Score!

On Thursday, I visited three car dealerships and test drove more vehicles. Being the Queen of Dithering, I still couldn't make up my mind. I was leaning toward the Pontiac Vibe, but though the automatic was nice, the 1.8L engine had a lot more get-up-and-go with the manual transmission.

But the manual was a bare-bones, crank window, lock with a key model, though it was my budgeted price ($12,546) with the CARS rebate. What to do?

Thursday night, I read that the CARS money was all gone, over-subscribed actually, and the government website stated that the program, slated to run from July-Nov, would end at midnight on Friday.

I tossed and turned all night, waking up repeatedly, thinking about cars. Not a restful slumber, by any measure. I woke up yesterday with a new idea. The Hyundai Elantra Touring "Wagon" (actually a hatchback with delusions of grandeur) was a better value! Most of the features I wanted--a little pricey at $20,600--but maybe I could get them to come down on the price.

I did my research again on Edmonds.com and called the Hyundai salesman with my price offer, a little more than $8000 off the sticker. After a long silence on the phone, the salesman snapped, "That's not going to happen. Besides, we stopped taking Clunkers last night because the money is all gone!"

"Okay," I replied cheerfully, "call me if they put more money into the program." I went down to the basement to work out. During my exercise, the phone rang twice, and I ignored it. After my shower, I looked at my messages. The salesman had called back.

"I talked to my manager (Here we go with the dance, I thought), and he says that because we have a relationship (What? We have a relationship?) , he says he'll take your Clunker today only."

"At my price?" I asked.

"Well...come on in with your van and we'll work something out," he hedged.

I told him I'd try to get over there in the afternoon, but casually mentioned that I might not be able to make it. After hanging up with him, I thought about it long and hard. Then I hopped into the Focus and went to the bank, and had them make me a cashier's check for exactly the price I had decided was fair to me.

My thinking was that if I had the check in hand, I could wave it under their noses and let them smell the sale. It would also prevent me from getting into a situation where I might be tempted to pay more. If they didn't take it, I could then go to the Pontiac dealer and purchase the manual transmission Vibe for the same price easily.

I waited until 3 pm. Let 'em sweat a little. It had been raining hard and the driveway was slippery, so I put on my hiking boots (truly a dorky fashion statement with my capri pants and T-shirt, floppy sun hat and smelling of insect repellent) and hiked down to the van with all my paperwork.

"Lucy" started right up with a roar, and I began the trek to the far west end of Morristown, about 45 miles away. After about 10 miles of plastic window covering (the windows had been busted out by a vandal back in November) flapping enough to make me fear for my hearing, I pulled over and ripped it all off. I continued on, wind whipping through the van and tangling my hair, adding to my disreputable appearance.

Just past Bean Station, I called the salesman on my cell and told him I was 20 minutes away. Two miles later, just after I turned onto 25E, I started to smell something really bad. A burning-engine smell. A check of the gauges said everything was normal--maybe it was just exhaust from the truck ahead of me?

No, in another mile I decided it was definitely Lucy. I started to shake a little, worrying about making it to the dealership. Should I just go to the Pontiac dealer? It was closer, and the CARS rebate required that the vehicle arrive under its own power--it couldn't be towed in. I just kept driving, praying, worrying, shaking. At the last minute, I took the turnoff that would take me to the Hyundai dealer as originally planned.

I tried to talk myself down as I made my way through Morristown. I've driven a lot of marginal cars in my life, I had been in similar situations with a dying vehicle before, what was the worst that could happen? The car would die, some Good Samaritan would help me push it to the side of the road, I'd call a tow truck and have it taken to the junkyard, and I'd find a way home. Still, I couldn't slow down my heartbeat and I was breathing deep and slow, trying to stop my annoying trembling.

By the time I made it to A.J. Hwy, smoke was wafting out from under the hood. Other cars were honking at me and pointing and generally trying to alert me that "something is wrong with your car, ma'am!" No kidding. I was on a mission. I had a goal. I was either going to make it...or not. I started making plans of what I would grab as I exited the car, just in case I saw actual flames.

About 2 miles from the dealership, something started banging loudly under the hood. I kept going. As I made the last turn into the driveway, I heard an enormous KER-POW! and the engine died. I slapped it into neutral and coasted down to the showroom door. Made it! Their problem now! (She never ran again--my guess is that she threw a rod at the end).

Honestly, I can't make up stuff this good.

It took me about 8 cups of water from the cooler to calm down (I was shaking so badly, I dropped the first one on the floor). All the staff did a double-take at my wild, windblown hair and klutzy boots below white socks and bare calves.

Roger (the salesman I supposedly had a "relationship" with) and I sat down and went over the numbers. First, the hardball "no way." Then the pleading "we have to make a little profit, just to pay the light bill." Then the disparaging of my research--"you know that Edmonds doesn't update their data and they aren't in the car business." Then the requisite visits to the sales manager, with plenty of time for me to go get still another cup of water. I stayed cheerful and matter-of-fact. I agreed with him that we were all in business to make a profit.

Then I brought out my research sheets and asked him to go over everything with me, line by line. I showed him where he was making $995 profit, hidden in the dealer prep, and added into the retail of all the options. I mentioned the extra manufacturer-to-dealer incentives that weren't shown, but that I knew his dealership was getting. I brought out my cashier's check, the title to the van, my two years of registration and insurance records and said "this is my offer, you can make this happen if you want the sale."

He actually had the gall to say "Your car is dead, how are you going to get home?" I told him that I would call a cab and showed him that I had brought a Morristown phone book with me, just in case.

"What's this you have written down?" he asked.

"Oh, that's not for you, that's just a five-year depreciation schedule and that one there is the 5-year amortized cost of ownership, for my own information."

His eyes finally changed. "You really do your research, don't you?" I had just crossed over from manipulable-female-rube to savvy-buyer-to-be-reckoned-with. I knew he was beat. He took my papers with him on his final trip to the sales manager. He came back and shook my hand.

And here is my new ride:

On the drive home, I called son Alex and told him that Lucy had gone to a better place. She handled her final illness with class, getting me where I needed to go and not croaking until the last possible moment. She will become new sheet metal, and be turned into a new car, or a refrigerator or something. R.I.P. Lucy. Hello Blue-Baby.