This Driver Gets His Fantasy Car

Editor’s Note: We’re running this column in conjunction with the 2011 Lehigh Valley Auto Show March 31-April 3 at Stabler Arena, Rauch Fieldhouse, West Pavilion, Lehigh University’s Goodman Campus. The show runs Thursday-Saturday 10 a.m. to 9 p.m. and Sunday 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. Admission is $10 for adults, $8 for seniors (55+) and $7 for children ages 6-14. Free parking. www.glvautoshow.com

Rock ‘n’ roll legend Elvis Presley was an expert on fantasies. Not only did he live one with his climb from obscurity to become one of the most recognizable persons in the world, but he was famous for fulfilling the fantasies of others, sometimes even total strangers.

Imagine you are Menni Person, who was window-shopping in 1975 for a brand new Cadillac at a Memphis, Tenn. dealership. She is struggling with one of the most important buying decisions of her life.

With entourage in tow, Presley walks in, plunks down $140,000 for 13 new Cadillacs for family members and employees. And, oh yes, he says pointing to Person, a woman he had never met, throw one in for her.

For us senior citizens, Cadillac has always been the embodiment of fantasy, class and luxury. To own one was announcing to the world that you had arrived. When I retired several years ago, I wanted to give myself a  fantasy gift that would remind me of my satisfying and successful professional career.

When I saw the TV ad for the Cadillac CTS, all gleaming and shiny in crystal red tint coat, I yelled out loud “That’s it.”

A sultry-voiced woman in the ad asked provocatively: “The real question is: When you turn your car on, does it return the favor?” Yes, I thought, this is the essence of my fantasy.

Did I immediately run down to the local Cadillac dealership and make a deal for the $43,000 CTS? Hardly. An internal debate raged for weeks. Finally, I conceded that there would be no harm in walking into the showroom, get a quote, which I would reject, and that would be that.

When I left home, I never told my wife, Marie, where I was going. After all, I was only looking. And, who knows, maybe an Elvis type might pop in while I was looking and say, “Oh, by the way, throw one in for that bald guy over there – the one salivating over that red CTS.”

Faulkner Motors salesperson Bob Blum met me at the door and told me to visualize myself behind the wheel of this beauty. I was turned on, but I played it cool. After a 20-minute test drive, I was in love.

When we returned to the showroom, Blum and I started what turned out to be more than three hours of negotiations. I told Blum what I wanted for my Chevy Malibu. He looked up the car in the Blue Book – the dealer’s bible for used-car values. He gulped hard when he saw the gap between the Blue Book quote and what I wanted for my car. I told him my demand for the trade was non-negotiable – take it or leave it. I had no intention of buying a car today.

 “Let me see what I can do,” he said dejectedly as he went to the sales manager’s office. He came back with an offer that was $2,500 less than my demand. I thanked Blum for his time and started to get up to leave. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Let’s compromise,” he suggested.  I would not budge.

Off he went to see the sales manager again. This went on for an hour.  Sales Manager Dave Mancinelli finally intervened and asked me for the rock-bottom number for my Malibu. I told him the same thing that I told Blum: Take it or leave it.

“Can’t do it,” Mancinelli said. “I can throw in maybe another $500.” Now, we were $1,000 apart. Again, I started to get up. “Give me a second,” Mancinelli said, as he started scribbling numbers on a notepad.

 “I can add another $500 but not a penny more,” he said after about five minutes of furious calculations. As I started to leave, he flipped the pen into the air. “OK, OK,” he said. “I have some top-level incentives I can use for occasions like this, so I am going to use two to get us together.”

I couldn’t believe it: I was leaving as the owner of my dream car with fantasy terms I dictated and no-interest financing for 60 months.

 I have been driving my CTS for two and a half years, and, yes, she still turns me on every time I turn her on.

 (Bruce Frassinelli lives in Schnecksville and is an adjunct instructor at Lehigh Carbon Community College.)