breaks, and remember you have the power, even when you are in the Finance person's office.  She will be intimidating (maybe in a friendly way), talk like you've already purchased the car, and make it incumbent upon YOU to stop the train, inconvenience her, make a scene, and say no.  SAY NO.  Say you need time.  Walk away.  She's the real salesperson in the dealership.  And a formidable one.  They make it seem like they're doing you a favor by selling you a car.  You gotta be kidding me!  This is the one store I know of where they bully you into buying things.
5. Don't get too excited about the warranties.  Just don't.  Don't count on them when you buy the car and don't buy any extras.  

Overall, the experience was mildly entertaining, very enlightening, incredibly exhausting, intimidating, and a little insulting to my intelligence.  I'm frugal, a savvy consumer, and have a formal background in reading fine print.  The dealership treated me politely.  Nonetheless, I left feeling a touch bullied by the Finance Manager.  I can only imagine how abused and taken advantage of your everyday buyer must feel, and even moreso if you are less empowered due to language ability, perceived naivete, etc.

Fresh off the dealership experience, I'd say I prefer a private party sale with a pre-purchase inspection from a mechanic I trust over a dealership sale almost any day.  Private party sales are more fun and don't leave you feeling like you just overpaid to participate in the consumer-financing-industrial complex.

The Onus of Owning

Some good stuff on downsizing going on in these minimalist, recession days.

The Uniform Project (super cool clothing experiment. Thanks to my sister Ruthie for letting me know about this when it started!)

Tiny Houses (as soon as I find a good plot of land!). Love this tiny house, too.

And of course, The New York Times is covering all of it.

I'm not the Times, but I think I have written a few times about my own ambivalence towards and feelings of being burdened by possessions. I hate them. I hate acquiring them, I hate living around them, and most of all, I hate schlepping them. Thankfully, because I've moved abodes and/or changed states at least every 12 months* for the past several 13 years, I have kept my number of large possessions to a minimum (damn you, sea green metal medical cabinet). And each time I move, I purge a little more.

Currently, my mega-burdens are paper, clothing, and toiletries. And interestingly, the burden part of the equation comes largely from all the acquisitions I made (or gifts I received) from childhood through college. Yes, I'm a recovering packrat, and with the luxury of a stable childhood home and my own bedroom, I have a lifetime's worth of toiletries, perfume, and hair styling products.

I'm working on scanning the paper into oblivion, and I've started shampooing with my hand soap and rubbing myself frequently with all the exfoliants, moisturizers, and healing oils, but I'm always going to want to be surrounded by clothes. It's not that I'm buying new attire--I just love digging through my existing collection.

I'm glad I have experience with living with a small wardrobe. From 2003-2004, I went on a self-induced clothing diet. I was living in Los Angeles with only the carry-on suitcase I'd flown there for the weekend with. I had a dress, 1 or 2 pairs of pants, 3 or 4 shirts, and a t-shirt and shorts for working out. Jewelry consisted of two rings. It was enough variety that I wasn't wearing the same thing every single day, but I remember the excitement and fulfillment I felt when I returned to North Carolina and had full access to my entire wardrobe. I am winnowing my clothing habits down in one important way, though--quality over quantity.

I get inspired by reminding myself that I want my own tiny little house some day. Or, of course, a vintage Airstream. Could it be that the real estate one aspires to guides their life choices? E.g., picket-fenced house leads to need of husband to fit in which leads to need to birth kids to fit in which leads to need for new washer/dryer to fit in which leads to need to send daughter to ballet to fit in which leads to...

*Exception: from 2005-2007, I stayed in the same apartment for 2 years straight!

Home Furnishings

A few months ago, Facebook was besieged by a plague of lists wherein people would share things about themselves. Not usually one to engage in mass hysterics, I would have sat this one out per usual, but my sister suggested we should both participate out of familial duty since our cousins had expressed interest in our doing so. Of course, I ended up the George to her Jerry, detailing various perceived idiosyncracies about myself in a painstaking act of reveal-thy-self, while she never quite got around to it. Bah humbug.

In that list (see below), I mentioned that home furnishings stress me out. Example: behold my teacups! I love them, but the thought of having to keep up with them and ensure their safety as I move from place to place is enough to make me want to just sell them off right now.

The List 25
1. Facebook stresses me out sometimes (case in point right here), as do doormen, home furnishings, and non-hair-related conversations with hairstylists.

2. I recently discovered that my abdomen has an onion intolerance, not the six embryos I had originally suspected.

3. I used to think I should live without regrets, but now I think that my regrets teach me important life lessons.

4. I start counting my regrets at kindergarten (because my pre-school self just didn't know any better).

5. All of my regrets involve interpersonal relationships, which I am terrible at navigating (but I'm sure you already knew that).

