The Moon and Me

My First New Car

In the spring of 1958, when I was in my last semester at college, my father offered to help me buy a new car. He said he would make the down payment and help with the monthly payments until I was gainfully employed. That was a nice surprise and welcome news to me, and we both started looking at automobile ads in the newspaper.

The very next Sunday dad showed me a full-page advertisement from one of the biggest car dealers in Washington, DC. They listed a brand new two-door, six-cylinder Ford Fairlane with manual transmission, radio and heater for $1875. “We’d better take this paper with us in case they get confused about what they advertised,” he said. He had that familiar twinkle in his eye.

When we walked into the show room an elderly salesman greeted us. He had a shock of white hair and wore a set of wire-frame glasses. He smiled, shook our hands, and asked how he could help us. Dad showed him the newspaper ad and said, “Do you really have a car like this on the lot, or is this just a come-on?”

“Oh no,” the man said, “We have everything we advertise. We’ve got a lot of ‘em, just like that one. But first, tell me what kind of car you are looking for?”

“That one,” my father said, and held up the paper again.

“Okay, sure” the man said, “But how about your trade-in. Let’s take a look at what you’re trading in.”

“We don’t have a trade-in; can you just show us the car?” Dad was very even and very persistent. He was prepared for the typical salesman’s double-talk.

But the salesman was persistent too and he was going to give us his little spiel. He pulled out a clipboard with a form on it and started quizzing me about what I wanted on the car. “A six-cylinder engine, manual transmission, radio and heater,” I said. I looked over at dad and his eyes twinkled again.

“Manual? Are you sure you don’t want an automatic transmission—they’re pretty handy in traffic. Young guy like you: how about a convertible? The V-8 engine has more power. How about upgraded trim and upholstery? We have some nice two-tone color schemes. Do you want four doors or two?”

I said it again, slowly, “Two-door, six-cylinder, manual transmission, radio and heater, $1875. I don’t care what color it is. I don’t care about the upholstery or the trim, or anything else.”

The chap finally looked crestfallen. “Boy, you folks are really hard to deal with.”

Then my father bored in on him. “Do you have a car like that on your lot or not?”

The salesman fidgeted and temporized. He kept trying to draw us into some kind of deal. The conversation went around in circles for at least half an hour. Finally, he looked wilted, and said, “I don’t think we do have that exact car on the lot; but I can give you one close to it for the same price.” He led us around to the back parking area and showed us a red and cream colored tudor sedan with some nice chrome trim and a few other extras on it (even outside mirrors were extra in those days). I took it for a test drive and was surprised how peppy it was. Then we went back into the salesroom to close the deal.

At that point my father said, “Look, you must have contacts for disposing of the used cars you take as trade-ins. What could you get for a 1950 Mercury?”

The man’s face brightened and he said, “Oh, you do have a trade-in.” With a flourish he sat down at his desk and pulled out another form. “You’re going to be surprised what your little old car is worth. Just let me show you.” Then he wrote down the sticker price of the car we had just agreed to buy; it was listed at $2575. “Now,” he said triumphantly, “I’ll give you $600 for your car as a trade-in. That brings the price down to $1975.”

“But you’re not giving me anything for the Mercury,” I said. “You already agreed to sell the new car for $1875 and now you want $100 more with the trade-in. So you’re charging me $100 to take my old car.”

After another fifteen minutes of trying to put a spin on that situation, he finally wilted again and said, “I really can’t give you more than $50 for it.”

“Sold,” my father said, “We don’t want to bother with it ourselves. Thank you for taking it off our hands.”

That concluded the best deal I ever got on a new car and a cherished experience with my dad.