Car Shopping With Chicks: A Tutorial For Dudes

I have to buy a new car.

Yes, I said "have to" as in "I'm not that excited about it". Normal people probably get excited about these sorts of things. I'm not exactly thrilled because I'm doing it out of necessity and I am the most hopelessly picky person in the world. I have trouble picking out which underwear I'm going to put on in the morning, and that's a 16 hour commitment at best. So making me choose the car I'm going to drive for the next like, 5 years, is just asking for trouble. When I'm in my thirties, I may still very well have this car. God that's scary to say, but that fact just makes car-buying all the more daunting. There is a good chance this vehicle will one day be my cougar-mobile. Although admittedly, I have trouble seeing the appeal of boys under 25 now, so I'm not sure why I would when I'm 31. But just in case.

Not to worry, the '03 Middle-Age Beige Civic is doing just fine. But said Civic technically belongs to my parents, and I'm about to move to a new state where I will need a new license (one that makes me list my weight no less, which will not be a complete fabrication but probably will not go entirely undoctored, either. There's your first free lesson about women, you're welcome.), new license plates, and new registration, and you can't really do that with a title bearing your parents' name. More importantly, I'm in the sunset of my 25th year of life and should probably embark the S.S. Not Living Off The Parents Forever. Starting with buying a car of my very own.

The thing is, I know what I want. Cute. Sporty. Smallish. White. Sunroof. No beige interiors. Not that much to ask, but I just can't seem to find the right one yet. And when I try to find it, there is always one thing in my way: a man. The one trying to sell me the car.

Men don't understand how women buy cars. Men talk numbers and deals and financing and how this one is so much better in one way or another, or I'll really want that one because they "can't keep them on the lot" or is "a nice size for driving cross-country". They'll shove me in one car or the next, or tell me I just "need to drive it", or ask me if I want to sit in it or something equally unimportant, or better yet they'll ask me what I "need them to do".

Here's what I need. I need a woman to sell me a car. Preferably a young one, but any owner/operator of a set of working ovaries will do, really. Because they'll understand what I and every other member of the fairer sex really wants in a car: cuteness, in a color we love. (Example: Acura RSX. Super cute.) Everything else is secondary. Haven't you ever wondered why so many females - younger ones especially - drive Civics, Jettas, Corollas, Elantras, and Cobalts? Or if they decided to go the SUV route - CR-Vs, Pathfinders, and Escapes? It's not a coincidence. It's because they're cute.

Color is the next most important thing. (Rest your eyes on the Toyota Corolla S in Blue Streak Metallic. Wicked cute.) Case in point: my mom once chose a gold car over a silver one because it "went better with [her] coloring". On the car after that, she opted for a Special Edition/V6 (more money out of the gate, and worse gas mileage forever after) because all they had left in the EX/V4 was a most unfortunate shade called Bronze Mist. A woman will forgo power locks, cruise control, engine size, better gas mileage, optimal seating capacity, and probably even the presence of wheels on the car, but she will never buy a vehicle in a color she doesn't like.

There are a handful of guys that get this. One of my best friends, Craig, is one of the biggest dude's dudes you will ever meet. He does physical labor for a living, he doesn't use hair products, he owns two pickup trucks, and he makes me watch Motorcross with him (which I have secretly come to enjoy). On the surface it would seem that we don't have much in common, but through a decade plus of hanging out with me, he has come to understand two things about me, and maybe women in general:

1. When we ask about the aesthetics of anything, especially things that are a part of or are currently on our body, the answer is always "Yeah, looks good".
2. We have to "feel" everything. Craig explains this by saying that it is not in fact logic, but our hormones and "mysterious lady parts" that tell us what to do.

#1 isn't always helpful because I would like to know if I look ridiculous, but it is always better for the male's sake to err on the side of caution. #2, sexist-sounding as it is, is 100% true. I can't really do anything, whether it be buy a car, go on a date, decide what to eat, or pick out earrings, unless I'm feelin' it. And I say that verbatim, too: "Mmm, I don't know if I'm feelin' that right now." If I'm not feeling what I'm wearing, it sets a bad tone for the day. So you can imagine how I clam up when I'm shopping for cars and getting unsure vibes about owning them. They just don't feel like me, and therein lies the proverbial cock-block.

But most dudes don't get that, especially ones that sell cars and probably sell them to a lot of broads who they presume know nothing about cars and therefore don't know what they want. The thing is, I actually know a lot about cars compared with most females. But since cars are historically a "man thing", they think they can coerce and convince and that I, young and innocent as I appear to be, will sop up their expertise like a biscuit does gravy. They also think we care about price.

To an extent, that's true. I'm not buying a Bentley because I took a gander at my bank account, and as it turns out, there was not 100 grand in there. Unfortunate. But what car salesmen don't know is that I'm willing to spend more than I'm really willing to spend... for the car that feels like my car. The other day, a car salesman asked me how much I wanted to spend on a monthly payment, and I hadn't even thought about it. The thing is, this is a perfectly logical question. If there are balls attached somewhere to your body.

I'm not looking for a payment, I'm looking for the car I want, and I'm not going to determine 5 plus years of good vibes and happiness with my decision on something so silly as price. Take for example the BMW 328xi. Expensive; still cute. Here's the thing: for me, cars are like men and jeans. For the right car, the right man, or the right pair of jeans, I will go to the ends of the earth and spend any amount of time, money and energy on them. But when they just aren't right for me, there's no perk, deal, potential benefit, or any amount of convincing that will get me to say yes. Because when it comes to my happiness, my heart, and how my ass looks, there's just no settling.