It is amazing how sometimes in an effort to save money, we spend more.
For example, in preparing for my return to school this fall, I have started looking for ways to save a little coin here and there. About two months ago, I decided that it would be a good idea to imitate Penelope Cruz and dye my hair darker. But a thrifty Grad Student would never pay for a visit to the salon for a dye job! So I did it myself, from a box. Apparently, “Dark Golden Brown” actually means RED. So instead of paying for one box of dye, I have now purchased 5 in an effort to fix my mop, and it is still RED. So going to the salon would have probably been cheaper than 5 boxes, and I wouldn’t look like little orphan Annie.
I learned that lesson several times this weekend. The car saga continues…
When I picked up my recently purchased Honda on Friday night, I realized some very important things about myself:
1. I should never be allowed to purchase a used car alone
2. I lose all sensory perception when I am looking at a car for purchase.
I might as well have been wearing a gas mask, the little eye cover they give you on long plane flights, and bright orange hunting ear plugs. Apparently, my senses of sight, smell and hearing all disappeared when I was test driving this Honda.
It is amazing what one learns when spending more than 10 minutes with a car.
So, it was DEFINITELY a smoker car. Not only did it smell like one—I found a used cigarette in the back seat. When I threw the car into reverse and backed out the driveway, it sounded like a Bollywood film. The brakes were making such a high pitched squealing noise that I could barely hear the radio. How did I not notice this in the test drive?!?!
I’m not sure whether the paint job could be called a “paint job” or “vandalism.” It looks like a 13-year-old went to town with a silver spray-paint can. The interior detail job I had done was worth every penny, and fortunately the man at the car wash was able to remove the French fries that had been wedged between the seats. Last but not least, the 6-CD Changer is actually a NO-CD Changer. Broken.
So I headed straight for the mechanic to see how terrible this car purchase was. The dealer told me that he had just put on brand new brakes and rotors and that it would take them a few days to loosen up. LIE. Two-thousand dollars later, after replacing all four brakes, rotors and the rear struts, installing a jack for my ipod, removing French fries and replacing the headliner with the blood splatter on it, I called it a day.
My favorite part of the story, however, is the response of the car salesman when I pointed out that he had blatantly lied to me about the brakes. He replied, “I was very nice to you ma’am." Nice but dishonest? Not my favorite.
At least I can find some comfort knowing that I got an awesome price when I finally sold my other car. OH WAIT. I could have chopped out the leather in the back seats, made purses out of them, and sold them for more money than I got for the car…
