Need some advice on possible purchase
08-07-2010, 06:52 AM
#21
I'm posting this purely for humorous reasons. This is my most recent experience while hunting for that perfect 350z:
Once again, I have just returned from test driving another Z! This time, however, it wasn't at a dealership with an overpriced car. This particular 350z was available at a small dusty car lot in big Sacramento. Upon arriving I was greeted by a gentleman in his mid 50s, neatly dressed, with a pleasant demeanor added to him. He seemed like a nice enough guy. I give the car a quick once-over before making my way toward the driver side door as the salesman recites various facts about the car and its origin, all of which slowly fade away like a volume dial on a radio being carefully lowered...
I could plainly see it had been well cared for. The paint was sparkly and even toned. The sunset orange so clear and bright on this hot and cloudless summer day. The leather, still shiny and taught and smelled of savory leathery things, reminiscent of the sweet aroma that pours into a person as they walk into a Wilsons Leather shop. Not one tear, not a crease, not a single indentation of a former owner to be found. I entered the leather bound cabin, so rich and so intoxicating. It felt sexy, it looked sexy, it even smelled sexy. Everything about this machine was perfect and I knew I wanted it. I will have it. I will have it. It was a 2004 350z 6-speed Touring model with 43k miles in *immaculate condition* priced @ 15.9. I haven't even begun to haggle. What a find...what a find. What a lucky dog. The test drive went well. Everything to be expected. The steering wheel was warm and the grip was firm. I pulled out of the lot, talking head beside me bobbing to the left and to the right. This felt good. This felt right. This was me. The clutch was firm and the shifting smooth. I punch it and we're thrust back, the steering wheel leaving my hand briefly, for only a fraction of a second. You couldn't see my hand detach from the wheel, but I could feel it. My heart skips a beat as does my breath. I hastily look ahead and beside me - we aren't airborne. I strengthen my grip with a renewed sense of zeal. Downshifting as we approach the second right, I'm overwhelmed with relief. This one has got power. "It's got some kick to it", the bobbing head confirms as we come to a stop. I anxiously await as the cars move from one end of the street to the other, presumably on their way to some trivial place to complete some trivial task. Maybe they're on their way home. I wonder if they know I'm on a test drive. They look at me, they look at the car. It's a recognizable begrudging stare. I know it all too well. I've made it before. I turn and give it the liquid fire once more because it's what it wants. We're propelled forward, second gear and wheels chirp. The A/C is off and the windows rolled down. "I want to feel all its power", I say as I nearly floor it. This feeling of rapid acceleration and wind coursing through my hair is thrilling. This scene looks good from all angles.... The bobbing head beside me with eyes wide open and jaw left hanging, legs flexed and stretched straight, feet glued to the floor: "go easy" he says, while giving me a second and third look.
I'm not crazy - I'm just happy.
And then we're done. I'm inside the office now filling out a credit application. I hadn't planned on going this far yet. I didn't even bring someone to drive the other car home. Those salesmen guys I saw on my way in are outside again smoking another cigarette. Cigarettes...Ball & Chain is what those things are. I see old, fat and shapeless. The imbodyment of ugly. A tempting thought comes to mind. I'd normally like one right about now, too. It's been a while...over half a year as a matter of fact. I deserve one! Sigh. Though, I had better not. I'm running a mile in nearly 7:30 and lost almost 25 pounds, not to mention my clothes don't stink anymore. I'm doing real good. Now only a passing thought...
I can't believe it. My Experian report and scores are completely different from what their finance manager is seeing. I walk in and proudly announce a credit score of nearly 700. He pulls me aside and shows me a piece of paper with a number circled in red. The number is 519. The agency that he used to query my credit is the same that I pay to monitor mine. How is this possible? He told me that the number shown to consumers is often much different than what is shown to lenders. This is my lender score. There's no way I can run this through the banks and get a loan, he says. I can give you an in-house financing deal, though, yes?
Okay. I've read about this kind of crap online, and I'm not liking it, but I'm curious what he's got to offer. I ask to see some numbers. He whisks me away into his glass walled office.
Here's what we come up with, and note that nearly every number presented is lower than average because apparently he likes me and wants to do me a favor. When he said that I immediately thought about the young girl with gold hair and nice skin at the Chevron on Exposition Blvd selling spray on wax. She said they're normally $30.00 each, but she wanted to do me a solid and sell me 2 cans for only $40.00. I'm a likeable guy.
The car is $15,995.00. Awesome.
Fee: $3000.00 bank to dealer fee. This part is very strange, but for each 5k, some bank charges them 1k whenever they use in-house financing. So, naturally, this fee is 3k.
Car: $18,995.00
Tax: $1,671.25
Down payment: $5000.00
APR: 19.500
Term: 66 months
Payment: $400.71
Total price: $21,137.50
Amount financed $16.137.50
Finance charge: $10,309.36
Total sales price: $31,446.86
He smiles cheerfully, as does the pleasant salesman. I'm smiling, too! Red in the face with pure joy. As a matter of fact I become so overjoyed that I'm having a bit of trouble summarizing my thoughts to convey a simple and clear message, so I do simply this: I make a coo-coo gesture with my right hand and ask "Are you're crazy?" I asked them not to follow me out.
By the time I get home I have a few messages on the machine. A different salesman would like to change a few numbers and "sweetin' the deal" for me. He heard what had happened and felt I could be helped, and if it wasn't an inconvenience I should promptly return his phone call.
