Trade In Kind

The other day I bought a new car. The experience reminded me of two previous blogs I wrote, the “My Confession” blog and the “I am the only person to ever…” blog.

I traded my Malibu for a new Mercedes. I believe that I am the only person to have traded a leaking, old, high-mileage, Chevy Malibu for a new Mercedes. When I pulled into the dealer with an empty tank of gas, squeaking brakes and a few, minor, dents, the Mercedes sales guy started to hyperventilate. Shortly thereafter, he got down on his hands and knees and looked under the car. He was worried that my car was going to drip on his floor. He asked me if I could park on the street as there was “no room”. At the inn I’m sure.

During the negotiation he tried very hard to convince me to “donate it” rather than trade it in. I relished the experience.

During the test drive, the saleswoman said “you really love your Malibu don’t you”. More than loving that piece of shit, I basked in the glory of the comments my friends and colleagues made to me. “That’s your ride?” they would say.

But with a new job and a one+ hour commute on a six-lane freeway of stop-and-go traffic, I didn’t want to break down. The last straw was when my radiator fluid kept disappearing. Invisible anti-freeze-elves-in-the-night I’m sure. So I traded.

During the final round of negotiation, I exhorted to the sales manager “but it will look great on your showroom floor”. Next to the $250,000 Gullwing. He accepted my trading demand and I left shortly thereafter with a new car.