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Review content:
If I could give Motor King zero stars, as well as take away any future stars, I would. What transpired yesterday morning still seems ludicrous- the kind of bizarre human interaction that would only take place on an episode of ""It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia"" or ""Rock of Love.""
I hate car shopping. I'm convinced that the only people who enjoy car shopping are the ones for whom money is no object. For me, it is the only object, so my wish list had petered down to ""something under $1400.""
The day after my dad visited this location, we headed out bright and early with our sights set on a particular car- not one I was too excited about but one that possibly meant the end to car-shopping, so I was ready to do this. After a short test drive, I found that the A/C didn't work, and only one window went down. I was so desperate for a car at this point, those seemed like surmountable obstacles, even with a Cincinnati summer staring me straight in the face. After some cunning sales banter, I managed to get Jack, the owner, to knock $100 off the price (By cunning sales banter, I mean, ""um, well, how about $1000? Maybe? $1100? Ok!""). I accepted his weak handshake (I am female, after all), and I went with my parents into the office to do the paperwork.
Things were going smoothly. I was a little put off by the arbitration agreement- maybe it's a typical thing, but I kind of wanted to know I could still sue them if necessary. Again, I was so desperate at this point, I signed away.
Then I got to the paperwork that I had to sign acknowledging that I was purchasing a car with a salvage title. This had never been mentioned to me. When I asked the first salesman (not Jack) about any problems with the car, he said he didn't know of any. I wasn't thrilled about a salvage title I knew nothing about so I paused as I was signing it. Jack had wandered back into the office and I asked what happened to result in the salvage. He muttered something about that back bumper that was banged up. I'm no car expert, but I'm fairly certain that you don't salvage a car because of a busted bumper.
As Jack strolled out of the office, my mom said, ""I wish we'd known about the salvage title."" And then all hell, as in Jack, broke loose. He started yelling- who are we to question his integrity, all a man has is his word, there were 3 more people who had already called about this car if we didn't believe him, et cetera. I'm still desperate enough that I'm signing papers. And then he told Lisa, who was helping me with the paperwork, to throw it all away. They weren't going to sell me the car. I said, ""Dude, it's okay. Let's all chill out."" And whatever hell I thought had broken loose was purgatory compared to the venom that poured from this man's mouth for the next 10-15 minutes.
I hadn't slept at all the night before and the car-shopping had been so stressful, and I was so confused at why this man was yelling at me, I started to cry. And not just a couple of tears, I was in full-out bawling mode. Throughout all of this, Jack continued to yell. My dad and mom made repeated requests for him to calm down but he was on a roll about how I'd accused him of being a liar and a cheat (I had said nothing but ""I didn't know this was a salvage"" but I must have been the most fun to yell at). Finally, my desperation was out the door and I told Lisa, for whom I feel so much sympathy that I might arrange for her to be safely transported to a new job far away from Jack, to shred the paperwork. We gathered up our cash and started to leave. Jack continued to yell, and I continued to say ""why is this happening?""
After some final classy moves, including giving my dad back his ""Santa-for-hire"" business card and demanding that I not follow through on my promise to pray for him, he kept screaming at us as we drove away. I'm not sure if the other half-dozen customers who witnessed the debacle still bought cars, but if they did, I hope they brought their earplugs.
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