6. My first regret stems from the first day of kindergarten, when I was so relieved that Amy Smialowicz asked me to play that I am quite sure that I did not turn back to wave goodbye to my mother.

7. My second regret is that I never thanked Amy Smialowicz for asking me to play.

8. I attended four colleges in four years.

9. I resent all the other April Changs in the world for diluting the powerful cachet attached to my name.

10. A placenta once fell onto my shoe. The stain just recently faded.

11. I have a recurring nightmare where I fail my childhood piano teacher.

12. I'm interested in living in a commune of people who are successful, intelligent, and don't make me vomit. Please send leads.

13. I secretly wish everyone knew about my blog.

14. I took a weekend trip to Los Angeles with nothing but a carry-on suitcase and ended up staying there for a year.

15. I went nuts wearing my entire wardrobe when I returned from LA, but now I want to go back to having no belongings.

16. I grew up watching almost 40 hours of television per week.

17. Some jobs I've had: blueberry picker, street hustler (of comedy tickets), Pepsi Challenge promotional photographer, birth doula, nanny, telemarketer. This list is still growing.

18. Masseuses always tell me I'm flexible and have soft skin, but I think that's because they're used to hairy old people.

19. I once had an eyelash that was 1.5 inches long. I wanted to submit it to Guinness, but I couldn't find a photographer with both the skillz and willingness to photograph my novelty act.

20. As a child, I tried to domesticate a fly by trapping it in a plastic container and naming it Fred. To my horror, he died a few days later.

21. I also once used my Care Bear stuffed animal to mop up spilled apple juice.

22. And would stuff half-eaten hot dogs under the couch.

23. And would bite the edge of an oblong throw pillow and thrash it around while calling it a hot dog.

24. Self-checkout terminals have allowed me to live out my lifelong dream of being a grocery store clerk.

25. I have four alarm clocks and can sleep through all of them.

Tired and Feathered

Yowzers!

I recently moved, and for the first time in all the many times I've lived in NYC, I must furnish my living space from scratch.

It's been a struggle, to say the least. Furniture is expensive, so I definitely can't buy it all at once, and locating furniture and other home furnishings that are at once space-appropriate and consistent with my aesthetic goals compounds the difficulte. Not to mention the financial and physical challenge of hauling something to my apartment or being home Monday-Friday during the day to accept a delivery.

Aside: why do furniture stores for Manhattanites even sell full-sized couches and dining tables? Surely
# of shoebox apartments > # of properly proportioned apartments here, non?

Aaanyway, to add more financial insult to financial injury and more hassle to hassle, my existing possessions are deteriorating rapidly (see earlier post entitled "10-year replacement cycle"). Case in point: my down comforter. I woke up one chilly November morning to find my bed and person covered in loose feathers. Covered! Tarred and feathered, minus the tar. It was as if a gaggle of girls had taken over my bedroom under the cover of night and thrown the archetypal slumber party. I wonder how many secrets got whispered behind hands and into ears that night. I hope it was a lot, and I hope they were juicy because otherwise I'm suffering for nought.

Oh my god. It was such an utter desastre in my apartment and covered me so completely from head to toe in feathers that I had two, count 'em TWO strangers who saw me that morning inquire as to what on earth happened to me.

Ugh. Fortunately, today, I finally purchased a new comforter. Now, if I could just get my hands on a decent broom.

no more delays

i've been giving much thought to my future (what's left of it, egads) and have come to the conclusion that i need to stop delaying what i expect my life to be. if i expect it to be X, then it should be X right now, not later, when A, B, & C happen and Y finally falls into place. make it X now.

--

in consequence, i've been mulling over some major life decisions of late. my conclusions are still incomplete, but the most valuable aspect of my racing mind is the sensation that i need to come to grips with the reality of my life as i never have before. this is my life. i can't keep wishing or waiting for it to be something else--it is what it is. and if it is not what i've been waiting for it to be, then i need to stop waiting. i need to make it what i wish it to be right here and now.

--

* * *

--

i am many things at heart, one of which is a yuppie, through and through. on valentine's day, the new york times ran an article about the eyesore that a house becomes once children enter the scene (read the article, "Parent Shock: Children Are Not Décor," here).

--

it may be that everything i read these days lights a fire under my ass, but this article lit an atomic bomb. it resonated with a lot of my recent thinkings. in sum, it interviews 3+ couples who had just gotten to a place in their lives when they could get their house interiors the way they wanted, and then they had children and the decor went to hell (ugly children's toys, begrudging safety precautions, etc.).

--

i'm 28, and though i have great interest in interior design, i have thus far delayed having a home of any permanence or aesthetic accomplishment due to what i have perceived as my transitory life. granted, i've lived a more transitory life than many others, but shouldn't i breathe fullness into each step i take? if i keep postponing the transformation of a living space into the coveted paradise i fantasize about in my head, then i may never get around to having that paradise.

