the worst car-buying experience ever.

Are you in the market for a different car?

Allow me to steer you as FAR AWAY AS POSSIBLE from Motor Inn in Spirit Lake, Iowa.

It was fall 2017, and it was time for me to get a different car. I had been driving my beloved six-speed manual Ford Fusion for years, but four years of commuting from Luverne to Sioux Falls and back every day were starting to wear on my poor sedan. Plus, it was time for me to obtain something with all-wheel drive. I’d had enough near-misses on icy roads for my liking, and winter was coming.

James LOVES to hunt for cars. I told him what I wanted – an SUV crossover-thing at a reasonable price with reasonable mileage with all-wheel drive in a fun color – and he was off. Within minutes, he had two "midnight blue" Ford Escapes for me: one in Worthington and one in Spirit Lake.

This is what mine looks like, except mine is now covered in liberal stickers and bug guts.

I don’t remember the real differences between the two, but the one in Spirit Lake had remote start. Living in the tundra, I had been lusting after a remote start vehicle for as long as I knew what remote start was. Could this be my big chance? Was I really fancy enough to deserve something like that?

The Spirit Lake car was more expensive than the Worthington car, but it was the “titanium” package. That meant heated seats… and some other stuff (it obviously meant more to James than it did to me). We decided to go and look at it – no harm in looking, right?

So James called the Motor Inn and made us an appointment to take a look at this car. When we arrived, the salesman popped out and greeted James… and only James. James and I both noticed, and James pointedly said, “This is CALLA – SHE’S the one buying the car,” but to no avail. I was invisible. No matter how many questions I asked and no matter how many times James said that I was buying the car, not him, the salesman continued to direct all conversation toward James. Because women obviously can’t buy cars.

Despite this douchbaggery, I really did like the car. The price was right, and it had everything I wanted. The temptation to walk away was strong, but the temptation to buy this car and be done with it all before winter was stronger.

We asked for the Car Fax. Everything was fine. We did a test drive. We were reassured the car had belonged to a non-smoker, even though there were several pine-tree air fresheners hanging here and there. I even haggled the price down – the salesman HAD to talk to me then.

Now, what about the trade-in on my Fusion?

My beautiful, beloved Ford Fusion.

Now, I knew it wasn’t going to be worth a lot. It was no-frills, and it was a manual transmission (which, it seemed, nobody but me was really interested in). It had also sustained some pretty rough hail damage from a massive storm a few years back.

What I didn’t except was to be met with a contemptuous sneer and told that they were being generous by offering me $1000 for it, since they would be more or less scrapping it.

OH MY GOD NO YOU WILL NOT SCRAP MY CAR.

I was still going to take the Escape home, but it turns out I was just going to take my Fusion back with me. (The Fusion ultimately ended up going to my dad and is now living happily as a well-loved farm car, but that's a different story.)

We did one last inspection on the Escape, were re-reassured it had just gone through a full check-up and interior detailing, scoured the Car Fax one more time, and then signed the papers. I felt as though I had done my due diligence. I totally hated everyone at Motor Inn, but I had done my best and had come away with a decent car.

Minutes after leaving the lot in my new-to-me car, the check engine light came on.

I called James, who was in the Fusion. He called Motor Inn. They said, “Tough shit. You signed the papers.”

This is decidedly NOT COOL.

If the check engine light comes on less than twenty minutes after I drive the car off the lot, it sure seems like that is something the car dealer should take care of.

The hour-plus drive home uncovered oddities. The pine tree scent was overwhelming, even though I had initially only seen two in the car. I also found myself sticking to everything – the dashboard, the visor, EVERYTHING. Where had this shit been on the test drive?

Upon arriving home, James and I wiped down the car – it was like a can of Coke had exploded and been left to congeal. We threw away the two pine tree fresheners and left the windows open all night, but the smell was still overpowering the next day. We lifted up the floormats… and found pine trees hidden there. Pine tree air fresheners were secreted away in every nook and cranny of that car, but in such a way that a cursory once-over wouldn’t reveal their presence. All said and done, we found more than 30 air fresheners hidden in that car.

And then – we figured out why.

(No, there was not a dead body hidden in there, though I was convinced.)

When the air fresheners were gone, the entire car smelled like gasoline. James looked it up, and it’s a piece of plastic melting on the undercarriage and causing the smell. However, when we called Motor Inn – AGAIN – they claimed not to know a thing about the 30 air fresheners. This time, they did GENEROUSLY (imagine me rolling my eyes right here) offer to deep clean the car at a discount if we brought it in that day.

We were both working and therefore couldn’t bring the car.

Even if we could have brought the car in, the cleaning should have been free.

And they still refused to look at the check engine light.

The car turned out fine in the end. It’s 2021, and I’m still driving it. It’s caused me no major problems, except it still smells like gasoline once in a while.

I really, truly thought I did everything right. I negotiated the price down and was prepared to walk away if I didn’t get the price I wanted. I asked the right questions – what I couldn’t prepare for were straight up-lies. Here’s the glaring error:

If the used car salesman will only talk to your husband and NOT to you, get out of there right now.

And stay as far away from Motor Inn as humanly possible.

I was so upset that I scraped off the foam sticker that said "Motor Inn of Spirit Lake" on the back of the car. I'd rather have that weird foamy residue (that won't even budge with Goo-Gone) than advertise for that place.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.