Redemption, Car-Buying Style.

You've probably heard it said that God is in the details. I've found this to be true in every situation when I've actually thought about it (thus verifying my status as a CUSS--"Completely Unthinking Self-absorbed Sinner"). Well, we found it to be true in the last day or so when we--wait for it--bought a van.

Some people find you alluring, Albatross, but we know the truth.

This all started way back when Simon Fitch settled at the Landing. Wait, wrong story. :)

It probably started when we bought our first van from my grandparents. Van #1 lasted a few years and we enjoyed it a lot (especially all the room and the heated seats!), and then, while we vacationed in 2009, we discovered that it had a Really Bad Problem that jeopardized the remainder of our travels. It's not fun to be one thousand miles from home in a vehicle with a nearly-one-year-old, a beloved spouse, lots of stuff, and the thought, "What if it just all falls apart on the highway?" So we made the decision to shop for another van. On vacation.

I'll say that again. We decided to shop for another van. On vacation.

For the uninitiated, buying a car is a process, by itself, that typically is about as fun as planning a wedding. You've got the high moments--"This dress is IT!"--and you've got the low moments--"What do you MEAN the power's out at the reception site?"--and you've got the sticker-shock moments--"HOW MUCH did you say this dinner costs per head?" It's super fun to test-drive vehicles. They smell new, even if they're not; they look fantastic, gleaming in the sun; they have lots of fun gadgets and secret features to explore; and the salesman--I'll say "man" here because I've never met a car saleswoman. Have you?--is friendly and helpful and oh-so-thoughtful.

Weasel, weasel, weasel.

Then you get to the negotiating part. This is the part where buyers either 1) know what they're doing and know how to work the system, or 2) curl up in fetal positions and get slowly crooned to delirium by talented confidence men who can smell weakness and know how to play upon deeply-rooted childish desires for instant gratification, newness, and pain avoidance. And if you're on vacation and kind of desperate to have another vehicle--any vehicle--RIGHT NOW!, well, you can pretty much guess what happens.

 If I sound slightly cynical, it's because Papa and I found ourselves curled after that first "real" car-buying experience. The never-to-be forgotten moment in our Baptism By Salesmanship was when the light blue, seersucker-suit-wearing manager reached across the table and, interrupting Papa, touched his hand and told him he understood the financial pressures of the ministry because he was a believing, megachurch-attending Christian himself. Instead of following our instincts at that moment, which were screaming at us to JUMP UP and RUN AWAY IMMEDIATELY, we succumbed.We signed the papers, relieved beyond measure to be done, and tried to be happy about Van #2.

 It's embarrassing to admit all this even now. The whole theological angle tangled with a major purchase is a topic in an of itself (God forgive us for our failure to clearly separate the Kingdom of the Right from the Kingdom of the Left to Seersucker Man.) Beyond that, the entire day was physically exhausting, pride-killing, anger-inducing, and despite time's typically healing balm, after a few months, budget-stifling, too. So we jettisoned the lovely sage green albatross and traded down for our current Honda Accord and a much more manageable payment.


Then we found out this spring that God had blessed us with the need for a bigger vehicle.

Originally, we were going to brave the first few months of new-babyhood with the trusty Accord with three--count 'em, three--car seats in the back. Papa figured out that we could, in fact, fit a rear-facing car seat between two front-facing car seats in the backseat. The kids would be within breath-fogging distance of each other, but oh, well! Once we discovered this, we I figured we wouldn't go anywhere in December, January, or February with all three kids at one time except church, which is one and a half blocks from our house. (I mean, we do live in Minnesota. Who goes anywhere up here in the first two or three months of the year without massive snow tires or a snowmobile?) My real thinking was to avoid going into any debt with whatever vehicle we ended up with by paying off the Accord and then using whatever savings we had accrued plus any tax "refund," courtesy of the redistributive U.S. government, to buy new wheels. In the meantime, I did research on the best vans for families, narrowing down our vehicle possibilities to three; researched tips on buying cars; paid off more on our car; and waited.

See? It CAN be done. Not sure where any other stuff goes, like diaper bags, purses, adults...

 And now we finally get to the last day or so.

On Wednesday, we received a lovely little preprinted flyer from the same dealership that, thankfully, wanted Van #2 so desperately a few years back (due to "Cash for Clunkers" inventory wipeout and--hey!--where we live, used, decent Honda Odysseys are very difficult to find) saying they desperately wanted our Accord. And they'd give us big incentives if we traded it.

