Under the Hood

 

You can lift, squish, thump, smell or weigh it in the store, but until you get it home and cut it open, you can’t tell if it is ripe or rotten, but by that time, the store has your money and is halfway to Jamaica. 

 So don't be taken in by that new car smell.  It could still be a lemon, slapped together with alternative parts, pushed to market by some arbitrary schedule, and now to be pushed by you.  And don't be fooled, the car knew the entire time, even the built-in GPS is snickering at you, having already programed the route from hope to despair.  Kicking the tires will tell you more about your shoes than anything else.

Not that far back in your memory is the fluorescent lit dealership, with its burnt coffee and salesmen smelling faintly of Armor All, smiling for no other reason than seeing you grinning at the amazing paint job gleaming there on the showroom floor. 

You've spotted the lure and now you're hooked.  They need but reel you in.  "I'll tell you what, I'll throw in the undercoating at no charge." 

"Is that Armor All I'm smelling?"