Be It Ever So Humble... My New Ride
For the last several years, I’ve been getting burned out on nighttime driving—and by “burned out,” I mean literally blinded. I’m tired of piloting a low-profile sedan through a world dominated by SUVs and trucks armed with retina-searing headlights. Somewhere between my squinting eyes and my muttered commentary about modern lighting standards, I decided this was the week to bite the bullet.It was time to look for something taller than my trusty 2012 Malibu.
My needs were simple—almost boring, really. I wanted something reliable, with just enough elevation to save my eyesight but low enough that my mother-in-law could get in without a running start. A small-to-medium SUV would do nicely. Heated seats were non-negotiable. And I wasn’t about to drop forty grand just to impress friends or neighbors. I’ve never owned a new car and don’t plan to start now. Anything that loses 20% of its value the moment you drive it off the lot strikes me as the automotive definition of insanity.
So off I went car shopping.
Actually, I went to my desk—because that’s how it’s done now.
Virtual car shopping is today’s reality, and you’d better have fast fingers. Anything remotely worthwhile gets snapped up in a heartbeat. Facebook Marketplace? A swamp of dealers posing as private sellers, scammers, and listings that disappear faster than free donuts in a break room. Actual private sellers? Practically extinct. It feels like dealers are using AI—or dark magic—to vacuum up every decent car before real humans even see them.
I miss the old way: walking up to a car with a “For Sale” sign, chatting with the owner, reading the body language, and slowly triangulating the lowest price they’d actually accept. That art form appears to be endangered or extinct.
The online results were bleak. Finding a decent used SUV at a reasonable price felt like unicorn hunting. Plenty of SUV’s with high mileage and high prices. Very little in the $15–17K range I was targeting.
Here’s where modern tech actually helped. I leaned on ChatGPT to research common maintenance issues by model and year (highly recommended), identify which dealers had decent reputations, and even sharpen my negotiation strategy. With my digital wingman, I didn’t feel quite so much like a lamb headed for slaughter. Information really is power.
Yesterday, I put on my business face, grabbed my USAF Veteran ball cap, and headed into the used-car jungle with a short list of candidates. First stop: a good-looking Kia Sportage at a decent price. I arrived just in time to have some young sales guy tell me that someone else drove it off for a test drive—ten minutes ahead of me. I knew immediately that ship had sailed.
Two more dealerships. Two more whiffs.
The sun was dropping. My mood followed it down. I was ready to call it quits when a last-minute idea popped into my head: Why not just try the Kia dealership and see what happens?
With the last bit of daylight fading, I pulled into the lot, stepped out into a wind that instantly transported me back to Chicago style winters, and was greeted by a salesman about my age. I didn’t waste time. Thirty seconds, tops. Here’s what I need. Here’s what I won’t do. He didn’t look optimistic—but pointed to a Sportage way in the back. Almost dark. Just over 100K miles. Decent shape.
Then he said the magic words.
“We just took in a Chevy Equinox on trade this afternoon. Long-time customer. Full maintenance records. That’s the one you need to see.”
Hmm. Why not?
He wasn’t kidding. It was clean. Solid. We took it for a drive—at night, of course—and it handled beautifully. Back inside, we hadn’t even talked price yet when his manager walked in, noticed my ball cap, and launched into stories about his two sons—one an Air Force colonel, the other a Marine.
Suddenly, it wasn’t a negotiation. It was three old guys swapping war stories.
That conversation earned me a nice discount before we even discussed numbers—comfortably within Kelley Blue Book. I asked them to throw in new brakes and a new battery for good measure, and they agreed. We sealed the deal yesterday morning and I'll pick it up next week.
In the end, there was nothing digital about it. No algorithms. No online wizardry. Just a few old guys doing what old guys do best: telling stories, building trust, and mixing in a little business.
Sometimes it’s good to be old—and leave the online stuff to the kids.
I’d love to hear your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. If you value humor mixed with serious reflections about life on this blue marble we all share, please pass this along.
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Happy New Year — and thanks for reading.
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