Sunday, May 26th, 2002
Sitting in my driveway right now is a 2002 Ford Explorer Sport Trac. We haven’t pulled the trigger on it, but I’ll probably buy it this afternoon, when we go back to the nice dealer. I say “nice” dealer, because our experience at Toyota was less than satisfying.
We had the typical problems that come with going to one of those Car Planets: The salesman didn’t know anything about the inventory, or more specifically, the product; they are always looking around for people shopping with big wads of money in their fists, as opposed to just shopping; and, they just don’t seem very honest.
Point-in case: the nice Tacoma I was looking at said “ABS” on the sticker; it wasn’t until I had them print off a dealer invoice that it turned out it didn’t. Never mind they were asking more for the (slightly) used model than I would have gotten negotiating for a new one (at 2 percent over invoice, the most I would ever pay anyone for a new vehicle). I could go on, but what’s the point?
While driving the Tacoma around, we stopped at the Friendly Ford dealer “just to look” at the competition (I had already settled on a Toyota at that point). I was surprised to find that I preferred the Ford to the Toyota. I felt more like G.I. Joe in the Sport Trac than the Tacoma, which counts for something more than those silly intangibles like “resale value” or “reliability.” Honestly, whoever goes around romping on the gas saying, “Hear that growl? It’s reeeesale value, baby!”
The Ford has more horsepower, more torque, and weighs 700 pounds more. ‘Nuff said. I am a Ford Man now and have better things to do than argue with you over your tiny little Japanese, um, wheelbase. Go away or I shall be commencing a rollover on ya at highway speed.