Audio version now available.
When Sheri was pregnant with our first child, we decided we needed a safer, more sensible family-oriented car. Nothing like pregnancy to open our eyes to the death-tempting lifestyle we’d been socially conditioned to accept. You might have thought we were lion tamers or sword swallowers, not an inside sales representative and his bank-teller wife.
It must be fun to sell cars when a young couple enters the dealership with bright eyes and bushy tails, and maybe a little drool forming at the corners of their mouths to offset the sparkle of innocent naivety in their eyes. I came prepared with my internet printouts from the KBB website determined to get the best of my adversary in his clip-on tie and rubber-soled wingtips. We found a car we liked, and as we started the negotiation process, our salesman pointed to another couple sitting with one of his coworkers at a similar showroom desk. He said the couple was interested in the same car, and that it was the only one with those features in inventory. As Mike Tyson famously said, “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face.” I think I offered $500 over sticker. The ink wouldn’t come out of the pen fast enough as I hastily wrote the biggest check of my young-adult life. My bride was impressed. With the salesman. Through the years, I justified my impetuous overpayment by reminding myself that the car had clearly protected our baby from all the untamed lions in Minnesota.
