Ever since the first automobile was sold more than a century ago, the ritual has probably not changed all that much. The buyer circles the lot or showroom, inspecting cars and awaiting the imminent approach of a salesperson. While you ponder the car, the salesperson pounces. He or she launches into an exhaustive sales pitch extolling the virtues of the gleaming dream machine.
But the car mesmerizes, its siren call drowning out the salesman’s spiel.
You open the door and slide in. You inhale the wondrous aroma of new car. Now comes the pivotal moment: the test drive.
You really want to take the car for something more than a sedate spin around the block. You want to see what it can do. More to the point, you don’t want any salesman, no matter how friendly (and they are friendly!) riding shotgun.
Or, as Mark Oles recently put it: “I don’t want someone hovering over my shoulder talking while I’m not listening.”
Mark recently found himself strapped into the driver’s seat of several BMWs and Subarus, spending a Saturday afternoon maneuvering the models through a pylon-dotted obstacle course in the parking lot of U.S. Cellular Field. Not a single salesperson disturbed the experience.
A few luxury car dealers have done this for years. But it seems to be catching–more dealers are keeping the salesman in the showroom and putting potential buyers behind the wheel for some no-pressure drive time. Some even allow an overnight test drive.
On behalf of all those car customers driven to distraction by the non-stop sales pitch from the passenger seat, we can only say, thank you.
No offense to sales people, who obviously have a job to do, but we can find the gas pedal just fine without your help. And you can save the spiel about the rich Corinthian leather for later.
We understand that dealers have a vested interest in making sure that test-driven cars return to the lot. But testing a new car is a very personal experience. You want to absorb the car’s character. You want to tromp on the gas and see what happens. You want to take that corner a bit too fast. But if you’re like most car buyers, you’re a little shy about doing that with a salesperson in the next seat. It’s like the feeling you got as a neophyte driver, learner’s permit in hand, when your dad would be on high alert in the passenger seat, scrutinizing every move you made.
Test driving a car is freighted with meaning, a voyage not to be undertaken lightly, a moment worthy of Joseph Campbell-esque treatment.
Being trusted with the keys solo–hey, they’re holding the current car as hostage–simply says: We believe this is your new car. We trust you’ll come to the same decision. So just toss us the keys. We’ll talk later. On the test drive, the best place for a salesman is in the rearview mirror.
