Chapter 14

“Remember, your first car doesn’t have to be the first you look at, always be ready to walk away, they need you more than you need them, there are hundreds of thousands of cars available every single day,” Dad said as we pulled into the dealership.

We walked onto the lot, to look at the car I had found online. A salesman greeted us, honing in on Aunt Joan and Dad.

“Hi Joan, ready to trade that little death trap in?”

“Hi Frank, this is my little brother Pete.”

“Hi Pete,” he said, reaching out to shake his hand.

“We are looking for a car for my son, Sam. He turns 16 on Monday,” Dad said, while shaking his hand.

He reached out to shake mine, and I tried to give him a good firm shake, “Hi Sam, I’ve got a new Ferrari in the back lot, or if you like bikes I’ve got a Harley street bike that just came in on a trade,” he said, then held up a hand to cover part of his mouth, and said in a loud whisper, “Negotiating with parents 101, start off with the scary option, so that they are willing to consider what you really want,” then winked with a big grin. Dad actually snorted in response.

I just smiled, “Actually I’d like to test drive this one,” I told him, holding up my phone with a picture of the car.

“Sure, let me get a photocopy of your learners permit, and grab the dealer’s plates.”

He was back in a moment, when he handed the key fob and my permit back to me, “I’m over 25, and can ride front seat as adult copilot, but he is only allowed immediate family as passengers,” Frank said.

“Do I count as immediate family?” Aunt Joan asked.

“Sorry Joan, immediate family are close relatives living in the same house, unless they moved in with you?”

“No, fortunately they have their own place. I’ll wait inside, who knows I might find the perfect replacement for my Miata someday.”

Frank took the front passenger seat, “Sorry, rules say I have to ride shotgun in test drives, but there’s plenty of room in the back,” he told my Dad.

“I don’t mind, this is the car he likes, but I don’t understand it.”

I was already in the front seat, adjusting it, then the mirrors, before finally pressing the big red start button.

“It’s a big Prius, plenty of room for friends, luggage, sports stuff, plus it gets 80mpg,” I told him.

“The government estimate is always higher than actual,” Dad reminded me.

“Not by much, he can probably average about 75 mpg,” Frank added, “or if you learn to baby it, even exceed 80. There’s videos online of guys who get well over a hundred and fifty using some shifting techniques, switching to the electric only mode as much as possible, and use the regeneration instead of braking.”

“Does everyone have their seatbelts on?” I asked.

I got the affirmative, and rolled the vehicle out of the parking lot, to the dealership exit, “Would you like to go somewhere in particular?” Frank asked.

“Is there a street nearby with a center turning lane, I need to practice that for my driving test on Monday.”

He gave me directions, and I carefully turned the vehicle into the street. I found the street with the center turning lane, and made a few left turns onto side streets, coming back and around. “Thanks, that feels very comfortable, how do I get to the freeway from here?”

Frank punched a couple buttons on the screen, and set a route out of town, and back to the dealership on the gps, “Go ahead and follow the directions, we update the gps map software as soon as it comes in as a trade, so it’s ready for a trip anywhere.”

I hit the heater on full blast to test it, and rolled down the windows to compensate. The power sunroof was a nice feature, and Frank adjusted it so it acted as an air scoop bringing fresh air in. I finally turned the AC on full blast, and shut the windows to the relief of my Dad in the back, boiled and windblown.

The vehicle had no trouble rapidly reaching highway speeds, and then I reached the marked exit, followed the underpass and got back on, heading back into town. I was all smiles as I parked it back where Frank directed at the front of the building, “After all, you don’t want to have to walk across the lot again, just to drive it home,” Frank explained.

Dad saw my grin, and grinned back, “I just don’t understand why you don’t want a sports car, aren’t teenagers supposed to want sports cars?”

“I like the color, the dark midnight blue looks good, it’s got a great safety rating, has triple the gas mileage of a sports car, and with the electric motor is just as fast from a stop to highway speeds. It’s comfortable, will please both the ladies and their parents, and it’s fully tricked out with leather, nav, and a sunroof. Best of all, I’ll only probably need to fill the gas tank four times a year, and even then it’s just an 8 gallon tank. When was the last time you filled up a car for under fifty bucks?”

Dad looked at his big truck, and winced in sympathy. Fifty was probably enough for a quarter tank.

“I’m just surprised you like it so much.”

I turned at a honking horn to see Aunt Joan and another lady pull up in a bright red sports car, “Aunt Joan just took a ride in what you think I should want, so compare that to what you think I need, and what I’m asking for.”

He gave me a solid look, “Surprised doesn’t mean I’m not happy. I did notice you managed not to praise how big the back seat was.”

I just gave him a big smile back, I don’t think I blushed much.

Frank took us into his office, and had one of the younger staff fetch us drinks. Dad started the negotiations, “I can write a check today for the listed purchase price, minus two thousand.”

“I can ask, but I don’t think the sales manager would go for that. I might be able to get you the car, and an extended warranty, 7 years hundred thousand miles, for the listing price, but there’s not that much room to budge.”