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Leasing a Car for Cheap

I’ve never really been a car person.  But like many others, I’ve become dependent on them.  So long as it has four wheels and goes and nothing falls off while I am either parked or driving, then I consider it a success. 

Recently, however, and much to my mortification, I had to go out and get another one after having had the other one for four years. 

It started when another driver and I tried to occupy the same space at the same time, which, according to a law of physics, is always bound to fail.  Except I had the green at the intersection, and she did not, although she drove right through it anyway. 

Knowing there was a problem, I slammed on the breaks while praying that she would get out of the way.  When all was said and done, I’d put a dent in her passenger door and my tires looked knock-kneed and my hood looked like watermelons were underneath.  In short, it wasn’t pretty. 

She got out of her car, pointed a nail with chipped polish at me and said, “It’s your fault.”

“It’s not my fault.  I had the green light.

“No, it’s your fault.”

Driver and Humanitarian of the Year, this wasn’t.  Then the witnesses came forth.  ‘Maybe it was my fault,’ I thought as the first one came towards me not looking pleased.  But when she spoke, it was like drops of clean radiator fluid coming forth. 

“It’s your fault,” she said looking at the Driver and Humanitarian of the Year.  The other three witnesses said the same thing, bless their hearts. 

I drove what was left of my car to the mechanic, who declared it totaled.  But we were both sort of happy because it had recently started costing me money with repairs that were now bent into an accordion-like shape.   

Sociologists have long known that when most car dealers see a woman in their dealership, the synapses in their brains start doing the rumba. 

This happened when I walked into Howdy Joe’s Car Dealership and found a car that met my minimum requirements of being easy on the gas, having power steering and a heater and AC system and with nothing hanging down. 

After I drove it around the block with the salesman “oohing” and “aahing,” it was time for the negotiations phase where other synapses and neurons in their brains do the foxtrot in anticipation of the bounty they hope will come forth. 

“For $2,000.00 you can take it off the lot with $350.00 per month in lease payments,” says sales rep number two. 

My mouth falls open, and I give him a blank stare.

“How much can you afford?” he asks

“Maybe a thousand.”

“Let me check with my bank.” 

He returns moments later saying that the bank approves.

“Let me check with my beloved mechanic,” I say, as I call him and get his assistant, a young recently married buck on the phone who tells me not to take it because he will find something better.

I share this with the salesperson, and he says that he would have to check with his bank again.  When he returns, he says that they will let me take it out for $800.00 and $275.00 a month.”

“Let me call my mechanic again,” I say, but he has found something better.

“He’s going to get me the same car with a $700.00 drive off fee and a $220.00 monthly payment,” I say. 

“Let me talk to my bank,” says salesman number two again.

He returns huffing and puffing and lets me take the car off the lot for $600.00 with a $250.00 monthly payment including gap insurance.  Not too shabby. 

I thank them and the mechanic and buy a Mediterranean lunch for his whole shop. 

In order to pull this off, the following are needed:  A mechanic and his assistant, a working cell phone, a car dealer with a bank on the premises and a restaurant that delivers and credit card to load it all on.  Thank you, amen and over and out.

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