Car shopping is fun. I'm serious. I'm truly enjoying this for all the wrong reasons.
Once again, I have just returned from test driving another Z! This time, however, it wasn't at a dealership with an overpriced car. This particular 350z was available at a small dusty car lot in big Sacramento. Upon arriving I was greeted by a gentleman in his mid 50s, neatly dressed, with a pleasant demeanor added to him. He seemed like a nice enough guy. I give the car a quick once-over before making my way toward the driver side door as the salesman recites various facts about the car and its origin, all of which slowly fade away like a volume dial on a radio being carefully lowered...
I could plainly see it had been well cared for. The paint was sparkly and even toned. The sunset orange so clear and bright on this hot and cloudless summer day. The leather, still shiny and taught and smelled of savory leathery things, reminiscent of the sweet aroma that pours into a person as they walk into a Wilsons Leather shop. Not one tear, not a crease, not a single indentation of a former owner to be found. I entered the leather bound cabin, so rich and so intoxicating. It felt sexy, it looked sexy, it even smelled sexy. Everything about this machine was perfect and I knew I wanted it. I will have it. I will have it. It was a 2004 350z 6-speed Touring model with 43k miles in *immaculate condition* priced @ 15.9. I haven't even begun to haggle. What a find...what a find. What a lucky dog. The test drive went well. Everything to be expected. The steering wheel was warm and the grip was firm. I pulled out of the lot, talking head beside me bobbing to the left and to the right. This felt good. This felt right. This was me. The clutch was firm and the shifting smooth. I punch it and we're thrust back, the steering wheel leaving my hand briefly, for only a fraction of a second. You couldn't see my hand detach from the wheel, but I could feel it. My heart skips a beat as does my breath. I hastily look ahead and beside me - we aren't airborne. I strengthen my grip with a renewed sense of zeal. Downshifting as we approach the second right, I'm overwhelmed with relief. This one has got power. "It's got some kick to it", the bobbing head confirms as we come to a stop. I anxiously await as the cars move from one end of the street to the other, presumably on their way to some trivial place to complete some trivial task. Maybe they're on their way home. I wonder if they know I'm on a test drive. They look at me, they look at the car. It's a recognizable begrudging stare. I know it all too well. I've made it before. I turn and give it the liquid fire once more because it's what it wants. We're propelled forward, second gear and wheels chirp. The A/C is off and the windows rolled down. "I want to feel all its power", I say as I nearly floor it. This feeling of rapid acceleration and wind coursing through my hair is thrilling. This scene looks good from all angles.... The bobbing head beside me with eyes wide open and jaw left hanging, legs flexed and stretched straight, feet glued to the floor: "go easy" he says, while giving me a second and third look.
I'm not crazy - I'm just happy.
And then we're done. I'm inside the office now filling out a credit application. I hadn't planned on going this far yet. I didn't even bring someone to drive the other car home. Those salesmen guys I saw on my way in are outside again smoking another cigarette. Cigarettes...Ball & Chain is what those things are. I see old, fat and shapeless. The imbodyment of ugly. A tempting thought comes to mind. I'd normally like one right about now, too. It's been a while...over half a year as a matter of fact. I deserve one! Sigh. Though, I had better not. I'm running a mile in nearly 7:30 and lost almost 25 pounds, not to mention my clothes don't stink anymore. I'm doing real good. Now only a passing thought...
I can't believe it. My Experian report and scores are completely different from what their finance manager is seeing. I walk in and proudly announce a credit score of nearly 700. He pulls me aside and shows me a piece of paper with a number circled in red. The number is 519. The agency that he used to query my credit is the same that I pay to monitor mine. How is this possible? He told me that the number shown to consumers is often much different than what is shown to lenders. This is my lender score. There's no way I can run this through the banks and get a loan, he says. I can give you an in-house financing deal, though, yes?
Okay. I've read about this kind of crap online, and I'm not liking it, but I'm curious what he's got to offer. I ask to see some numbers. He whisks me away into his glass walled office.
Here's what we come up with, and note that nearly every number presented is lower than average because apparently he likes me and wants to do me a favor. When he said that I immediately thought about the young girl with gold hair and nice skin at the Chevron on Exposition Blvd selling spray on wax. She said they're normally $30.00 each, but she wanted to do me a solid and sell me 2 cans for only $40.00. I'm a likeable guy.
The car is $15,995.00. Awesome.
Fee: $3000.00 bank to dealer fee. This part is very strange, but for each 5k, some bank charges them 1k whenever they use in-house financing. So, naturally, this fee is 3k.
Car: $18,995.00
Tax: $1,671.25
Down payment: $5000.00
APR: 19.500
Term: 66 months
Payment: $400.71
Total price: $21,137.50
Amount financed $16.137.50
Finance charge: $10,309.36
Total sales price: $31,446.86
He smiles cheerfully, as does the pleasant salesman. I'm smiling, too! Red in the face with pure joy. As a matter of fact I become so overjoyed that I'm having a bit of trouble summarizing my thoughts to convey a simple and clear message, so I do simply this: I make a coo-coo gesture with my right hand and ask "Are you're crazy?" I asked them not to follow me out.
By the time I get home I have a few messages on the machine. A different salesman would like to change a few numbers and "sweetin' the deal" for me. He heard what had happened and felt I could be helped, and if it wasn't an inconvenience I should promptly return his phone call.
Car shopping is fun. I'm serious. I'm truly enjoying this for all the wrong reasons.
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