5

Going to a Used-Car Dealership

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So you go to the used-car dealership. Again, you do some research, and you try to employ the skills you've learned there, but you never stood a chance. It was all over the minute the manager set his eyes on you, grinned a grinny grin, and said, "Let's let the new kid take this one." Remember who you're dealing with here. These are people who play mind-chess against good-natured suckers for a living, and you're someone who apologizes to grocery store cashiers when your diet isn't properly balanced. These are people who can imbue their conversation voice with a high-frequency sequence of clicks that Morse-codes your credit card into signing up for the extended warranty; you're the kind of person who screws up your taxes because you can't remember if you're supposed to count yourself as a dependent. These are people who could sell a ketchup Popsicle to a woman in white gloves; you're a man who recognizes that as a reference to Tommy Boy. The game is over before you even realize it's afoot, you fucking half-stack.

"Here, have some coffee," the salesman tells you, and as your hands wrap around the smooth, warm cup, you feel your willpower diminish, your steely resolve melt into warm generosity, because of science that they understand and you don't.

4

Going to a New-Car Dealership

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Ha! Whoa there, Elon Musk. Maybe check your bank account before you wander through those revolving doors.

Yes, your limited funds do devalue you as a person, which leads right to ...

3

Fantasizing About Every Car You See

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If it seems like this task has made you a bit unhinged, then yeah, it totally fucking has. There's a DeLorean that you see every day on your way to work. The raw, volatile glory that comes from seeing Marty McFly's time machine every day, before you've even properly digested your Grape-Nuts, is unmaking your grasp of reality. Eventually you're going to work up the courage to touch it. But this is not that day, dear readers. This is not that day.

2

Hurrying

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Car dealers want you to be in a rush, because people who don't have any time to waste are people who are going to make bad decisions. But no one has ever bought a car without being in a rush.

Thanks partly to the economy and partly to the fact that those gosh darn kids don't appreciate the beauty of a classic American muscle car anymore, people are relying more and more on public transportation. But at the same time, public transportation is being gutted, also because of the economy. When your bus route to work gets cut, you need a car fast -- which means that Big Used Car (a part of the economy I may very well have made up, but if it exists, it creates a great villain for me to use right here) has you right where they want you. Which is on their lot, looking at one of their cars.

Sure, there are strategies. I've heard stories of people using dark magic to call the dealership ahead of time to negotiate, or researching MSRPs, but you know what to do with people who practice dark magic: ask them to sell you drugs, and when their back is turned, douse them in holy water. Ha! Besides, when you've been darting through traffic on your bike dodging one Prius only to almost get hit by yet another Prius, the idea of any extra work getting between you and those sweet ignition keys that will bring that massive (in your imagination) engine roaring to life is like being stuck in a nightmarish second gear you can't shift out of.

If you think I'm being melodramatic, let me ask you this: Have you ever driven an automatic before? Well, there's your problem: Science says driving a car with automatic transmission numbs the human brain's ability to perceive suffering. You're no longer capable of thinking for yourself, and that's a tragedy, but it's not my tragedy, so you can deal with that on your own time. I've got a column to write.

1

On Second Thought, It's OK to Own a Bike

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This is the Tragedy of the Automobile: You don't need to be very smart to fall in love with a badass car, but you do need to know a shitload of things in order to take care of one. And you will never know those things, because you aren't really you, you're me, and we're both idiots. But at least we know that buying a car is like playing World of Warcraft. You start out weak, but the more you "grind demons" (or "shop around"), the more you "up level" until you gain "higher abilities" and oh, God, you're even worse at talking about WoW than cars.

But that's OK. It really is. Because you own a bike. And though it only has two wheels, and though it doesn't purr quite the same as an internal combustion engine, and though the seats aren't made from that same soothing leather, and though there's no clutch to gently send vibrations up your leg and stimulate your prostate, and though you'll never be a proper man, at least ...

... I dunno. Something, probably.

JF Sargent is an editor and columnist at Cracked, and a Prius nicked his elbow on the way to work today. No really, that happened, and he's lucky to be alive. Follow him on Twitter, Tumblr, or Facebook.