--

corollary - am i:

1. who i strive to be
2. who i am on occasion
3. who i am usually or
4. who i end up being through inadvertance?

likewise, if i keep postponing the proper routine of domesticity that i want to have, then i will never have such a routine, and i will never be the person i want to be (e.g., i'm not martha stewart until i act like martha stewart).

--

* * *

--

i've focused this discussion on interior design, but the thought process i'm teasing apart is applicable to all facets of my life. distilled down, it amounts to two maxims:

1. don't delay
2. be what i want to be & live the life i want to live right here and now

i'm eustressed and distressed with these revelations. i feel i'm seeing things with a clarity that is unprecedented. and for the first time in my life, i know that i'm on the brink of something good.

Screw!

In my ongoing struggle to 1) have storage space and 2) get moved in, I managed to a) use my new drill and b) create a huge hole in the wall. I have no idea if I used the drill properly [in the past 3 years I have lost all interest in reading instruction manuals], nor am I sure that making that big hole advances my purpose. But drilling is fun. Plus, that big hole will give me an excuse to one day go to Home Depot to figure out how to patch it up so I can get my security deposit back.

I went to Home Depot today, in fact, and experienced the joy of the shop class I never took. I asked a fellow customer for assistance with drywall/hollow wall screw toggles or whatnot (look at me, the quick study). He was both knowledgable and obviously a screwing enthusiast. It always tickles me how interested complete strangers (usually men) have in anyone and everyone's building and vehicular projects. I also thoroughly enjoy how these people can have an entire conversation about intentions, specifications, and strategies. I desperately want to join this coterie, but I feel like there are so many fundamentals that I have absolutely no idea about. What is a hollow wall? What is drywall? I need a handymannery for dummies book.

Anyway, it looks like I got the wrong screws, so I have to go back to Home Depot tomorrow to buy this other type I had my eyes on. And my progress at moving in is once again stalled. Arrgh. With all this trouble I'm going through, I better stay in this apartment for at least 2 years.

Settling In

It is with great pleasure that I report that Lil' Puff, Platypus, and Icee Bear have barely missed a beat in getting settled right in to their new abode.

Ambition Moved

[Sunday, September 02, 2007]

we just finished driving up to nyc last night in a 15-foot moving truck. this is larger than those small uhauls you see people driving around and way too big for my purposes. (note: i drove a budget truck, which was less than half the price of a uhaul). i've driven up on the curb about 5 times but have had only 1 near-accident! ideally i'll ditch this thing today--finding parking with a clearance of 11 feet is difficult.

those of you who like my detailed planning will share my disappointment in this: ikea's ivar shelves are the solution to my small space storage problem. the pieces i need to build what i need were not all in stock at a single ikea, so i stopped at ikea in virginia and maryland on the way up. the most elusive but critical piece, 89" x 12" side units, was only in stock in maryland per the internet. and yet, the side units were out of stock by the time i arrived. looks like my tiny-ass bedroom will have to remain cluttered for a little while longer.

i am mostly moved in--just a few boxes and some big items left in my moving truck that i'm going to have to figure out how to sneak into the building--apparently the hoity-toity only move furniture mondays through fridays (today is sunday).

since i embarked on this move, i have avoided a $300 fine and a $500 fine, but my luck may soon run out. the $300 fine was for bringing Lil' Puff into my hotel room Friday night when pets are not allowed--Orbitz told me otherwise, and the hotel management reluctantly relented. i think the housekeeper ratted me out. the $500 fine, which remains a possibility, is for moving furniture in a non-freight elevator. freight elevators only operate during the week. as it is currently the weekend, you see my quandary. i played the fool and moved a full-sized box spring (that's right - homegirl's finally gonna have a real bed, a high bed, and a real high bed!) up the normal elevator last night. fortunately, the doorman played it cool, but then his shift ended.

despite the painstaking calculations of my room dimensions and furniture arrangements, with furniture, the place feels incredibly small now that stuff is actually in it. guests, who are warmly welcomed, will be sleeping right by my side. i have an uncommonly expansive view, which helps reduce the cramped feel, though.

my building is pure yuppie ambition with a hot and fast pulse. it seems to consist exclusively of 24- to 28-year old bankers, brokers, and analysts socializing like they're still in college while each alone is making enough money to comfortably support a family of 4 in middle America. hordes of dudes in the nyc night-on-the-town uniform of straight-legged jeans, dark button-down shirt (untucked, of course), and a touch of gel in the hair. pairs of scantily clad mediocre-looking honies navigating the streets. this was saturday night. i'm expecting all drones in suits during the week.

i'll email my new mailing address to anyone who wants to send me toenails.