We’ve wanted a new car for some time now. Our Malibu was ever faithful and never really needed major repairs, but it was getting to the point where its idiosyncrasies were outnumbering its good points.
The air conditioning would shut off for no discernible reason, requiring the driver to turn the fan off and then back on to get it to start up again;
The turn signals would work sometimes, but other times they wouldn’t work unless the driver wiggled the hazard light button.
The Passkey system was jacked up, so now and then when the driver tried to start it but didn’t hold the key in the start position long enough it would lock out, requiring a 10 minute wait before attempting to start it again.
Yeah, that last one was the most fun.
It was all very exciting, because every problem was intermittent so you never knew when you were going to have to deal with it. Greg, however, is not a very spontaneous type of person, and I think it was getting old.
So last night we went car shopping.
I hate dealing with salespeople. In fact, one time when we were shopping for a truck, Greg told me I was ‘borderline abrasive’ with the dealer. Like I cared. If I was gonna plunk down the kind of change they wanted, I could afford to be abrasive.
At one point the salesman pleaded with Greg to help him out because I was being so hard-nosed in negotiations. Greg said no, sorry, that I did his negotiating for him.
A little later I pointed at the sales contract and flatly refused to pay the administrative fees. I said, “Yeah, we don’t pay administrative fees. That needs to come off there.”
And, of course, they did.
Anyway, after much wheeling and dealing and negotiating, we came home with this:
The Malibu got around 22-23 MPG on average; the truck gets about 13-14.
This puppy got 46 MPG on the way home.
We’re feeling pretty damn good about that.