So, after a lot of Internet searches, Kelley Blue Book price checks and Consumer Reports consulting, we bravely headed out to Sioux Falls on Friday. This time, we had a plan. This time, we had a budget. And this time, we knew how the game worked. It helped that we'd bought the Accord a few years ago, fresh off our horrible experience. Then, I no longer had any qualms about "playing nice" during negotiations. I wasn't a jerk. Papa describes it as our "good cop/bad cop" routine, crowned with his ability to actually tell if a car's in good shape and worth buying and my ability to stand down over price. Frankly, our Van #2 fiasco--what Dave Ramsey aptly calls "paying the stupid tax"--made us smarter. Or at least much more conscientious.

Without hashing out the particulars over the process, I've boiled down our Priceless Car-Buying Tips to these:

1. Don't buy when you already need a vehicle. In other words, don't fall into a time pressure-cooker. We didn't plan to buy; we were open to the possibility, but we also knew we could walk with no regrets. This helped our outlook a lot, and it translated to the salesmen we encountered. It made them really work to try to win our business (see also #5). 


2. Bring the kids. Not only do their accessories (like bulky car seats) and their wiggles keep you focused on what you need, they give you an automatic deadline and great, non-guilty reasons to leave.

3. Have an actual event to attend that limits your time to look or negotiate. In our case, our church's annual Soup Supper was last night. Papa, of course, wanted to be there for the entire thing. So that, plus all our other usual necessary shopping, kept us limited on how long we could be anywhere. I guess I could also throw in that I'm eight months pregnant and I don't have a lot of patience. That blessed event that we wait for so excitedly is oh-so-evident and also excuses quick exits.

4. Do lots of research before and even research during your looking. Because we'd been browsing our possibilities for months, we had some actual prices of vehicles--model years, models, mileage--written down that we brought with us. Other vehicles we encountered yesterday we didn't have specific info on; we used helpful family members--THANK YOU!--to look up info and prices for us. I brought along The Consumer Reports Car Buying Guide, which was helpful for looking up which used car years had the best evaluations. We looked at Carfaxes. We asked questions.

Thanks to my in-laws for this priceless book!

5. Use cell phones. If we had smartphones, we'd use them to research, too. Here, though, I'm talking calling back Bill or Lance or Brock (why do they all seem to have the same type of names?) to tell them, "Hey, now we're driving X and they're offering Y. Do you have anything comparable?" Then we'd wait for them to scramble and tell us about potential deals that might pique our interest. Papa got so confused about who he'd be talking to, he mixed up their names. I wouldn't encourage anyone to do this intentionally, but I'm sure it also helped communicate that we were working with several different people, all of whom we were talking to.

6. Be honest. We read this one again on Thursday night, and it totally paid off. Here's what we want, here's what we can pay--that's the best we can do. Look 'em in the eye, don't apologize, smile, shake hands, exchange cheesy smalltalk, be honest. They've heard everything, so the best bet is to be real.

7. Be firm. I love this one. There's something so liberating about drawing a line in the sand--it's this, or I walk. And then do it. The last vehicle we looked at was a gem, and we wanted it. But we only wanted it if they'd meet our terms. And I was completely ready to walk if they couldn't make it happen. I almost, almost hoped they'd say "We can't do any better" just so I could say, "Well, we're disappointed, but thanks for your time." Click. Because I knew I'd have no qualms about doing it. Our last negotiations took place over the phone because we had to leave. And the guy got down to within three dollars of what we wanted to pay a month (we were actually aiming for total price). Three dollars! I'd already told him four times what we were willing to pay, and he'd dropped and dropped and dropped...and then said that was the best they could do. HA! Well, our price didn't change. And you know what? After the salesman told me he'd call back, son of a gun, his business manager--there's always a faceless guy in a room down the hall that's the Bad Cop of dealership negotiations--could actually come down three dollars.

Amazing.

In sports commentary talk, they'd call this redemption.

In Olson family talk, we call this gettin' 'er dun. :)

And the best part? Today, we'll sign papers to own a 2006 Toyota Sienna that has--wait for it--less than 13,000 miles on it. Yes, you read that correctly. Clean Carfax, complete maintenance history, beautiful, truly looks-like-new van. The only owner just sold it back to the dealer. He's 89 and lost his wife. They bought it new when he was in his mid-80s. I didn't believe any of this either until I saw the clean history and record--and, as Papa discovered during our test drive, the van manual pages tabbed with diabetes medication tabs and highlighted so the prior owner could figure out how to work the audio system.

And we'll pay four thousand dollars under the Kelley Blue Book price for a vehicle with these specs.

You can't make this stuff up.

Happy Car Buying!