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.

fyi

also, my old therapist is going to get a fine knuckle sandwich from me the next time i see him.

the square community

i suppress 85% myself in my working life. is this choice or necessity? i feel it's necessity. in an effort to be who they want me to be, i feel i can't be me, and so i turn into an empty canvas. no personality, no opinions, no style.
--
i've been waging a war against the square community for almost a decade now, and it's starting to feel like the squares are winning. they're making me bland. i'm conforming to their lackluster desires. i'm wearing their lackluster clothing and following their lackluster schedule and letting their pathetic hopes, dreams, fears, comforts, and existence seep into mine.
--
i need to move to an abandoned warehouse in the country.
--
i need to know what claude monet and rainer maria rilke did besides paint and write.
--
these 2 writings are helpful:

1) Failure is the best thing ever because it broadens your horizons and equips you in ways success never could - an article in Men's Health (as posted in someone else's blog). Excerpt:

--

Maybe failure isn’t the problem. Maybe expectation is.
--

After I was fired from my TV show, I was certain I’d never work in television again. I’d been given a great opportunity and blown it. The studio and network were out millions of dollars. But then the phone started ringing, with studios and networks asking whether I’d consider doing TV again. What had changed?
--

Nothing. I’d simply forgotten what folks working in TV take as a given: Most shows fail. Every spring, the networks introduce new products to replace the fall and winter die-off. When a show tanks, they don’t spend weeks wondering why. They put a new show in its place.
--

They expect failure, and are delighted when it doesn’t come.
In the case of Tom, my hunch is that he’d become stuck in an expectation loop. He’d spent years carefully mapping out his ascent: student-body president, law-school review, a great internship. He expected to succeed - we all should - but he hadn’t considered alternate paths to success. One misstep sent him scrambling, questioning all his other assumptions. Of course, it’d be wrong for me to write Tom off. Maybe his latest failure will force him to reassess his expectations. Maybe it’ll be what finally propels him to success.
--

Most of us will never run a TV show or run for elected office. But we will all fail, repeatedly. Failure is a universal condition. We lose our jobs; we lose our marriages; we lose to the dealer’s flush in Vegas.
--

When these traumas happen, we generally find ourselves on the familiar Kübler-Ross stages of loss: denial and isolation, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. But how we cope is less important than how we remember the experiences afterward. The best failures aren’t forgotten; they’re incorporated into our life’s narrative.
--

My D.C. debacle, as miserable as it was to live through, has become a cherished memory. It’s a small scar that invites a big story, with big personalities. At first, I framed myself as the innocent victim in the drama, but over the years I came to view the whole thing as more of a hurricane that we all weathered together.
The great thing about surviving a storm is that you’re much better prepared the next time the winds start kicking up. You recognize the early warnings. You stock up on essentials. And, most crucial, you go in knowing that no matter what happens, you can always rebuild.
--

Failure makes you ready in ways that success never could.
--

The next time I found myself pitching a show, I had a much clearer idea of what I wanted. I knew what I was good at and what I was better off delegating to others. I knew that as much as I believed in the show, if it all went south, I’d be okay.
--

Because I’d failed, I wasn’t afraid of failing. And that enabled me to push a lot harder for what I believed in.
--

The movie is unconventional and questionably commercial. In its wildest success, it might play festivals and arthouses before hitting DVD. Given all these risks, why do it?
--

Because even in failure, I knew I’d grow from it. There were things I needed to learn about movies - and myself - that I wasn’t going to learn from writing another script.
--

It’s just like weight training, really. You push yourself until your muscles fail. That’s how you grow stronger. Likewise, in life, unless you seek you’ll never mentally develop beyond that scrawny kid from high school.
--

That’s why you have to drop to one knee and propose to the girl you’re pretty sure you love. That’s why you have to send out your résumé, even though your job is just fine. That’s why you have to climb that 14,000-foot mountain. It won’t always work out. You may get divorced. Or fired. Or frostbitten. But the alternative is a life of vague disappointment.
--

When that nagging little voice pops up, wondering what’s going to happen if you fail, just ignore it. Yes, it’s hard. As humans, we’re programmed for loss aversion. But money is just money. Your job is just your job. Your life - the adventure of your life - is all you really have that’s yours.
--

When things go wrong, when you’re sliding toward an unavoidable crash, don’t panic. In those long seconds before the impact, look around and figure out how you entered into this mess. Think about how you’ll frame the story a year from now, over a few beers. Can you come up with an honest version that ends, “So in a funny way, it was the best thing that ever happened to me”?
--

Perfect. Then brace yourself.

--

2) Perhaps it's time to take a leap instead of muddling through - Passion Ave & Conformity St, a blog post about making a choice when faced with crossroads. Not all that insightful in and of itself, but it does have that great title and these quotes that make me restless and keep me questioning work, my job, money, life, etc.:

--

Work is necessary: “Without work, all life goes rotten. But when work is soulless, life stifles and dies.” —Albert Camus

--
Stupid 401k: “Chase your passion, not your pension.”— Denis Waitley
--

Don't settle: “Is not life a hundred times too short for us to bore ourselves?”—Friedrich Nietzsche
--

Need to love the work: “With out passion you don’t have energy, with out energy you have nothing.”— Donald Trump

--

The time is now: “Waste no more time talking about great souls and how they should be. Become one yourself!”-Marcus Aurelius Antoninus
--

You have to try: “Do the one thing you think you cannot do. Fail at it. Try again. Do better the second time. The only people who never tumble are those who never mount the high wire. This is your moment. Own it.”-Oprah Winfrey

To Do (Long-Run)

There are some things I keep thinking about doing that I cannot forget about. To help me remember to look into them, I'm recording them here.

