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Car shopping as a measure of intelligence

I bought a car this past weekend. Actually, my wife and I bought a car this past weekend. But since I rarely drive (except slow on the driveway every Saturday), it is mostly a purchase for her.

The process of buying a car is equivalent to having root canal work done on the back of a camel while riding through It’s A Small World at Disney. We should probably just load every terrorist from Guantanamo Bay onto a boat and send them to the nearest car dealership. If every day is the endless process of car buying, you’ll really start to view us as the Great Satan (or Saturn, take your pick). Regardless, the process isn’t enjoyable in the least.

Our experience was better than most, I suppose. The dealership was one of those “no negotiation” setups, so we had already price checked it before even going to look at it. Even after using the mighty Internet to check prices, I’m still certain we got ripped off. I think everyone feels this way when buying a car. No matter how friendly the salesperson, you’re fairly certain they’re up to something. Oddly, I don’t feel this same way when purchasing celery from my local grocer, and that guy is a hell of a lot creepier.

One explanation might be that, in general, we know very little about the way cars are priced or what any of their features mean. I think my new car has something on it called ODO Trip, but I have little clue what that button does. Worse yet, I’m afraid to push it. If it does mess something up I have to head all the way back to the dealership so they can rub in the fact that I am completely clueless about the thing I just paid them my non-existent child’s future college tuition for.

Basically, I bought a car. So yeah, I’m an idiot.