When buying a new car, I am usually concerned about the location of the dealer in order to service the warranty. We looked at a particular brand, drove them and were about to buy, when the salesman said that the franchise was being transferred next door in favor of a more upscale brand opportunity. That delayed our purchase, thankfully.
The dealer next door failed to qualify for the franchise and now the closest dealer is forty miles away. Consequently, we are looking elsewhere. This means giving up the desire for a car that we already picked.
Due to the need and desire to have their cars get better mileage but not sacrifice power, car designers are lowering their cars' stance as well as increasing the rake of the windshields to lower the wind resistance. Unfortunately, that has played havoc with ergonomics and safety in a few models. My wife sat in one recently, which drove nicely, but the visor completely obscured the windshield and therefore visibility when flipped down. That car was quickly rejected.
The models that remain, that are supported by local dealers, have definitely helped to pare down the possible choices for a replacement vehicle. Another unfortunate reality is that while we would service the vehicle locally, the local dealers refuse to put together a reasonable purchase deal. We are currently working on that deal with a dealer fifty miles away.
They dismiss our nonacceptance of their pricing because they claim to be a low-volume dealer. I pointed out that high-volume dealers didn't just happen; they have to sell a lot of cars for that moniker. It also means that they have to be ready to accept less per car, to move them along.
Buying a car and dealing with most salesmen is right up there with dealing with banks...
"Age doesn't always bring wisdom. Sometimes age comes alone."
Not another blonde joke
A man got on the bus with both of his front
trouser pockets full of golf balls and sat down next to a beautiful (you
guessed it) blonde.
The puzzled blonde kept looking at him and his bulging pockets.
Finally, after many glances from her, he said, "It's golf balls."
The blonde continued to look at him for a very long time, thinking deeply about what he had said.
After several minutes, not being able to contain her curiosity any longer, she asked,
"Does it hurt as much as tennis elbow ?"
New Rule: Stop giving me that pop-up ad for Classmates.com! There's a reason you don't talk to people for 25 years. Because you don't particularly like them! Besides, I already know what the captain of the football team is doing these days: mowing my lawn.
New Rule: If you need to shave and you still collect baseball cards, you're gay. If you're a kid, the cards are keepsakes of your idols. If you're a grown man, they're pictures of men.
New Rule: Ladies, leave your eyebrows alone. Here's how much men care about your eyebrows: do you have two of them? Okay, we're done.
New Rule: There's no such thing as flavored water. There's a whole aisle of this crap at the supermarket, water, but without that watery taste. Sorry, but flavored water is called a soft drink. You want flavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it melt. That's your flavored water.
New Rule: Stop messing with old people. Target is introducing a redesigned pill bottle that's square, with a bigger label. And the top is now the bottom. And by the time grandpa figures out how to open it, his ass will be in the morgue. Congratulations, Target, you just solved the Social Security crisis.
New Rule: The more complicated the Starbucks order, the bigger the asshole. If you walk into a Starbucks and order a "decaf grande half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla, double-shot, gingerbread cappuccino, extra dry, light ice, with one Sweet-n'-Low and one NutraSweet," ooh, you're a huge asshole.
New Rule: I'm not the cashier! By the time I look up from sliding my card, entering my PIN number, pressing "Enter," verifying the amount, deciding, no, I don't want cash back, and pressing "Enter" again, the kid who is supposed to be ringing me up is standing there eating my Almond Joy. Paper? plastic? I don't have time for that. I've just been called to do a cleanup on Aisle Nine!
New Rule: Just because your tattoo has Chinese characters in it doesn't make you spiritual. It's right above the crack of your ass. And it translates to "beef with broccoli." The last time you did anything spiritual, you were praying to God you weren't pregnant. You're not spiritual. You're just high.