1. relocating to that beachy area of Thailand that it was said I would enjoy (I think b/c language issues + __?? + low cost of living) - but med care, etc. (Mark)
2. relocating to India (e.g., Banjara Hills) - but how sustain self, not lose mind, etc.?
3. living full-time in an RV - ask Ruthie about boatlife b/c is very similar (small space, community); sewage situation; storage
4. horse as primary means of transport ($200/month to maintain or was it $2k/yr?) (Dead Broke horse farm)
5. commune - but what members + cult problems
6. house of extended family/ies (Tom Cruise allegedly, ancient times)
7. move to Hudson, NY
8. Gozo, Malta

Responsibility, Again

Had my first visitors, per se, this past week. My parents! They stayed 1 week, which is 3 more days than my usual limit. I was sad (as opposed to relieved) to see them go. And in true self-alienating fashion, I got a dash misty per my usual post-2003 emotionality. I took the bus/train back from the airport, which took maybe 2 hours because the NY Marathon required us to take a detour into the Bronx. During this time, my disheveled person slept, brainstormed, and gave thought to my sadness.

---

For about 15 minutes I thought it was the dawn of a new era of maturity (read: nasty oldness) in my life, in which I could actually enjoy my parents as people. Then I thought it was instead a reflection of grave immaturity, wanting to forever have the role of daughter/child, rather than self-sufficient adult. With my parents around, I get to assume that role, indulgently and conveniently escaping what feels like the crushing burdens of working life and adulthood. (N.B. I think this is also partly why I turned to my parents after having that bad week at work--desire to re-enter the cocoon of childhood and have the feeling that the realities of my life are not reality at all, but mere dalliances without any real significance). I was going to offer a third theory, but the more I write about the 2nd theory re: the eternal child, the more I think it is spot-on. For posterity's sake, I'll advance the third: it is an indication that I am missing people more than I realize. This is true, I'm sure, and in fact, I think I realize how much I miss people. So that theory can be disposed of quite readily.

---

The important nugget to glean is the following: I see now with pristine clarity that what I enjoyed about my parents' visit was their enormous capacity to allow me the freedom to feel unresponsible. As much as I worry about them, they still manage to give me that luxury. Wearing a suit, for example, loses all importance when worn in the presence of my parents. It becomes a silly and unnecessary costume. "All that fuss," as my mom said. The perspective they give me on the idiocy of my job is much-needed and refreshing, but even more precious is the sense that my entire foray into the working world period, with all its misery and obligation, is pure recreation on my part, rather than a necessity. I was sad to see them go and to know that with them went my footloose and fancy-free psyche. Back to adult professional workhorse, for as long as I can stand it.

Addendum - Cancer or VA Tech

I thought it went without saying that I found what I was looking for when I called my parents seeking their comfort. Feedback I have received from you faithful readers, however, suggests otherwise. Thus, know this: my parents have made me feel a lot better about my job, both during that initial conversation wherein I spilled the beans and in subsequent conversations.

--

My father, in particular, has given me tremendous advice, including such various and sundry anecdotes as: (1) his trials and tribulations on the rugby team that practiced 7 days/week come rain, sleet, hail, snow, or suffocating humidity and (2) the shaolin temple for disciples of kung fu.

--

I love my parents and their vivid responses to my life.

Cancer or VA Tech

It's been a long time since I have felt the need or desire to be comforted by my parents. Swaths of differences keep us emotionally separated, so once my needs evolved from a) a desire for sympathy due to a cold/headache to b) a desire for guidance or wisdom (which was probably around the age of 13), I found myself relying on other sources.

--

Last week was extremely difficult at work. I couldn't eat, and yes, I shed some tears. I then surprised myself (this seems to happen often lately - recall: St. John suit) when I decided I wanted to call home at the end of the week to tell my parents about how awful things were going.

--

I reiterate that my parents and I are not close--I don't keep them updated on my life outside of the big, completely unconcealable events, e.g., moving out of the state, starting school, etc. and the small, completely meaningless events, e.g., where I buy my groceries, because anything in the middle ground does nothing to my parents (read: my mother) but elicit disproportionate, if not completely unwarranted, worry, stress, or pity. [Note: my mother will find a reason to pity anything.]

--

I called and told my mother (my dad gets almost everything 2ndhand) about my working life with uncharacteristic candor and a bit of reckless abandon, since I usually work hard to censor whatever I say to them. It was a time of need, and I wanted to unveil the truth because I was seeking something that I didn't think I could find elsewhere.

--

I realize now that I was suffering from the very same feeling of helplessness that I felt as a child when I was sick. I wanted reassurance that I was OK. Unconditional pride in me as a person. It's been 15 years since I've had to turn to my parents, and this recent episode makes me wonder what it all means.

1. working in this field will turn you into an 8-year-old
2. that's what parents are for (is it? i wouldn't know)
3. the more things change the more things stay the same

Anyway, as to be expected, I, and my job, are now objects of great concern. It's said that a) I am going to turn into the VA Tech guy and b)the job is going to give me cancer.