So, Sweet Daddio called me from work yesterday morning, said he’s scouted out a truck on the internet and would i go to the dealership (in Claxton, about 20 miles away) and scope it out, get particulars from the salesman and all that. Sure, I said, be happy to.
And so I did, it was a lovely day so #3 and I drove the 20 miles in Little Martha with the top down and the radio on, cheerful about the prospect of getting SD something with a bit more cache’ than LT, the truck I inherited from Grandad (a hamster-wheel ’95 Sonoma). We got to the dealership, the salesman and I talked, and I took the truck for a spin. Very nice, I thought, plenty of room for SD’s big self, #3 sat in the back and said he had plenty of leg room, plus, it’s a truck. And the right color to boot.
I told the salesman I had an ’03 minivan to trade in, and he asked that I get it so he could do an appraisal. No Problem. We I brought the van in, the sales manager said he needed to take it for a test drive and I said fine. While he was gone the saleman and I filled out some paperwork and chatted. When the Sales mgr returned, he looked solemn, and said the engine had blown a seal, leaked out all the oil, and he’d be happy to let his technicians look at it Monday.
*cue the Toot Bullshit Meter*
I said let me call SD, and see what he said. “He’s a mechanic” I said. The sales manager go a funny look on his face (then #3 leaned over and whispered into my ear “mom he just shit a brick.”)
So, SD comes over- a 50 mile drive for him, as he’s at work. 50 miles of jaw-clenching Celtic temper building up and I’m feeling (a little bit) sorry for the sales manager right then. He and #3 get in and under the engine, looking for the problem and there’s 2.
First, the oil filter had been loosened. Second, the oil sensor (it screws into the engine block) is broken. WHAT? um…WHAT? It’s a non-moving part, and Does Not Break. Fail, yes, but break? Not just no, but HELL no. #3 knows this and gets his “Oooo….someone’s in Deep Shit and it’s not me” look. #3 is the one who noticed it broken first.
SD looks at the sales manager and says “This is an incredible coincidence.” and the sales manager puffs up and says “Are you implying my integrity is not good? I would Never Do Such A Thing! We run and Honest Dealership here and I would Never Do This.”
SD says. “I never said that. I said it was an incredible coincidence.”
Ha…busted.
Anyway. Now it’s Sunday Morning Mother’s Day and SD and #3 are back in Claxton, fixing the problem in the dealership parking lot. There is no way in God’s Green Earth we’re going to let those technicians near our van, even if it has to be towed. He’s also checking that broken fitting for plyer groove marks.
They “let” us drive the Colorado SD wants, for the weekend, and I am glad for that because we’ve noticed some things that are problematic- leftovers from the previous owner like a pervasive cigarette odor, some intermittent and very irritating rattles, and a power surge when you set the cruise control. SD knows he wants a Colorado, maybe 2 or 3 years old, just not this particular one.
There’s a pretty red one in Savannah.
We’ve bought several cars over the course of our marriage, and this is the first time we’ve ever had anything like this happen. And this is NeSmith Chevrolet in Claxton, Georgia. It’s not a little Bubba’s Used Car and Tattoo Emporium. It’s a Big dealership, who ought not have to resort to such behaviors to get business.
Y’ know what I think? I think he saw a 40 yr old woman with a teenage kid and no wedding ring (my hands were a tad puffy that day), and thought he could put one over on me. And *that* pisses me off. SD said that’s what makes him maddest too, that I was treated disrespectfully.
Why do people, men, think they can treat me like the little woman, all helpless and aren’t they the hero for allowing me to use their shop at a fair price and how fortunate it happened when it did because, little woman that I am, I wouldn’t have known how to handle it. Phphhphht.
Anyway, that’s NeSmith Select, Claxton Georgia. I’ll not give you the sales manager’s name because I’m just nice that way.
